The waterfall was not much of a waterfall. A little way from the leopard's cave was a small spring high up in the rocks. A tiny stream of water fell about ten feet making a great spray and quite a little noise. It made a wonderful shower.
The mother leopard lay on the rocks below while Johnny climbed up to the waterfall. Johnny danced about as the cool water hit his hot dusty skin. It felt wonderful running all over him. Then he walked into a pool and splashed happily.
Then Johnny began to sing. With him the little waterfall sang a tinkling, merry tune that blotted out even the chatter of the birds in the surrounding trees.
It did not blot out a coughing roar that came from the mother leopard. Johnny knew that sound. It meant come!
Johnny stopped singing and looked down. The leopardess was on her feet now, looking into the sky. Johnny looked too. A helicopter floated soundlessly overhead, its jets off.
Johnny looked around for some place to hide. There was none.
The mother leopard crouched. Her muscles rippled under her black and gold skin. In one mighty spring she was beside him. Before Johnny knew what was happening, her great jaws opened—and closed around him. The long sabre teeth barely touched his skin.
With no more effort than if she were carrying a feather, she leaped through the air with Johnny in her mouth. When she landed Johnny's feet thumped painfully against a rock. Where she was holding him about the middle in her teeth, he was unharmed.
Johnny heard the roar of gunfire as the helicopter's motors were switched on. Still carrying Johnny in her jaws, the mother leopard screamed in pain. Johnny was tumbled to the ground, half dazed.
A very shaken Johnny watched the mother leopard run away a short distance, then turn and spring back toward him. A second later she was standing over Johnny, putting her body between him and the helicopter. She roared her defiance at the machine. Johnny marveled at her courage. She started to pick him up again.