Wilson and Richards had their rifles now at their shoulders, but, in the feeble and uncertain light, felt by no means sure of hitting their mark, though it was but some thirty yards away. Almost breathlessly they listened for the Doctor’s rifle, but both started when the flash and sharp crack broke on the stillness. There was a sudden snarl of pain, the tiger gave a spring in the air, and then fell, rolling over and over. “It is not killed!” the shikari exclaimed. “Fire when it gets up.” Suddenly it rose to its feet, and with a loud roar sprang towards the thicket. The two subalterns fired, but the movements of the dimly seen creature were so swift that they felt by no means sure that they had hit it. Then came, almost simultaneously, a loud shriek from the woman, of a very different character to the long wails she had before uttered, followed by a sound of rending and tearing. “He is breaking down the cage!” Richards exclaimed excitedly, as he and Wilson hastened to ram another cartridge down their rifles. “Come, we must go and help the Doctor.” But a moment later came another report of a rifle, and then all was silent. Then the Doctor’s voice was heard. “Don’t get down from the tree yet, lads; I think he is dead, but it is best to make sure first.” There was a pause, and then another rifle shot, followed by the shout “All right; he is as dead as a door nail now. Mind your rifles as you climb down.” “Fancy thinking of that,” Wilson said, “when you have just killed a tiger! I haven’t capped mine yet; have you, Richards?” “I have just put it on, but will take it off again. Here, old man, you get down first, and we will hand the guns to you.”--this to the shikari. With some difficulty they scrambled down from the tree. “Now we may as well cap our rifles,” Richards said; “the brute may not be dead after all.” They approached the bush cautiously. “You are quite sure he is dead, Doctor?” “Quite sure; do you think I don’t know when a tiger is dead?” Still holding their guns in readiness to fire, they approached the bushes. “You can do no good until the villagers come with torches,” the Doctor said; “the tiger is dead enough, but it is always as well to be prudent.” The shikari had uttered a loud cry as he sprang down from the tree, and this had been answered by shouts from the distance. In a few minutes lights were seen through the trees, and a score of men with torches and lanterns ran up with shouts of satisfaction. As soon as they arrived the two young officers advanced to the cage. On the top a tiger was lying stretched out as if in sleep; with some caution they approached it and flashed a torch in its eyes. There was no doubt that it was dead. The body was quickly rolled off the cage, and then a dozen hands cut the lashing and lifted the top bars, which was deeply scored by the tiger’s claws, and the Doctor emerged. “I am glad to be out of that,” he said; “six hours in a cage with a woman and a crying brat is no joke.”