hour. The sky was
cloudless and the moon full. Not a breath of wind stirred a leaf of the
forest that encircled the small clearing. The buzz of mosquitoes, or
the flapping about of a huge bat alone disturbed the silence of the
night, and the watchers were beginning to fear it would turn out to be a
false alarm, when the cattle in the yard began to low in a quick yet
mournful tone. They knew full well that their enemy was at hand! A few
minutes, that appeared an age, of anxiety followed. Then some bullocks
that had been purposely fastened near the hut began to bellow furiously.
Another instant, and the tiger cleared the fence with a magnificent
bound, alighted in the yard, and crouched for a spring. The moon shone
full in his glaring eyeballs, making his head a splendid target. Three
shots crashed out in one report, and with a roar that would have done
credit to the monarch of the African wilderness, this king of the
western forest fell down and died.

He was a full-grown tiger with a beautifully marked skin, which Bunco
was not long in stripping from the carcass, while the Spaniard, who was
highly delighted by this success, set about preparing breakfast. They
were all too much excited to think of going to bed again; and, besides,
it was within an hour of daybreak.

During the morning Will Osten persuaded his host to give him one of his
old guns in exchange for a beautiful silver-mounted hunting knife, which
was the only article of value that he happened to possess. With this
useful addition to their arms, the travellers resumed their journey
shortly after dawn, being convoyed several miles on their way by their
amiable host. They parted from him, finally, with much regret and many
professions of gratitude and esteem, especially from Larry, who, in the
fulness of his impulsive nature, reiterated his pressing invitation to
pay him a visit in his "swait little cabin in the bog of Clonave, County
Westmeath, ould Ireland!"

We will not drag the reader through every step of the rough and
adventurous journey which was accomplished by our travellers in the
succeeding week, during which they became so familiar with tigers, that
Muggins thought no more of their roaring than he did of the mewing of
cats, while Larry actually got the length of kicking the "sarpints" out
of his way, although he did express his conviction, now and then, that
the "counthry wos mightily in want of a visit from Saint Patrick." They
trave