It seemed as though I had only just fallen asleep when I awoke with startling suddenness. The rain was pelting down on the roof in torrents, making quite noise enough to account for my sudden awakening, through which I could just hear poor Kit whining and fidgeting restlessly under the veranda, outside my French window. Imagining that it was these combined sounds that had awakened me, I rose, thinking:
“I must fetch that animal indoors. I expect the poor beggar is getting pretty wet, hence his restlessness.”
One of the doors of my room opened into the living-room, while the other gave on to the veranda, both of them being wide open. As I passed through the latter a vivid flash of lightning revealed the rain coming straight down in sheets and rebounding in glittering spray off the already streaming earth, with Kit straining at his leash, which Billy had made fast as usual to one of the veranda posts. The beast had withdrawn himself as far under the veranda as his leash would permit, and he did not appear to be very wet; but he seemed anxious to enjoy the more complete shelter of the living-room, so I stepped out and cast him adrift.
To my amazement, the instant that I released him from his leash, he tore himself away from my hold upon his collar and, with a savage snarl, bounded through the living-room door. The next instant there issued from the interior of the room a yell of consternation, immediately followed by a shriek of terror, the fall of a heavy body on the floor, screams, execrations, and the dreadful sound of Kit worrying somebody or something; and before I could draw another breath the figure of a yelling, screaming, frantic man dashed from the room, cleared the veranda steps at a bound, landed heavily on the ground some five feet below, and, still screaming, disappeared through the curtain of pouring rain.
But the sounds from the living-room still continued with increasing violence, augmented now by cries from Billy, whose form I dimly descried outlined against the dark background of the open door; and a perception of what had happened, and was still happening, leapt to my brain with sudden enlightenment.
“Bring a light, Billy, quick!” I shouted, as I sprang through into the living-room and, instinctively avoiding the table that stood in the middle of the room, flung myself upon the struggling group on the floor. My hands at once came into contact with Kit’s hairy hide, and slid along it until they closed upon the collar round his neck, when, exerting all my strength, I dragged the beast, still savagely snarling and resisting, off the writhing and groaning form at my feet. Somehow—to this day I know not how—I managed to drag the fiercely struggling creature out of the room and back to the veranda, where I securely tied him up again. Then I returned to the living-room as Billy entered it with a lighted lamp.
I took the lamp from him and said:
“Light the lamp in my room, boy, and then lend me a hand to put this man on my bed.”
I next turned to the writhing, groaning figure on the floor and saw that, as I had already surmised, it was that of—Svorenssen! He was dressed only in shirt and trousers, both of which, rain-sodden and drenched with blood, were torn to rags by the teeth and claws of the leopard, which was still raving outside and doing his utmost to break adrift from his moorings. The man’s injuries, especially about the throat, shoulders, arms, and chest, were shocking; and I felt that, with the limited appliances at our command, there was but very small hope of saving his life. He still grasped in his right hand a formidable bludgeon, and a similar weapon lay on the floor near him.
I had only time to take in these details when Billy returned, and between us we contrived to half carry, half drag the writhing and groaning Finn into my room and deposit him on my bed. I then sent Billy to the natives’ room, the occupants of which had been roused by the disturbance, bidding him set them to work providing warm water and such other matters as I thought I might require.