One despair after another had seized him within an endless minute. More recklessly, in a burning fever of impatience, he pawed about and moved even closer to the tiger—whose sounds were horribly near.
He could almost have uttered a cry of joy when the severed fuse was discovered. He waited for nothing, but immediately pressed his brand against the sun-dried substance.
There was no powder there. It had spilled when it broke, and it harmlessly smoked as it burned.
Why a groan did not escape him, Sidney could never have told. He broke off the tough, resisting substance six inches further along and again applied his spark.
It seemed as if in all its length there could be no powder remaining. He was savagely grasping the fuse once more, to break it at a fresher place, when a fiery-red line, some four feet away, seemed creeping like a snake out beyond him.
The spark that was racing along to the bomb had been started while still he was sweating there with baffled and excited impatience.
He took no time for further caution, but sprang away to the shelter of the tree and caught at a lungful of breath.
There was not a sound in all the place. This much he knew in that second, as he hugged up close to the trunk. The tiger had ceased to lap at the meat, and perhaps was poised for a spring.
It seemed to Grenville, waiting there, that nothing would ever happen. A thousand doubts went darting through his brain. The fuse had failed! It was broken again. Or, perhaps——
A low growl broke the stillness. There was a sound of something moving towards the tree!