He seized a blazing brand out of the fire and hastened to the place
from which the sounds emanated.

"Come here, quick, Lathrop," he cried. The younger lad scurried
back and found Billy bending over a roughly constructed nest or bed.
On it lay four tiny, fuzzy yellow things. They were "meowing" at
the tops of their voices as the torrent of water that had annoyed
the boys dripped into their snug nesting-place. At the same instant
the boys became aware of a sickening odor of decaying flesh.

"Come on! we've got to get out of here quick as quick as we can,"
exclaimed Billy as they hastened towards the fresh air.

"Why, what is it, Billy?" asked Lathrop.

"I don't know; but I think that those are lion cubs--they look like
the ones I've seen in the Bronx Zoo," was the young reporter's
reply, "and if they are, this is no place for us. Come on--the
storm is letting up. Let's get out quick before the old ones get
back."

The storm, with the suddenness with which these furious tropical
disturbances arise and vanish, had indeed gone and the sun was
shining down once more on the drenched jungle, which glittered with
diamond like spangles as the rays struck the dripping fronds and
branches. But the boys had no eyes for the scene about them,
beautiful as it was, for as they emerged from the cave a low growl
greeted them.