“I don’t want to kill anybody,” he reasoned.  And he thought of a story he had once read of a hunter shooting his companion who had got the nightmare and was crawling around in his sleep.  For all he knew, it might be Sam or Tom, or one of the others.

But now came a sound which was not to be mistaken.  It was a low, savage growl, followed by the rustling of a bushy tail among the brushwood.  It was a wild animal, and it was getting ready to make a leap for the boy!

Taking aim as best he could, Dick pulled the trigger.  Bang! went the firearm, and a snarl of pain and rage rang out.  Then the beast made its leap, striking Dick in the breast and knocking him over.

“Hullo! what’s the row?” The cry came from old Jerry, who had been sleeping next to Dick.  “Who fired that shot?”

“Help!” answered Dick.  “A wild beast has attacked me.”

“A wild beast!” came from several throats at once.

“Let me get a shot,” came from Tom, as he bounced out of the house, pistol in hand, followed by Sam and Captain Blossom.

By this time Dick had gotten to his knees and was trying to fight off the animal which had fastened its teeth in the youth’s trouser leg, for the boys slept with part of their garments on them.

“Shoot him!  Hit him over the head with a club!” screamed the eldest Rover.  He expected every moment to have the beast fly at his throat, and he knew that that would be his death.

Old Jerry turned back to get a pistol or a club.  As he did this Tom rushed past him and up to Dick’s side.  Taking a hasty aim, Tom discharged the pistol twice.

Another growl rang out and the beast dropped back, shot through the foreshoulder and the neck.  Then Tom let drive once more and the beast fell forward, shot through the left front leg.

“Good for you, Tom!” cried Dick, as he arose.

“What is it?” came from Captain Blossom, as he appeared with a shotgun.  A shot from this finished the beast and it rolled over and over in its death agonies, and Sam finished it with a blow on the head with a big club.

By this time the girls were crowding outside, having clothed themselves with whatever was handiest.  Torches were lit, and a ship’s lantern, and all went to examine the creature.

“It looks like a tiger,” declared Tom.  “Only it is not quite so large.”

“I should say it was a California puma,” came from old Jerry.  “He’s a bad one, too.”

“I think they call them jaguars out here,” said Dick.  “They all belong to the same family, you know.  Some old American hunters would call it a painter.”

“Never mind what it is,” said Dora, with a shudder.  “I am thankful that it is dead.”

“You can be thankful that it didn’t chew Dick up,” added Tom.  “He was in a tight corner, I can tell you that.”

“I didn’t want to shoot until I was certain of what I was shooting at,” answered Dick.  “Then, just as I fired, the beast leaped for me.  If I hadn’t wounded it, it would have had me by the throat sure.  But my shot kind of made it fall back, and it caught me by the trouser leg.”