Finally it moved toward Barney. The Celt got behind a bowlder.
He held his rifle ready for use, and his shock of red hair stood literally on end.
“Be me sowl!” he muttered, “av the vilyun gets his clutches on me, shure it’s lost I am! I’m afther thinkin’ I’ll niver give him that chance.”
Captain Nicodemus, meanwhile, had been getting a line on the beast.
“Steady, Barney!” he cried. “I’ll give him a shot. If he turns for me you give him another!”
“All roight, sor!”
Nicodemus drew straight and careful aim. Then he pulled the trigger.
Crack!
Where the bullet struck the puma it was not easy to say. But the animal gave a quick snarling cry and wheeled about.
He raised himself a trifle from the ground. It was Barney’s chance.