e hardy Pony Rider boy. At such times the lithe, active form of Tad
Butler could be seen leaping from the cloud of dust while the beast
followed with savage lunges to the end of its rope. It seemed
impossible to tire out either boy or cat.

It was this condition of affairs that Stacy Brown came upon on his
return. He stood gazing at the scene, fascinated.

"Look out, Tad! He'll get you!" shouted the boy.

"Get in here and give him a poke in the ribs," cried Butler.

"Not for a million dollars, badly as I need money," returned the fat
boy. "What do you take me for, an animal trainer?"

"Then I'll have to keep on doing it till Mr. Nance gets here to help
me. This is the greatest thing we've ever done, old boy!"

"Yes, it'll be a great thing when the brute hands you one from those
garden rakes of his. Get away and I'll shoot him," directed Stacy,
swinging his rifle into position.

"Put that gun down!" thundered Tad. "You'll be winging me next thing
you do. Put it down, I say!"

Stacy grumblingly obeyed. Meanwhile the gymnastic exercise continued
with unabated vigor. There was not an instant's pause. The mountain
lion was busier perhaps than it ever had been in its life. It was
battling for its life, too, and it knew it.

Once Tad was raked from head to foot by a vicious claw, but the Pony
Rider boy merely laughed. His endurance, too, was most remark able.
Stacy would hardly get within gun-shot of the beast, always standing
near a tree convenient for climbing. Tad was not saying much now. He
was rather too busy for conversation. At last the report of a rifle
was heard not far away.

"Answer them. It's the gang," called Tad. Chunky fired a shot into
the air, following it with four others. It was only a short time
before Jim Nance with Professor Zepplin and the two other boys came
dashing up, shouting to know where Tad and Chunky were. They saw
Chunky first, on guard with his rifle as if holding off an enemy.

"What's the trouble?" cried Nance.

"We've got him! We've got him!" yelled Stacy.

About that time Nance discovered the swirling cloud of dust, from which
at intervals emerged a yellow ball. The guide caught the significance
of the scene at a single glance.

"It's a cat," howled Ned. "Let me shoot him."

"Put away your guns. I guess we know how to catch lions in a scientific
manner," declared Stacy.

"They've roped the cat," snapped the guide. "Beats anything I ever
heard of