100 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA 
struck me high in the chest and caught my upper 
right arm with her mouth. This not only saved my 
throat but left her hind legs hanging clear where they 
could not reach my stomach. With my left hand I 
caught her throat and tried to wrench my right arm 
free, but I couldn’t do it except little by little. When 
I got grip enough on her throat to loosen her hold just 
a little she would catch my arm again an inch or two 
lower down. In this way I drew the full length of the 
arm through her mouth inch by inch. I was conscious 
of no pain, only of the sound of the crushing of tense 
muscles and the choking, snarling grunts of the beast. 
As I pushed her farther and farther down my arm I 
bent over, and finally when it was almost freed I fell 
to the ground, the leopard underneath me, my right 
hand in her mouth, my left hand clutching her throat, 
my knees on her lungs, my elbows in her armpits 
spreading her front legs apart so that the frantic 
clawing did nothing more than tear my shirt. Her 
body was twisted in an effort to get hold of the ground 
to turn herself, but the loose sand offered no hold. 
For a moment there was no change in our positions, 
and then for the first time I began to think and hope I 
had a chance to win this curious fight. Up to that 
time it had been simply a good fight in which I ex- 
pected to lose, but now if I could keep my advantage 
perhaps the pony boy would come with a knife. I 
called, but to no effect. I still held her and continued 
to shove the hand down her throat so hard she could 
not close her mouth and with the other I gripped her 
throat in a strangle hold. Then I surged down on 
