All this had happened so quickly that Ferrier, who had been beating the bush in the opposite direction from John, had not yet come up. The sudden flight of the villagers apprised him that something was wrong, and as he hurried to the spot he was horrified at the sight that met his gaze. Man and beast seemed only a yard apart. He dared not shoot for fear of hitting John, and seeing that the shot had but momentarily checked the animal, he had given up his friend for lost when, as by a miracle, a sudden diversion occurred. The lion was leaping on John, who fired his second barrel with shaking hand and missed, when Said Mohammed scrambled to his feet and flew down the path, shrieking at the top of his voice. As if supposing that this white-clad yelling creature was his worst enemy, the lion changed the direction of his spring, almost grazing John as he fell, and bounded off after the Bengali, with such enormous leaps that escape seemed impossible. John hastily reloaded and fired, but he was trembling from head to foot; a mist seemed to rise before his eyes; and his shot went very wide of the mark. By the time Ferrier reached his side the chase seemed over; they thought that nothing could save the unlucky Indian. But when almost within the brute’s clutches, Said Mohammed with the desperation of terror made a sudden jump to the right towards the river, as if intending to fling himself into it. The lion swerved after him, presenting his flank to the anxious spectators. Quick as thought Ferrier raised his rifle and, just as the beast was midway in his final spring, brought him down with a bullet through the heart. [Illustration: "Ferrier raised his rifle, and brought him down with a bullet through the heart."] John heaved a deep sigh of relief. "Good man!" he said. "But what on earth is the fellow up to?"