Dave had been in perilous situations before, and had learned the important lesson that if he lost his wits all would be lost. The mountain lion was large and powerful and evidently in full fighting humor. The youth was armed, carrying a pistol by Tom Dillon's orders. Now, as he backed against the nearest rock, he drew the weapon and pointed it at the beast. The mountain lion crouched still lower and the tail of the creature moved from side to side with greater swiftness. Dave felt that in another second or two the beast would make a leap for him. In the semi-darkness of the rocky defile he could see the lion but indistinctly. But the two eyes were glaring at him and on one of these he centered his aim as best he could. As he pulled the trigger of the pistol the mountain lion jumped at him. Crack! went the weapon, echoing loudly in that confined space. The bullet missed the beast's head and buried itself in the shoulder. As Dave fired he leaped to one side. It was well that our hero made that move, otherwise the mountain lion must have come down directly on top of him. As it was the beast fell at his side, snarling and snapping fiercely, and turning in an effort to ascertain what that thing was which was burning him in the shoulder. Crack! the pistol sounded out again, and this time the mountain lion was hit in the neck. Over and over he rolled, but got quickly to his feet, and, wounded as he was, prepared for another spring at our hero. Again Dave fired, but this time his aim was not so true, and the bullet, grazing the lion's tail, struck a rock with a sharp click. Then the savage creature hurled himself straight for Dave's breast. Bang! bang! It was the double report from a huge, old-fashioned horse-pistol that Tom Dillon carried. The old miner had come clattering to the spot on horseback and with a single glance had taken in the situation. The leap of the mountain lion was stayed, and with a final snarl the beast rolled over and over, disappearing of a sudden into the opening of the cave Dave had discovered. "Are you hurt, lad?" asked the old miner, after he had waited anxiously for several seconds for the mountain lion to reappear. "Not in the--the least," was our hero's panting answer. "But it--it was a close call!" and he shuddered. "Do you think he's dead?" "I shouldn't wonder. You hit him, didn't you?" "Yes, twice. But they couldn't have been very good shots, or he wouldn't have come for me again." "Mountain lions is mighty tough, lad. I've seen one with six bullets in him still show fight. Load up, as quick as you can. His mate may be around." This advice was, however, unnecessary for Dave was already recharging the empty chambers of the pistol. From his Uncle Dunston he had learned years before the advisability of keeping one's weapon ready for use at all times. The sound of the shots had called the others of the party to the scene, and numerous were the questions asked.