nemy, Waldo opening fire with a revolver, at close range,
each shot causing the lion to yell and snarl most ferociously.

A cat-like recovery, then the fatal leap might have followed, for the
confused professor was rising to his feet again, fairly in front of the
enraged brute; but ere worse came, Waldo and Bruno were to the rescue,
one firing as rapidly as possible, his brother driving a keen-bladed
knife to the very hilt just back of that quivering forearm.

One mad wrestle, in which both lads were overthrown, then the gaunt
and muscular brute stretched its length in a shivering throe, dead even
while it strove to slay.

Just as the professor hurried to the front, beseeching his boys to
keep out of peril if they loved him; at which Waldo laughed outright,
although never had he felt a warmer love for the same odd-speaking,
queer-acting personage than right at that moment.

"I'm all right; how's it with you, sir? And--Bruno?"

"Without a scratch to remember it by," promptly asserted the elder
brother, likewise regaining his feet and taking hasty account of stock.
"No fault of his, though!" giving that carcass a kick as he spoke. "My
gracious! I caught just one glimpse of them, and I was ready to make
affidavit that each fang would measure a foot, while his claws--"

"Would pass through an elephant and clinch on the other side," declared
Waldo, stooping far enough to lift one of those armed paws. "But, I say,
Bruno, how awfully they have shrunk, since then!"

Whether so intended or not, this characteristic break caused a mutual
laugh, and, as there was neither sound nor sign of further danger
from like source, one and all satisfied their curiosity by minutely
inspecting the huge brute, stirring up the fire for that purpose.

"An ugly customer, indeed, if we had given him anything like a fair
show," gravely uttered the professor. "Only for your prompt assistance,
my dear boys, what would have become of poor me?"

"We acted on our own account, as well, please remember, uncle. And even
so, after all you have done for us since--"

"What was it you shot at, uncle Phaeton?" interrupted Waldo, who was
constitutionally averse to aught which savoured of sentiment. "Another
one of these--little squirrels, was it?"

Snatching up a blazing brand, the lad moved off in that direction,
whirling the torch around his head until it burst into clear flame, then
lowering it closer to a bloody heap of fur and powerful limbs, to gi