ger jumped down into the
_nullah_ again.

Then like a flash it leaped into sight over the near bank, bounding in a
furious charge straight at Badshah. Noreen held her breath as it crouched
to spring. Dermot's rifle was at his shoulder, and he pressed the trigger.
There was a click--the cartridge had missed fire. And the tiger sprang full
at the man.

But as it did so Badshah swung swiftly round--well for Noreen that she was
securely fastened--for he had been standing a little sideways. And with an
upward sweep of his head he caught the leaping tiger in mid-air on the
point of his tusk, hurling it back a dozen yards.

As the baffled brute struck the ground with a heavy thud it lay still for a
second and then sprang up, but at that moment Dermot's second barrel rang
out, and, shot through the brain, the tiger collapsed, its head resting on
its paws. A tremor shook the powerful frame, the tail twitched feebly, then
all was still.

The long line of elephants halted on the far bank of the _nullah_, swung
into file, and moved swiftly out of sight. Their work was done.

Dermot reloaded and urged Badshah forward, covering the tiger with his
rifle. There was no need. It was dead.

Noreen leant forward and looked down at the striped body.

"What a splendid beast!" she exclaimed.

Dermot turned to her.

"You kept your word well, Miss Daleham," he said. "I congratulate you on
your pluck. The highest compliment I can pay you is to say that I forgot
you were there. Not many men would have sat as quiet as you did when the
cartridge missed fire and the brute sprang."

The girl's eyes sparkled and she blushed. His praise was very dear to her.

In a lighter tone he continued:

"As a reward and a souvenir you shall have the skin. I'll get the
villagers to take it off. Now stay on Badshah, please, while I slip down
and have a look at the tiger's little nest."

With rifle at the ready, lest the dead animal should have had a mate,
he climbed down into the _nullah_. He had not gone ten yards before his
foot struck against something hard. In the pressed-down weeds was the
half-gnawed skull of a man. The skin and flesh of the face were fairly
intact. He took the head up in his hands. On the forehead were painted
three white horizontal strokes. The tiger's last prey had been a
Brahmin. A thought flashed across Dermot's mind. He searched about.
A few bones, parts of the hands and feet, some rags of clothing--and
a long flat narrow