"Might be, lad, an' silver, too. But there might not be enough to make it pay to git it out."
"I see the mountain lion!" cried Roger, a minute later. "There he is, in yonder corner, in his den. And look, it's his mate!"
All gazed and not far distant beheld a scene that touched their hearts. On the rocks lay the dead lion and over him stood his mate, licking his face with her rough tongue.
"Look out!" cried Abe Blower, and drew his horse-pistol—a companion weapon to that carried by Tom Dillon. "She'll come fer us, sure!"
The old miner was right. Swiftly the lioness turned, and set up a savage roar that echoed and reëchoed throughout the cavern. Then, in spite of the torches—for all savage beasts are afraid of fire—she prepared to fight those she felt had slain the one she loved.
It was Abe Blower who fired first, and scarcely had the sound of the shot died away when Roger and Dave pulled trigger. Over and over whirled the lioness, and then of a sudden struck one of the wide cracks in the flooring of the cave and disappeared from view. They heard the body strike on some rocks far below; and then all became silent.
"Oh, wasn't that awful!" gasped Roger, and felt of his forehead, where the cold perspiration had gathered.
