The dust was flying.  At times it seemed as if the lion must have gotten the hardy Pony Rider boy.  At such times the lithe, active form of Tad Butler could be seen leaping from the cloud of dust while the beast followed with savage lunges to the end of its rope.  It seemed impossible to tire out either boy or cat.

It was this condition of affairs that Stacy Brown came upon on his return.  He stood gazing at the scene, fascinated.

“Look out, Tad!  He’ll get you!” shouted the boy.

“Get in here and give him a poke in the ribs,” cried Butler.

“Not for a million dollars, badly as I need money,” returned the fat boy.  “What do you take me for, an animal trainer?”

“Then I’ll have to keep on doing it till Mr. Nance gets here to help me.  This is the greatest thing we’ve ever done, old boy!”

“Yes, it’ll be a great thing when the brute hands you one from those garden rakes of his.  Get away and I’ll shoot him,” directed Stacy, swinging his rifle into position.

“Put that gun down!” thundered Tad.  “You’ll be winging me next thing you do.  Put it down, I say!”

Stacy grumblingly obeyed.  Meanwhile the gymnastic exercise continued with unabated vigor.  There was not an instant’s pause.  The mountain lion was busier perhaps than it ever had been in its life.  It was battling for its life, too, and it knew it.

Once Tad was raked from head to foot by a vicious claw, but the Pony Rider boy merely laughed.  His endurance, too, was most remark able.  Stacy would hardly get within gun-shot of the beast, always standing near a tree convenient for climbing.  Tad was not saying much now.  He was rather too busy for conversation.  At last the report of a rifle was heard not far away.

“Answer them.  It’s the gang,” called Tad.  Chunky fired a shot into the air, following it with four others.  It was only a short time before Jim Nance with Professor Zepplin and the two other boys came dashing up, shouting to know where Tad and Chunky were.  They saw Chunky first, on guard with his rifle as if holding off an enemy.

“What’s the trouble?” cried Nance.

“We’ve got him!  We’ve got him!” yelled Stacy.

About that time Nance discovered the swirling cloud of dust, from which at intervals emerged a yellow ball.  The guide caught the significance of the scene at a single glance.

“It’s a cat,” howled Ned.  “Let me shoot him.”

“Put away your guns.  I guess we know how to catch lions in a scientific manner,” declared Stacy.

“They’ve roped the cat,” snapped the guide.  “Beats anything I ever heard of.”  He was off his mustang instantly and running toward Tad.  “Keep him busy, keep him busy, boy.  I’ll fix him for you in a minute.”

“I don’t want you to kill him.”

“I’m not going to.  We’ve got to stretch him.”

Tad did not know what stretching meant in this particular instance, but he was soon to learn.  Nance got off to one side of the busy scene, then directed Tad to ease up a bit.  The boy did so.  He saw that Dad, too, was planning to use his lariat, though the boy had no idea in what way.  The cat instantly sat down and began tearing at its bonds.  All at once Nance’s rope shot through the air.  It caught the lion fairly around the neck.