“Well, why haven’t you?”

“I dassent.”

While carrying on this conversation with his chum, Tad was watching the cat narrowly.  The animal was showing signs of greater excitement now.  The boy decided that the beast was preparing to jump one way or another—–­which way was a matter of some concern to both boys at that particular instant.

The cat took two long paces in Stacy’s direction.  Stacy emitted the most blood-curdling yell Tad had ever heard.  It served Butler’s very purpose.  The beast halted with one hind foot poised in the air, glaring at Stacy, who was howling more lustily than ever.

Swish!

Tad’s lariat shot through the air.  His aim was true, his hand steady and cool.

CHAPTER XVII

THE WHIRLWIND BALL OF YELLOW

When the startled cat felt the touch of the raw-hide rope against its leg it made a tremendous leap straight ahead.

“Too late!” clicked Tad.  “That loop is taut on you now!”

“M-m-murder!  Look out!” bellowed Stacy.

For the cat’s leap had carried it straight at the fat boy.  In fact one sharp set of claws raked the lad from shoulder to waist, though without more than breaking the skin.

That blow settled Stacy.

“I’m dead—–­ripped to pieces!” he yelled.

Without waiting to jump from the tree, Stacy simply fell.  Over and over on the ground he rolled until he was a dozen yards away from the tree.

“If you’re dead,” Tad grinned, “get up and come over here, and tell me about it.”

Stacy slowly rose to his feet.  He was badly shaken, covered with dirt and with some blood showing through the rents in his clothes.

“Nothing but my presence of mind and my speed saved me, anyway,” Chunky grumbled ruefully.

All in a twinkling that whirling yellow ball shot out of the tree, striking the ground before Tad Butler could draw the rope taut.  However, the rope still hung over a limb.  How the dirt flew!  Tad realized that swift action must come ere the beast should make a leap at them.

Stacy started away, but Butler’s sharp tone halted him.

“Chunky!” Tad panted.

“What?”

“Get hold of this rope with me.  Shake yourself.  What ails you?  Have you got a streak of yellow in you?”

“I can thrash the fellow who says I have?” roared the fat boy, springing to his feet.

“That’s the way to talk.  Come, hurry—–­get hold here!  He’s too much for me and he’s going to get away from me if you don’t lend a hand.”

“Wh-what do you want me to do?”

“Grab hold of this rope, I tell you.”

Chunky did so, but keeping a wary eye on the rolling, tumbling, spitting yellow ball, which was a full grown mountain lion, and an ugly brute.  The king of the canyons, however, was in a most humiliating position for a king of any sort.  He had been roped by his left hind foot, the other end of the rope being in the hands of the intrepid Pony Rider boy, Thaddeus Butler.  Tad knew well that he had a good thing and he proposed to hang on as long as there was an ounce of strength left in his body.  By this time Stacy had gotten a grip on the rope.