Panther Eye Part 5

"Got it."

"Shoot at the first flash of light. That'll fix 'em. They're cowards. All natives are." Pant jerked out the sentences as he crawled rapidly.

They were none too soon. In another moment a match flared. Seemingly in the same instant, so quick was Johnny's movement, a blinding flash leaped from the floor and a deafening roar tore the tomb-like silence.

Johnny had fired at the ceiling, but this was quite enough. The light flared out. There was no more lighting of matches.

Creeping stealthily forward, avoiding the overturning of the smallest stone or bit of shale which might betray their position, they soon neared the entrance.

"Gotta make a run for it," breathed Pant. "Automatic ready?"

"Ready."

"Give 'em three rounds, then beat it. Make a dash to the right the instant you're outside. Ready?"

Johnny felt the hand on his arm tremble for an instant, then grip hard.

When the great, white bear and her cub came upon the scene on that snow-domed hill where Jarvis and Dave cowered before the tiger, the point of interest for the tiger was at once shifted to the fat and rollicking cub. Here was a juicy feast. And to the great cat, inexperienced as he must have been in the ways of the creatures of the very far north into which he had wandered, the c.u.mbersome mother seemed a rather insignificant barrier to keep him from his feast. One spring, a set of those vicious yellow teeth, a dash away, with the ponderous mother following at a snail's pace--that seemed easy. He carefully estimated the short distance between them.

But if these were the sensations that registered themselves on the brain cells of this tawny creature, he had reckoned wrong.

He had made just two springs when the mother bear right about faced and, nosing her cub to a position behind her, stood at bay.

Seeing this, the tiger paused. Lashing his tail and crouching for a spring, he uttered a low growl of defiance.

The bear's answer to this was a strange sound like the hissing of a goose.

She held her ground.

Then, seeing that the cat did not spring again, she wheeled about and began pushing the cub slowly before her.

"Will 'e get 'im?" whispered Jarvis.

"Don't know," answered Dave. "If I had a rifle, he wouldn't. Whew! What a robe that yellow pelt would make! Just prime, too!"

Lashing his tail more furiously than before, the tiger sprang. Now he was within thirty feet of the bear, now twenty, now ten. It seemed that the next spring would bring him to his goal.

But here he paused. The mother was between him and his dinner. He circled.

The bear circled clumsily. The cub was always behind her. The tiger stood still. The bear moved slowly backward, still pushing her cub. Again the tiger sprang. This time he was but eight feet distant. He growled. The bear hissed. The crisis had come.

With a sudden whirl to one side, the cat sprang with claws drawn and paws extended. It was clear that he had hoped to outflank the bear. In this he failed. A great forepaw of the bear swung over the tiger's head, making the air sing.

She nipped at the yellow fur with her ivory teeth. Here, too, she was too late; the tiger had leaped away.

The tiger turned. There were flecks of white at the corners of his mouth.

His tail whipped furiously. With a wild snarl, he threw himself at the mother bear's throat. It was a desperate chance, but for a second it seemed that those terrible fangs would find their place; and, once they were set there, once the knife-like claws tore at the vitals of the bear, all would be over. Then he would have a feast of good young bear.

At the very instant when all this seemed accomplished, when Jarvis breathed hoa.r.s.ely, "Ah!" and Dave panted, "Oh!", there came a sound as of a five-hundred-pound pile-driver descending upon a bale of hay.

Like a giant plaything seized by a cyclone, the tiger whirled to the right twelve feet away, then rolled limply over and over.

"Ee! She packs a wallop!" breathed Jarvis.

"Is he dead?" said Dave.

The bear moved close to the limp form of her enemy and sniffed the air.

"Looks like she got 'im," grinned Jarvis, straightening his cramped limbs.

For the first time the mother bear seemed to realize their presence, and, apparently scenting more danger, she began again pushing her cub before her, disappearing at last over the next low hill.

"Bully for 'er!" exclaimed Jarvis.

For some time they sat there on the crusted snow unable to believe that the tiger was dead, and unwilling to trust themselves too close to his keen claws and murderous fangs. Finally, Dave rose stiffly.

"Let's have a look," he muttered.

"Sure 'e's done for?"

As they bent over the stiffening form of the great yellow cat, Jarvis gave the head a turn.

"Broke!" he muttered; "'is neck is broke short off! I say she packed a wallop!"

"And the skin's ours!" exclaimed Dave joyously. "What a beauty! We'll skin him before he freezes."

Suiting his action to his words, he began the task. He had worked in silence for some time when he suddenly stood up with a start.

"What's that?" he exclaimed.

"What's what?"

"My knife struck metal--a chain about his neck!"

"Somebody's pet!" exclaimed Jarvis, "and a bloomin' fine one!" He bent over to examine the chain.

"But whose?" asked Dave.

"'Ere's the tag. Take a look."

"Looks oriental. Some numbers and letters. I can't read them."

"Sure," grinned Jarvis. "Ain't I been tellin' y'? It's the b.l.o.o.d.y bloomin'

'eathen from the islands down the sea-coast. They're 'angin' about 'ere.

They'll be lettin' out a 'ole menagerie against us some fine day--elephants, lions, mebby a hyena or two, and who knows what?"

He stood and stared at Dave; Dave stared back at him.