Some rascals are stealing——&rdquo international development research centre ; began Ralph, when one of the mounted Bloods slipped swiftly from his pony and, before the boy could utter an other syllable, grasped him by the throat. Ralph was a powerful boy, but in the hands of the wiry, muscular Blood he was no more than an infant The man drew an ugly looking knife.
You keep quiet, eh? Me plentee stickee you, you make any more chac-chac (talk).”
Whether the Indian would really have carried out his threat or not Ralph had no means of guessing, but he deemed it most prudent under[213] the circumstances to obey. The Indian smelled most abominably of liquor, and was evidently in no docile mood. A sort of reckless deviltry danced in his eyes that warned Ralph not to cross him.
But the next instant, to his unspeakable relief, he heard Jim’s voice again.
I’m trying to climb up the rock USRN . I’ll be there in a jiffy. Confound it, but it’s slippery!”
Of course Ralph could not reply, but the words cheered him. If Jim would only appear with his rifle maybe he could scare the Bloods off. In an agony of impatience he waited. Luckily the rain had wetted the knots so that they were hard to untie and the Blood leader was having a lot of trouble with them.
Suddenly Ralph heard a sharp cry from the Indian that still remained on horseback. The one that was bending over the knots heard the exclamation and glanced up, as did the one that[214] was threatening Ralph. The boy, too, looked around and soon saw what had alarmed them.
Creeping into the clearing were two immense, tawny forms. The female cougar had returned with her mate!
The Indians gave a series of sharp cries, and the one that held Ralph released his hold and ran for his pony. So did the one that had been bent on stealing the white men’s mounts.
Lashing the ground with their tails the lions began to give utterance to a sort of whining snarl.
This was answered from within the cave by a chorus of mewings and squeals from the cubs. The sound of her young appeared to drive the lioness to fury. She leaped full at the nearest Indian, and landed on the haunches of his terrified pony.
One of the others snatched a rifle from his saddle and fired at the animal, but before he could aim properly the male cougar had attacked him, and the bullet went wild. Evidently the[215] lions thought the Indians were responsible for keeping them from their cubs.
The rifle was an old , single-barrelled one, and having fired the one shot the Indian had no chance to reload. But as the bullet sang by her, the lioness had relaxed her hold on the terrified pony’s haunches and slipped to the ground to face this new antagonist. Ralph gazed on with fascinated horror. The scene was unreal, fantastic almost. The three Indians, an instant before bent on thievery, were now fighting for their lives against two creatures urged to fury by the most powerful motive known to the animal kingdom—the love of their young.