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Indian climate. Awoke suddenly by the growl of the tiger, closely
followed by the reports of the rifles, it took him some seconds to
realise the situation. Even then his faculties seemed confused, for,
seizing his rifle, he dashed, without speaking a word, through the gate,
in the low compound wall, followed by the loud laughter of his comrades.

"Hallo! stop, you sleepy hunter of tigers!" shouted Curtis, as soon as
he could speak for laughter. A fierce growl from the other side of the
compound was heard, a long snarl of mingled anger and pain dying away
into a deep moan, the report of a rifle ringing loudly on the night air,
and all was still.

The two officers looked at each other for a second, then, their emptied
pieces in their hands, they also dashed through the gateway, followed at
a cautious distance however by the now thoroughly awakened bearers, who
had been sleeping beside the palanquin.

The starlight showed the tiger lying dead, and beside it in a half
sitting posture, Ensign Harris, with his rifle across his knees.

The wounded brute, after clearing the low wall, had fallen, then dragged
itself heavily forward, just passing the gateway, when Harris, at top
speed, dashed out, to pitch head foremost over the writhing body in its
death struggle. The rifle fell from his hand, and the tiger, though
dying, eager for revenge, struck out at the youth's body, as he rolled
over and over, carried on by the speed at which he had been running.

"By Jove you've had a narrow escape, my boy. It's not every fellow
clears a tiger that way," exclaimed Hughes, as the two stood leaning on
their rifles by the carcase of the dead animal.

"I haven't got clear," replied the Ensign, rising to one knee, and
wincing with pain as he did so; "but you will find my ball in the
tiger's head, and so I have fairly earned the skin."

"Here, you fellows, fetch the palky," cried Curtis. "It is a question
of your own skin, not the tiger's. Wounds are never so easily cured
under the sun of India as at home."

"Oh, it's only a scratch, Curtis," said the brave lad, as the palanquin
came up, and his comrades placed him in it.

"I tell you there's no such thing as only a scratch here. If you will
go with him to his quarters, Hughes, I'll send Chapman."

The Ensign's bungalow was close by; Chapman, the assistant-surgeon of
the regiment, was soon awoke, the wound found to be a severe but not
dangerous one, the tiger, having struck