Colonel Stumper moved artfully backwards towards a big horsehair sofa, beneath the deer heads and assegais from Zululand. He did it on tiptoe, aware that this mysterious and suggestive way of walking has a marked effect on children in the dark. "I did not shoot it," he said, "because I lived with it. It was the most extraordinary tiger that was ever known--" "In India?" "In the world. And I ought to know, because, as I say, I lived with it for days--" "Inside it?" "Nearly, but not quite. I lived in its cave with the cubs and other things, half-eaten deer and cows and the bones of Hindus--" "Were the bones black? However did you escape? Why didn't the tiger eat you?" He drew the children closely round him on the sofa. "I'll tell you," he said, "for this is an inaugural occasion, and I've never told the story before to any one in the world. The experience was incredible, and no one would believe it. But the proof that it really happened is that the tiger has left its mark upon me till I die--" "But you haven't died--yet, I mean," Maria observed. "He means teeth, silly," Tim squelched her. "Died in another sense than the one you mean," the great soldier and former administrator of a province continued, "dyed yellow--" "Oh-h-h! Is that why--?" "That is why," he replied pathetically. "For living with that tiger family so long, I almost turned into one myself. The tiger nature got into me. I snarl and growl, I use my teeth ferociously when hungry, I walk stealthily on tiptoe, I let my whiskers grow, and my colour has the tint of Indian tigers' skins." "Have you got a tail, too?" He glared into the blue eyes of Maria, sternly. "It's growing," he whispered horribly, "it's growing." There was a pause in which credulity shook hands with faith. Belief was in the air. If doubt did whisper, "Let me see, please," it was too low to be quite audible. Come-Back Stumper was surrounded by an atmosphere of black-edged glory suddenly; he wore a halo; his feet were dipped in mystery. "Then what's an orgully occasion?" somebody asked. "This!" replied Stumper. But he uttered it so savagely that no one cared to press for further details. Clearly it was a secret and confidential moment, and "inaugural occasion" had something to do with the glory of wearing an incipient tail. Glory and mystery clothed Stumper from that moment with Indian splendour. At least, _he_ thought so.... "And the tiger?" came the whispering question. "Ugh-h-h-h!" he shuddered; "I'll tell you. But I must think a moment quietly first." "His tail hurts," Maria told Tim beneath her breath, while they waited for the story to begin. "So would yours," was the answer, "if you had a cold at the same time, too. A girl would simply cry." And he looked contempt at her, but unutterable respect at his soldier friend.