Through the air whizzed a gleaming, long, razor-edged knife that buried itself in the jaguar’s throat!
The stricken jaguar landed on the spot where but a moment before, Gillis and Dorn had stood, and sprawled out in a heap. It made one or two frantic digs at its throat in the attempt to dislodge the machete. But it had gone deep and the beast’s efforts were unavailing. A few convulsive struggles, and it was dead.
Amazed at this sudden end of their foe, the men approached it cautiously and prodded it with the butts of their guns. But there was no movement. The knife had done its work effectively.
Dorn’s eyes caught sight of the handle of the weapon, and he stooped down and drew it out, though he had to tug hard to get it. He held it up before his astonished companion.
“How did this get
