missed the beast's head and buried itself in the shoulder. As Dave fired he leaped to one side.
It was well that our hero made that move, otherwise the mountain lion must have come down directly on top of him. As it was the beast fell at his side, snarling and snapping fiercely, and turning in an effort to ascertain what that thing was which was burning him in the shoulder.
Crack! the pistol sounded out again, and this time the mountain lion was hit in the neck. Over and over he rolled, but got quickly to his feet, and, wounded as he was, prepared for another spring at our hero.
Again Dave fired, but this time his aim was not so true, and the bullet, grazing the lion's tail, struck a rock with a sharp click. Then the savage creature hurled himself straight for Dave's breast
Bang! bang! It was the double report from a huge, old-fashioned horse-pistol that Tom Dillon carried. The old miner had come clattering to the spot on horseback and with a single glance had taken in the situation. The leap of the mountain lion was stayed, and with a final snarl the beast rolled over and over, disappearing of a sudden into the opening of the cave Dave had discovered.
"Are you hurt, lad?" asked the old miner, after he had waited anxiously for several seconds for the mountain lion to reappear.
"Not in the—the least," was our hero's panting
