It was a master stroke. Bent as it was by its double load, the branch snapped clean off and instantly the boy shot downward through space.
One breath-taking instant, then bump! He landed with a thud that made his teeth rattle, then pitched head foremost into the brush.
Hardly had he had time to realize that he was still conscious and probably unharmed, when there came, not four feet from him, a terrible thud.
Once more his mind was in a whirl. What had happened? Had the tiger, angered at loss of his prey, risked a thirty-foot leap to the ground? It seemed incredible, yet there he was.
For the answer to his problem regarding the jaguar who had dropped in the bush beside him, Pant did not have long to wait. For ten seconds, as if stunned, the great cat remained where he was, then with a sudden rush he dashed wildly away.
The boy laughed a low laugh.
“Pity it didn’t kill him,” he murmured.
He had guessed what had happened. Suddenly released, the limb on which he had been seated had shot upward and, striking the jaguar, had perhaps stunned him. At least it had unseated him and he had fallen.
“Well,” Pant grinned, “here is plenty of hay to last poor old Rip for three days. I came down rather sooner than I expected and in a manner quite unusual. Wouldn’t care to try it again, but it did work that time.”
Searching out his machete, he hacked the grass from the limb, tied it in three bundles, then began making his way back to his boat with one of them.