The Tiger 243 



halted, calling out * The tiger ! the tiger ! he will be killed ! 

 he will be killed ! ' meaning me. I did not take my eyes 

 off the tiger's, but put my hand behind my back, saying 

 in Burmese to the boy, ' Give me my gun ; ' but he and 

 the others only kept jabbering, ' He will be killed ! he will 

 be killed ! ' Not a man stirred, though they were all 

 armed and loaded. So there we were, the tiger and I, 

 face to face. At last, thinking to frighten it away, I 

 lifted the stick and pretended to hit it a back-handed 

 blow, at the same time making a sort of yelling noise. 

 The stick was over my left shoulder, but so far from 

 being intimidated, the tiger rushed at me, and I caught 

 him a blow on the side of the head and floored him. 



" Seeing him pick himself up with his back towards me, 

 I thought he was going to bolt, and for the first time turned 

 round, and said, 'Now give me my gun.' Before the 

 words were well out of my mouth, my stick was sent 

 fiying, my right hand pinned to my side by one of his 

 hind claws, and one of his fore-paws on my shoulder and 

 back, and he stood over me growling in a most diabolical 

 manner. I bent my back, stuck out my legs, and with 

 my left arm struck towards my right shoulder at the 

 brute's face, which was towering over me, snarling and 

 growling like the very devil. Suddenly, with an infernal 

 roar, he struck me on the neck, and down I went as if I 

 had been shot, the tiger turning a somersault over me, 

 and falling on his back. In a second, in my endeavors to 

 get up, I was on my hands and knees, the blood pouring 

 over my face, beard and chest, giving me, I have no 

 doubt, a most satanic appearance. As the tiger recovered 



