"
I had backed up the slope. Emett faced the lion, noose ready, waiting
for a favorable chance to rope a front paw. The lion crouched low and
tense, only his long tail lashing back and forth across my lasso.
Emett threw the loop in front of the spread paws, now half sunk into
the dust.
"Ease up; ease up," said he. "I'll tease him to jump into the noose."
I let my rope sag. Emett poked a stick into the lion's face. All at
once I saw the slack in the lasso which was tied to the lion's chain.
Before I could yell to warn my comrade the beast leaped. My rope
burned as it tore through my hands. The lion sailed into the air, his
paws wide-spread like wings, and one of them struck Emett on the head
and rolled him on the slope. I jerked back on my rope only to find it
had slipped its hold.
"He slugged me one," remarked Emett, calmly rising and picking up his
hat. "Did he break the skin?"
"No, but he tore your hat band off," I replied. "Let's keep at him."
For a few moments or an hour--no one will ever know how long--we ran
round him, raising the dust, scattering the stones, breaking the
branches, dodging his onslaughts. He leaped at us to the full length
of his tether, sailing right into our faces, a fierce, uncowed,
tigerish beast. If it had not been for the collar and swivel he would
have choked himself a hundred times.
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