the
patch being some fifty or sixty yards long and thirty deep.

"It is a nasty place," Ramajee Punt said, "to get him from. The
beaters cannot get behind to drive him out, and the jungle is too
thick to penetrate."

"How do you intend to proceed?" Charlie asked.

"We will send a party to the top of the hill, and they will throw down
crackers. We have brought some rockets, too, which we will send in
from the other side. We will take our places, on our elephants, at the
foot of the terrace."

The three elephants took their posts, at the foot of the boulder
covered rise. As soon as they had done so, the men at the top of the
rock began to throw down numbers of lighted crackers; while, from
either side, parties sent rockets whizzing into the jungle.

For some time the tiger showed no signs of his presence, and Charlie
began to doubt whether he could be really there. The shikaris,
however, declared that he was certainly in the jungle. He had, on the
day before, carried off a woman from a neighbouring village; and had
been traced to the jungle, round which a watch had been kept all
night.

Suddenly, uttering a mighty roar, the tiger bounded from the jungle,
and stood at the edge of the terrace. Startled at his sudden
appearance, the elephants recoiled, shaking the aim of their riders.
Three shots were, however, fired almost at the same moment; and the
tiger, with another roar, bounded back into the jungle.

"I think," the rajah said, "that he is badly hit. Listen to his
roarings."

The tiger, for a time, roared loudly at intervals. Then the sounds
became lower and less frequent, and at last ceased altogether. In vain
did the natives above shower down crackers. In vain were the rockets
discharged into the jungle. An hour passed, since he had last been
heard.

"I expect that he's dead," Charlie said.

"I think so, too," Ramajee Punt replied; "but one can never be
certain. Let us draw off a little, and take our luncheon. After that,
we can try the fireworks again. If he will not move, then we must
leave him."

"But surely," Charlie said, "we might go in and see whether he's dead
or not."

"A wounded tiger is a terrible foe," the Ramajee answered. "Better
leave him alone."

Charlie, however, was anxious to get the skin to send home, with those
of the others he had shot, to his mother and sisters. It might be very
long before he had an opportunity of joining in another tiger hunt;
and he resolved that, if the