Just then a savage sniff was heard, followed instantly by the sound of
hoofs, as the unknown animal charged upon Herbert Watrous, who was
whirling his half-expired torch around his head with such swiftness that
it made a ring of fire, similar to those which all boys delight to look
upon during the pyrotechnic displays on the Fourth of July.
Herbert was so impressed with the importance of this action, that he
threw all his energy in it, stooping down and rising on his tip-toes
with the motion of the torch, and grunting hard and with much
regularity, as he always did when exerting himself with unusual vigor.
He caught the warning cry of Sam and the rattle of the hoofs at the same
instant.
"_Shoot him! Shoot him!_" he shouted to his friends, who could not gain
the view of the beast necessary to make the shot safe for Herbert
himself.
The savage creature, from some reason, probably because the torch was
less formidable, made for the city youth, who was not aware of his
danger until too late.
The brute went directly between his outspread feet, and, lifting him on
his back, carried him several paces, when Herbert, his gun, torch, and
himself, mixed up in great confusion, rolled off backward, turning a
partial somersault and landing solidly on his head, his gun going off in
the confusion and adding to it.
Sam Harper threw down his torch, so as to use his rifle, but he saw
Herbert's dilemma and waited the chance to shoot without danger of
harming him; but the partial extinguishment of his own torch, and the
total blotting out of Herbert's, rendered the risk still greater.
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