“A tiger!” again shouted Sir Curry.
“Murder!” again screamed the professor; and he trembled so violently that he caught hold of the framework of the seat to secure his position on the elephant. The game now became very plentiful; and the hunt was followed from one jungle through open vistas into another. Oriel entered into the pursuit with ardour, but Zabra did not appear to join in it with the least interest. He seemed to entertain the same objection to being devoured as Fortyfolios, or else his anxiety for the safety of his companion destroyed all pleasure in the chase. He became restless and uneasy; but Oriel was so actively engaged in looking for and despatching the game, that he did not notice the disquietude of his friend. They had killed several tigers; and, having pursued a very large one out of the jungle into an open valley, he there made a stand before a large banyan tree. The hunters surrounded him, and he was crouching, lashing himself with his tail, and preparing for a spring, as they approached. As soon as they came within shooting distance, Oriel, Sir Curry, and Dr. Tourniquet, fired; instantly, with a low half-stifled growl, the tiger gave two or three prodigious bounds, and leaped upon the elephant upon which Zabra was sitting; and immediately afterwards both were rolling together among the long grass. The elephant, as soon as she observed Zabra’s danger, as if in gratitude for the attentions she had received from him before starting for the hunt, turned round and ran at the tiger as if with the intention of trampling him down. The young merchant, in the anguish of the moment, at seeing his friend in the power of the ferocious beast, had at first lost his presence of mind, but observing that the elephant had succeeded in drawing the attention of the tiger from his victim, he slipped off her back, and, with no other weapon than his hunting sword, advanced to the place where the animal stood. The elephant had made two or three rushes at the tiger, but had not succeeded in getting him under her feet, and he was still crouching beside the prostrate body of Zabra, when he observed the approach of Oriel.
“Let me have a shot at him, Master Porphyry,” exclaimed his host.
“You will be killed, don’t you see, if you attack him with such a useless weapon?” shouted Tourniquet. Oriel still advanced with his sword firmly grasped, his arm raised, and his gaze fixed upon that of the tiger. The savage beast curved his back and lashed his tail; his fur became erect, and his eyes seemed flashing with an expression of the most terrible ferocity. Oriel Porphyry still moved forward; and as the tiger, with a low sharp growl, made a bound towards him, he leaped on one side, and turning quickly round dealt a blow with all his force, that severed the tendons of the animal’s leg, as he reached the ground. The brute howled with pain, and rushed with open mouth upon his antagonist. The wound he had received prevented him from making a spring, but he dashed furiously forward upon three legs, with looks intent upon mischief.
At this instant, the elephant made a rush at the tiger, and tumbled him over to a considerable distance. Oriel again advanced towards him; and lashing himself into a fiercer rage, the wounded beast prepared to dig his claws and teeth into the body of his pursuer; but the young merchant avoided all the desperate attempts the savage creature made to fasten upon him, and inflicted upon his head and legs several severe wounds; then, watching his opportunity, he brought down the sword with all his strength upon his skull, and the tiger fell dead at his feet.
When he turned round to hasten to Zabra’s assistance, he found the elephant trying to raise him from the ground with her trunk: and she seemed as much concerned at the accident as any person there, and moved him as gently, and looked in his face as anxiously, as the tenderest nurse could have done.
“Bravely fought, Master Porphyry!” exclaimed Sir Curry. “I never saw finer sport; and you have shown yourself one of the best hunters I ever met with. You shall have the skin, for you’ve well deserved it.”
“Are you much hurt, my dear Zabra?” he anxiously inquired, without attending to his host’s commendations, as he bent over the prostrate body of his friend. A low groan was all the reply he received. “Dr. Tourniquet!” shouted Oriel: but the doctor was standing at his side, having hastened to the spot when he saw that his services were likely to be required.
“See what can be done immediately,” added the young merchant earnestly. “I’m almost afraid the brute has killed him.”