own on his knees, when abreast of, and not thirty yards distant from,
the place where the travellers lay. The tiger did not miss his
opportunity. He crouched and ran along with the twisting motion of a
huge cat; then he sprang a clear distance of twenty feet and alighted on
the horse's back, seizing him by the neck with a fearful growl. Now
came Bunco's opportunity. While the noble horse reared and plunged
violently in a vain attempt to get rid of his enemy, the cautious native
took a steady aim, and was so long about it that some of the party
nearly lost patience with him. At last he fired, and the tiger fell off
the horse, rolling and kicking about in all directions--evidently badly
wounded. The horse meanwhile galloped away and was soon lost to view.

Instead of loading and firing again, Bunco threw down his gun, and,
drawing a long knife, rushed in upon his victim. His comrades, who
thought him mad, sprang after him, but he had closed with the tiger and
plunged his knife into it before they came up. The creature uttered a
tremendous roar and writhed rapidly about, throwing up clouds of dust
from the dry ground, while Bunco made another dash at him and a plunge
with his long knife, but he missed the blow and fell. His comrades
closed in and brandished their clubs, but the rapid motions of man and
beast rendered it impossible for them to strike an effective blow
without running the risk of hitting the man instead of the tiger. In
the midst of a whirlwind of dust and leaves, and a tempest of roars and
yells, the bold native managed to drive his knife three times into the
animal's side, when it rolled over with a savage growl and expired.

"Are ye hurt, Bunco?" inquired Will Osten with much anxiety, when the
man rose, covered with dust and blood, and stood before them.

"No moche hurt, only scrash a bit."

"Scratched a bit!" exclaimed Larry, "it's torn to tatters ye ought to be
for bein' so venturesome."

"That's so," said Muggins; "ye shouldn't ha' done it, Bunco; what would
have comed of us if ye'd bin killed, eh?"

"Oh, dat am noting," said Bunco, drawing himself up proudly; "me hab
kill lots of dem before; but dis one hims die hard."

Will Osten, who was anxious to ascertain whether the man had really
escaped serious injury, put a stop to the conversation by hurrying him
off to the nearest pool and washing his wounds. They proved, as he had
said, to be trifling--only a slight bite on the shoulder an