Warruk felt an instinctive dread of the terrible creature that was so silently approaching. The unblinking eyes transfixed him--held him spell-bound. He had experienced nothing like it during the short year of his life. Trembling, he drew himself back against the wall of rotten wood as far as possible. The snake stopped and from its mouth came a hiss that sounded like a jet of escaping steam and lasted fully half a minute. Still the eyes came no nearer but motion was discernible in the darkened corner from which the reptile had appeared. The boa constrictor, for such it was, was noiselessly drawing foot after foot of its thick body into the chamber in preparation for a quick lunge at its victim. In a flash the scale-covered coils would be thrown about the cub, crushing him into pulp. Warruk shot forward as if hurled from a catapult--not at the snake, but over its head, soaring above it a distance of fully two feet. He struck the side of the circular prison with a thud, rebounded instantly and landed on the neck of the great serpent before it could turn to follow his movements. The strategy had been successful. Writhe and shake itself as it would, the reptile could not dislodge the jaguar; nor was it possible to entwine him with the coils that groped and threshed about in vain for an effective hold, so closely did he cling. His claws were buried deep in the snake's flesh while his teeth had closed like the jaws of a trap upon the slender neck just below the head. Seconds passed slowly and minutes, seeming more like hours, dragged by while the death struggle continued. Warruk knew that to lose his foothold meant a speedy end for him; his claws dug deeper through the tough hide and his jaws drew together with the slow, irresistible force of a vise. At last it came, a dull, faint report. The great reptile's head fell forward and the body lashed frantically; the spinal column had been severed and that marked the beginning of the end. A half hour later the long black and yellow body had writhed its last and lay in a limp, knotted heap in one side of the prison. The cub was crouched as far away as possible from the mound of shimmering flesh and not for an instant did he remove his eyes from it. It was as if he half expected the snake to come back to life to renew the combat. When night came Warruk resumed his restless pacing around the wall of his confining cell. The dead serpent did not trouble him now but he was careful not to tread upon it as he made his rounds. The air in the hollow stub was anything but invigorating. It was heavy with the stench of decaying vegetation, and damp. It was not unnatural, therefore, that the cub should stop to sniff enquiringly at a thin stream of fresh air that gushed from somewhere near the floor and rushed up the chimney-like stub. That phenomenon was worth investigating for the air must enter through a passage communicating with the outer world; and the cub was not long in finding it.