In the tiger's lair

by Leo E. Miller

After a hurried breakfast the two Americans hastened to the stranded airplane. The wings and body had been battered considerably by the wind, but as no rain had fallen since their arrival, the guns were free from rust and in good working order. They immediately set about to strip the weapons, carefully wiped all the working parts with oily cloths, and reloaded the magazines. Then they made tripods of stout poles on which to mount the guns.

In the meantime the people had been sent away to places of security. Only fifty picked soldiers, with their officers, were retained. These were ordered to look after their bows, arrows, and swords in order to be sure that everything was in fighting trim. Shortly before noon all preparations had been completed, and the expedition, with Stanley and Ted in the lead, started for the break in the mountainside.

If there had been any doubt as to the locality from which the tigers had come, the great footprints of the animals would have dispelled them soon. Where the ground was soft or under cultivation the massive paws had sunk to a depth of nearly twelve inches, and the holes measured fully as much in diameter. Some were larger than others, indicating that several of the beasts, of various ages, had been quick to take advantage of an opportunity to secure a meal easily.

“We will mount one of the guns here,” Stanley said when they had approached to within fifty yards of the opening. “You stay here with half the men; I will place the remainder on either side of the gap while I take a look at what is on the other side. If there is none of the animals in sight I will motion to you to come on. If there should be one near by and it charges, I will run to the rocks on one side so as to give you a clear sweep of the gap. Keep the gun trained on the opening, and if anything comes through hold the trigger back until you are sure the bullets are hitting in the right spot. You can’t miss at such close range.”

“You stay here and let me go first,” Ted pleaded. But Stanley insisted on being the one to face the danger.

The gun was quickly set up, a magazine full of cartridges snapped into place, and the muzzle trained on the narrow passage through which the tigers must come if they should be aroused and attempted a charge. Then Stanley cautiously started forward with his men, weapons in hand, the party moving in two files, one on each side, and keeping out of sight as much as possible behind the mass of rocks that had fallen from above.

They halted when they reached the foot of the escarpment, and Stanley mounted his gun on one side of the breech. Then he crept forward alone, at such a slow pace that he seemed scarcely to move. His face was covered with cold perspiration, and he thought the pounding of his heart must be audible across the entire expanse of the valley, but his courage remained unshaken. Crouching low, he took a hurried peep around the edge of the rock barrier. Ted watched his every move, firmly gripping the handle of the gun with one hand, the forefinger of the other resting lightly on the trigger.

Stanley must have seen nothing of a formidable nature, for he took a second and longer look, then, emboldened, crept into the opening. A few minutes later he emerged, crawling backward, and motioning to the men to remain where they were, hastened to Ted’s side.

“It’s the most wonderful thing I ever saw in my life.” He could hardly speak from excitement. “There is another world beyond that wall of stone, and it belongs to the past—thousands of years ago, I mean. You won’t believe it; you can’t until you see for yourself.”

“What is it?” Ted asked, also breathless with excitement. “You wait here now and let me sneak up and see.”