He was not alone, however. In the jungle close beside him a tiger
prowled along with the stealthy, lithe, sneaking activity of a cat. By
that time it was not absolutely dark, but the forest had assumed a very
sombre appearance. Suddenly the tiger made a tremendous bound on to the
track right in front of the man. Whether it had miscalculated the
position of its intended victim or not we cannot say, but it crouched
for another spring. The professor, almost instinctively, crouched also,
and, being a brave man, stared the animal straight in the face without
winking! and so the two crouched there, absolutely motionless and with a
fixed glare, such as we have often seen in a couple of tom-cats who were
mutually afraid to attack each other.

What the tiger thought at that critical and crucial moment we cannot
tell, but the professor's thoughts were swift, varied, tremendous--
almost sublime, and once or twice even ridiculous!

"Vat shall I do? Deaf stares me in zee face! No veapons! only a net,
ant he is _not_ a bootterfly! Science, adieu! Home of my chilthood,
farevell! My moder--Hah! zee fusees!"

Such were a few of the thoughts that burned but found no utterance. The
last thought however led to action. Verkimier, foolish man! was a
smoker. He carried fusees. Slowly, with no more apparent motion than
the hour-hand on the face of a watch, he let his hand glide into his
coat-pocket and took out the box of fusees. The tiger seemed uneasy,
but the bold man never for one instant ceased to glare, and no disturbed
expression or hasty movement gave the tiger the slightest excuse for a
spring. Bringing the box up by painfully slow degrees in front of his
nose the man opened it, took out a fusee, struck it, and revealed the
blue binoculars!

The effect on the tiger was instantaneous and astounding. With a
demi-volt or backward somersault it hurled itself into the jungle whence
it had come with a terrific roar of alarm, and its tail--undoubtedly
though not evidently--between its legs!

Heaving a deep, long-drawn sigh, the professor stood up and wiped his
forehead. Then he listened intently.

"A shote, if mine ears deceive me not!" he said, and listened again.

He was right. Another shot, much nearer, was heard, and he replied with
a shout to which joy as much as strength of lung gave fervour. Hurrying
along the track--not without occasional side-glances at the jungle--the
hero was soon again in the midst of