“It’s a lizard—a big lizard!” answered Tom.
“It’s what they call an iguana—a huge lizard,” Cliff said. They approached the long reptile, which was about three feet from nose to tail.
“I think I startled it—maybe I hit it,” Tom gasped. “Anyhow, the fall has stunned it, I think.” He made sure by using the butt of the rifle as a club and striking the backbone just back of the skull: the lizard quivered, flailed its tail several times and then relaxed.
“Anyhow, it wasn’t a jaguar, I’m thankful to say!” Cliff commented.
“It’s much better than a jaguar, for these lizards are good to eat,” Tom responded. “Goodness knows we could all eat. How about cutting out some of the meat and roasting it on sticks?”
They did so, and as soon as they had cut away what seemed to be the most promising parts of the flesh, Tom had another idea.
“Just take what we can eat,” he suggested. “Then we’d better drag the rest out to the far edge of the glade and leave it. If any meat-eating animals are around we’d rather have them get it and go away than to invite them to risk a rush to grab it close to our fire—they might grab us on the way!”
Accordingly they took the carcass as far away as they dared, Cliff, now recovered from his attack of fear, watching with the rifle ready.
No beast approached while they worked, but they had hardly returned to put their choicer meat on spits made of twigs to roast it before the fierce blaze of their fire when they heard the unmistakable, blood-chilling wail of a jungle cat, not far away. From here, and then from there, first to the right, then to the left, but ever closer, the intermittent wail continued. Then, in the dull glow from their fire they saw fiery eyes at the edge of the glade. There was a rush, a swift retreat—and the remains of the iguana had disappeared.
“Did you see it?” Nicky gasped.