Stacy acted like a man in a trance.  Without any clear idea as to what he was doing, he rose slowly to his feet.  At that instant the lion discovered him.  It crouched down, its eyes like sparks of fire, scintillating and snapping.

All at once Stacy threw his gun to his shoulder and pulled the trigger.  At least he thought he did.  But no report came.

A yellow flash, a swish and the beast had leaped clear of the rise and disappeared even more suddenly than he had come.

“Wha---wha-----” gasped Chunky.   Then he made a discovery.

Chunky was holding the rifle by the barrel with the muzzle against his shoulder, having aimed the butt at the crouching lion.  Chunky had had a severe attack of “buck fever.”

With a wild yell that woke the echoes and sent Jim Nance and Professor Zepplin tearing through the bushes, Stacy dashed down the steep slope, forgetting to take his rifle with him in his hurried descent.

He met the two men running toward him.

“What is it?  What’s happened?” shouted the Professor.

“I saw him!  I saw him!” yelled Stacy, almost frantic with excitement.

Nance grabbed the boy by the shoulder, shaking him roughly.

“Speak up.  What did you see?”

“I su—–­su—–­saw a lu—–­lu—–­lion, I di—–­did.”

“Where?” demanded Nance.

“Up there.”

Chunky’s eyes were full of excitement.

“Why didn’t you shoot him?”

“I—–­I tried to, but the gu—–­gun wouldn’t go off.  I—–­I had it wrong end to.”

Dad relaxed his grip on the fat boy’s arm and sat down heavily.

“Of all the tarnal idiots—–­of all!  Professor, if we don’t tie that boy to a tree he’ll be killing us all with his fool ways.  Why, you baby, you ain’t fit to carry a pop-gun.  By the way, where is your gun?”

“I—–­I guess, I lost it up—–­up there,” stammered Stacy.

Dad started for the top of the rise in long strides, Chunky gazing after him in a dazed sort of way.

“I—–­I guess I did make a fool of myself, didn’t I, Professor?” he mourned.

“I am inclined to think you did—–­several different varieties of them,” answered Professor Zepplin in a tone of disgust.

CHAPTER XV

THE MYSTERY OF THE RIFLE

“I can’t help it, I saw a lion, anyway,” muttered the fat boy.

“Come up here!” It was Dad’s voice calling to them.  “Where’s that rifle?”

“I—–­I dropped it, I told you.”

“Where did you drop it?”

“Right there.”

“Show me.”

Stacy climbed to the top of the rise and stepped confidently over to where he had let go the rifle before rushing down after having tried to shoot the lion.  He actually stooped over to pick up the gun, so confident was he as to its location.  Then a puzzled expression appeared on Stacy’s face.