"A very fine tiger," said the King, going close up to the dead beast; "a splendid specimen. Let it be carefully skinned, and the skin properly dressed."
Sree bowed his lowest, so that his forehead would have touched the ground had not the tiger been there. As it was, he thumped his head against the animal's ribs.
"Who fired the first shot?" said the King, smiling.
The boys looked at one another.
"Both fired together, father," replied Phra.
"Then you will give way to your friend, my son," said the King. "Harry
Kenyon, it is yours."
Harry was about to protest in his blunt way, but his father was at his elbow.
"Silence!" he said softly. "Now your thanks."
Harry obeyed, and the King turned to where the little party of English people were standing.
"I am glad it has turned out so well, Kenyon," he said gravely, and with great dignity, as the eyes of all his people were upon him; "but it is disappointing for you and the doctor to see these two boys have such good fortune. You shall have another trial, and we must do away with our objections now. I think the boys deserve to be admitted to the ranks of tiger-hunters."