ushes waved; something
rose and fell in their midst like a flail. There was a voice other than
that of the raucous tones of the lion, and which squalled almost as
loudly!

A little to one side of the shrubs stood a quivering grey pony, its ears
pointed toward the rumpus in the shrubs, blowing and snorting. The rider
of that empty saddle was plainly in trouble with the snarling lion.

The cattlemen of the Panhandle looked upon the lion as they did upon the
coyote--save that the former did more damage to the herds. Roping the
lion, or shooting it with the pistol, was a general sport. But caught in
a corner, the beast--unlike the coyote--would fight desperately. Whoever
had attacked this one had taken on a larger contract than he could
handle. That was plain.

Urged by the girl the pinto went down the slope of the hollow on a keen
run. At the bottom she snorted and swerved from the mesquite clump. The
smell of the lion was strong in Molly's nostrils.

"Stand still, Molly!" commanded the girl, and was out of the saddle with
an ease that seemed phenomenal. She ran straight toward the thrashing
bushes, pistol in hand.

The lion leaped, and the person who had been beating it off with the
shotgun was borne down under the attack. Once those sabre-sharp claws
got to work, the victim of the lion's charge would be viciously torn.

The girl saw the gun fly out of his hands. The lion was too close upon
its prey for her to use the pistol. She slipped the weapon back into its
holster and picked up the shotgun. Plunging through the bushes she swung
the gun and knocked the beast aside from its prey. The blow showed the
power in her young arms and shoulders. The lion rolled over and over,
half stunned.

"Quick!" she advised the victim of the lion's attack. "He'll be back at
us."

Indeed, scarcely had she spoken when the brute scrambled to its feet.
The girl shouldered the gun and pulled the other trigger as the beast
leaped.

There was no report. Either there was no shell in that barrel, or
something had fouled the trigger. The lion, all four paws spread, and
each claw displayed, sailed through the air like a bat, or a flying
squirrel. Its jaws were wide open, its teeth bared, and the screech it
emitted was, in truth, a terrifying sound.

The girl realized that the original victim of the lion's attack was
scrambling to his feet. She dropped to her knee and kept the muzzle of
the gun pointed directly for the beast's breast. Th