About eight feet over his head the youth made out an exposed root of the tree. It ran out of the solid dirt a few inches, looped, and was again solidly imbedded.
If he could reach this, he could grasp higher pieces of roots that showed plainly, and easily draw himself to terra firma.
Our hero went back to the extreme end of the cave. The young cubs set up outcries of affright as he passed near them, but he paid no attention to them.
He braced for a run and a jump to reach the piece of root that was the bottom rung of a natural ladder to liberty.
Poised on one foot, Jack stood motionless in some dismay. The entrance to the cave was suddenly darkened. A great heavy body dropped through. The mother ocelot landed on four feet on the cave floor with a terrific growl.
She ran first to her crying cubs, nosed them affectionately, and then turned with low, ominous growlings.
Jack saw the beast’s eyes fix themselves upon him. They glowed with fire and fury. Its collar ruffled and its white teeth showed.
Jack had not so much as a stick to defend himself with. He had loaned his hunting knife to a friend when they first started and his pistol had been dropped in the woods.
In his pocket was a small pocket knife. He was groping for this when the ocelot, that had for a minute or two stood perfectly motionless, made a forward movement.
It was not a spring or a glide, but a rush. Jack knew why they called this species the Honey Eater. Its paws were enormous and armed with long curved sharp pointed claws.