"Not a sup nor a sip. We stood there, he laughin' and me listenin' to
the moan in the air, an' lookin' roun' at the black wall o' night `Blow
me!' says the sailor chap, `if the swab ain't come back,' an' with that
he took out his jack knife an' flung it at the flamin' eye, which had
moved back inter the light from the lantern. That eye never winked, an'
it made me shiver. `Come on,' says the sailor, `I'll foller him to the
devil,' says he. `Foller him,' says I, `but I'm goin' back;' and back I
went; and he, not havin' the lantern, had to come along too, which he
did cheekin' me the ole time. Well, before we'd gone a hundred paces,
ther' were that eye ahead, an' he says, `Let us get nearer.' We went
closer, when all on a sudden that eye went out like a burnt match. Jes'
then I yeard a rustlin' noise behind, an' whipping roun', saw there were
a pair o' sparkles shining green. He seed 'em too. `Don't shoot,' says
I, `it's a shadder.' `Shadder be blowed,' says he, `yer a ole fool.'
He were gettin' ready to fire, when I gripped him by the arm, while the
hair riz on my head, for I saw what was behind those green eyes. `Let
me go,' he says, hissin' through his teeth. `If you fire,' I says
speakin' solumn, `yere a dead man.' `You're silly,' he says, pulling
hard. `How can a little hare hurt me?'
"`That hare,' says I, `is a tiger.'"
"Was it?"
"You wait. You know's well as I do a hare, by reason of his eyes bein'
wide apart, only shows one eye to the light, an', moreover, he sits with
his head sideways. Well, these two eyes, when I looked ag'in, were
close together, an' they gave a green light. `A tiger,' says I, an'
with my hand on his arm we went back to the house. As I shut the door I
yeared that grunt ag'in--an' ag'in as we sat down listenin'. Well, that
sailor chap, he warn't satisfied. He must open the door an' look out.
`Come here,' he says, an' looking out over his shoulder there I seed
that hare sitting up, an' the light shining thro' his body, `'Tis a
white hare,' he says. `It's a sperrit,' says I. `Sperrit or no
sperrit,' he says, snatchin' the gun, `I lay him out!' With that he
stepped out into the darkness, an' the lantern went out. Then it
happened."
"What happened?"
"Something 'twixt the sailor lad and the tiger. As I searched aroun'
fer a match I yeard the gun, there were a roar and a shriek, an' when I
got the light started an' went out there were only his old hat an' the
gun. I'm not fooling with any o' yer tigers that's got sperrits
watchin' over 'em. I'm going home in the mornin'."
CHAPTER SIX.
THE BABOON AND THE TORTOISE.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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