Quick
as thought I jumped down, and just in time to prevent Emett from
attacking the lion with the heavy pole we had used.
"I'll kill him! I'll kill him!" roared Emett.
"No you won't," I replied, quietly, for my pain had served to soothe
my excitement as well as to make me more determined. "We'll tie up the
darned tiger, if he cuts us all to pieces. You know how Jones will
give us the laugh if we fail. Here, bind up my wrist."
Mention of Jones' probable ridicule and sight of my injury cooled
Emett.
"It's a nasty scratch," he said, binding my handkerchief round it.
"The leather saved your hand from being torn off. He's an ugly brute,
but you're right, we'll tie him. Now, let's each take a lasso and
worry him till we get hold of a paw. Then we can stretch him out."
Jones did a fiendish thing when he tied that lion to the swinging
branch. It was almost worse than having him entirely free. He had a
circle almost twenty feet in diameter in which he could run and leap
at will. It seemed he was in the air all the time. First at Emett,
than at me he sprang, mouth agape, eyes wild, claws spread. We whipped
him with our nooses, but not one would hold. He always tore it off
before we could draw it tight. I secured a precarious hold on one hind
paw and straightened my lasso.
"That's far enough," cried Emett. "Now hold him tight; don't lift him
off the ground.
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