The limb was as thick as his arm, and over thirty feet long. It ran clear across the ravine, and a discovery of this fact gave Jack an idea.
He planned to go out to the far end of the limb, swing from its extremity and drop to the ground, landing on the ether bank of the cut.
The ocelot could not get hold or balance to venture as far out on the limb as the lad dared to go. Jack calculated that the time it lost in getting down to the ground again, would enable him to meantime put a considerable distance between himself and the enemy.
The lad sat astride the dead tree branch and began to walk himself outward from the main trunk of the tree.
The ocelot reached the crotch, surveyed Jack with a savage growl, and carefully planting its feet, started out after him.
Its progress was slow. Jack hitched himself along more rapidly. The branch began to creak. Our hero doubted if it would sustain their double weight. However, he trusted to the wary instinct of the ocelot, which kept coming right forward. Jack was about eight feet from the end of the branch when it gave a very ominous crack. In fact, he saw the white splinters show where it joined the tree.
He swung both feet to one side of the limb, held on only by his fingers, and planned to get to its end hand over hand.
Snap! Jack hurried progress, but it was no use. He saw the ocelot crouch and hug the limb. It gave way at its base. Jack let go. He landed directly on the smooth, sandy bottom of that portion of the ravine.
He struck the ground upright, squarely with both feet. Glancing quickly at the tree, he saw that the branch had whipped right down against the trunk.
The limb had not entirely broken loose, but swayed from several sustaining wood filaments. The ocelot, still hugging the limb, was clawing frantically at the main trunk of the tree to get a new hold there to keep from a tumble.