Chapter Fifty Four.
A Prairie Palanquin.
The friendly arms, flung around Maurice Gerald, were those of Zeb Stump.
Guided by the instructions written upon the card, the hunter had made all haste towards the rendezvous there given.
He had arrived within sight, and fortunately within rifle-range of the spot, at that critical moment when the jaguar was preparing to spring.
His bullet did not prevent the fierce brute from making the bound—the last of its life—though it had passed right through the animal’s heart.
This was a thing thought of afterwards—there was no opportunity then.
On rushing into the water, to make sure that his shot had proved fatal, the hunter was himself attacked; not by the claws of the jaguar, but the hands of the man just rescued from them.
Fortunate for Zeb, that the mustanger’s knife had been left upon land. As it was, he came near being throttled; and only after throwing aside his rifle, and employing all his strength, was he able to protect himself against the unlooked-for assault.
A struggle ensued, which ended in Zeb flinging his colossal arms around the young Irishman, and bearing him bodily to the bank.