Timokles swung aside as far as possible. A great mass of mud,
dislodged from the roof, fell, smiting alike boy and beast,
enveloping them in a cloud of blinding dust. The lad clung to the
branch with desperate strength, though his support was swaying to
and fro. The claws of one of the leopard's paws raked Timokles' arm,
and then the beast dropped to the floor.

The leopard's angry cries stunned Timokles' ears. He clutched the
palm branch tightly. From the swaying motion and the sound of a
slight, though ominous, cracking, Timokles doubted if his support
were reliable.

The rage of the leopard was frightful. He seemed beside himself. He
leaped and rushed hither and thither, as he saw Timokles climbing
higher.

The boy shook with exhaustion. His right arm bled from the wounds of
the leopard's claws. He was alarmed lest the old palm branch should
break or should loosen from the wall. If he once fell back into the
leopard's jaws, there would be a swift end to this skirmishing.

Timokles looked down at the eager eyes. Then he scanned the palm
branch narrowly. It did not hang parallel with the wall, but stood
out a little from it, and Timokles thought that the branch was
partly broken, up next the roof. He hardly dared climb much higher
for fear of breaking it entirely off. So he lay along the branch,
clasping it with his arms, and shut his eyes. He heard the leopard
walk impatiently around, stop, utter an angry cry, walk restlessly
again, spring unavailingly into the air, drop heavily to the floor.