As soon as the Doctor had got out, the subalterns eagerly examined the tiger, upon which the natives were heaping curses and execrations. “How many wounds has it got?” they asked the Doctor, who repeated the question to the shikari in his own language. “Three, sahib. One full in the chest--it would have been mortal--two others in the ribs by the heart.” “No others?” the subalterns exclaimed in disgust, as the answer was translated to them. The Doctor himself examined the tiger. “No; you both missed, lads, but you need not be ashamed of that; it is no easy matter to hit a tiger even at a short distance on a dark night like this, when you can scarce make him out, and can’t see the barrel of your rifle. I ought to have told you to rub a little phosphorus off the head of a match onto the sight. I am so accustomed to do it myself as a matter of course that I did not think of telling you. Well, I am heartily glad we have killed it, for by all accounts it has done an immense deal of damage.” “It has been a fine tiger in its time, although its skin doesn’t look much,” Wilson said; “there are patches of fur off.” “That is generally the case with man eaters. They are mostly old tigers who take, when they get past their strength, to killing men. I don’t know whether the flesh doesn’t agree with them, but they are almost always mangy.” “We were afraid for a moment,” Richards said, “that the tiger was going to break into your cage; we heard him clawing away at the timber, and as you didn’t fire again we were afraid something was the matter.” “The mother was,” the Doctor said testily. “The moment the tiger sprang, the woman threw herself down at full length right on the top of my second rifle, and when I went to push her off I think she fancied the tiger had got hold of her, for she gave a yell that fairly made me jump. I had to push her off by main force, and then lie down on my back, so as to get the rifle up to fire. I was sure the first shot was fatal, for I knew just where his heart would be, but I dropped a second cartridge in, and gave him another bullet so as to make sure. Well, if either of you want his head or his claws, you had better say so at once, for the natives will be singeing his whiskers off directly; the practice is a superstition of theirs.” “No, I don’t want them,” Wilson said. “If I had put a bullet into the brute, so that I could have said I helped to kill him, I should have liked the head to get it preserved and sent home to my people, but as it is the natives are welcome to it as far as I am concerned.” Richards was of the same opinion, and so without further delay they started back for the village, where, upon their arrival, they were greeted with cries of joy by the women, the news having already been carried back by a boy.