Old Juno, staunch to the last, was foremost in the fray. After a time, I saw her change her plan of attack, and spring at the throat of the lioness; who, in an instant, raised her left paw, and at one blow the cruel claws had laid open the body of the dog, and destroyed the life of the true and faithful companion of so many years. Just then Fritz appeared. The lioness was much weakened, and we ventured to go near enough to fire with safety to ourselves; and finally I dispatched her by plunging a hunting-knife deep in her breast. Ernest and Jack were summoned from the yacht to witness the completed victory; and I regretted having left them on board, when I saw how greatly the noise and tumult had alarmed them, unable, as they were, to ascertain what was going on. They hastened toward us in great agitation, and their joy on seeing us safe was only equaled by the grief they felt on learning the death of Juno. The night was now far advanced; the fire burnt low; but we piled on more wood, and, by the renewed light, drew poor Juno from between the paws of the lioness; and by the brookside, washed and bound up the torn body, wrapping it carefully in canvas, and carrying it with us on board the yacht, that it might be buried at Rockburg, whither on the following day it was our purpose to return. Wearied and sorrowful, but full of thankfulness for our personal safety, we at length lay down to sleep, having brought all the dogs on board. Next morning, before quitting Pearl Bay, we once more landed, that we might possess ourselves of the magnificent skins of the lion and lioness, whose visit, fatal to themselves, had caused such a commotion during the night. In about a couple of hours we returned to the yacht, leaving the flayed carcasses to the tender mercies of the birds of prey sure to be attracted to them. "Homeward bound," sang out the boys, as they cheerily weighed anchor, and prepared to stand out to sea. I could see, though he did not complain, that poor Jack had not recovered from the boar's rough treatment, and moved very stiffly. "You must pilot us through the channel in the reef this time, Fritz," said I; adding, in a lower tone, "and then is it to be 'farewell,' my son?" "Yes, dear father--Au revoir!" returned he, brightly, with a glance full of meaning, while he threw into his canoe a cushion and a fur cloak. "Thanks, Fritz! but I'm going to honor them with the care of my battered bones in the yacht here. You are awfully considerate, though, old fellow," remarked Jack, not for a moment doubting that his brother expected him to return, as he came, beside him in the cajack. Fritz laughed, and commended his decision. Then springing into his skiff, he led the way toward the open sea.