“There’s no knowing what harm has been done; for I really cannot get my surgeon to ascertain,” replied the young merchant.
“No! ah! that’s strange,” responded his host: “I always like to know the worst. It’s a great consolation.”
“Let us get out of this horrid place, or we shall all be eaten up by wild beasts,” exclaimed Fortyfolios, who was sitting, disconsolate and uneasy on the top of his elephant.
“Such a thing might be. I’ve known several persons whose ardour in pursuit of game has made them food for tigers,” remarked Sir Curry. “Poor Lord Muligatawny was only one instance out of many.”
“Oh!” groaned the professor.
“See, he revives!” exclaimed the doctor, directing attention to his patient, whose eyes were gently unclosing.
“Zabra! my dear Zabra! are you better?” asked Oriel, as he supported his young friend’s head on his shoulder.
Zabra looked about him with a wild stare, till his eyes fell upon the elephant, who had all the time been an attentive spectator of the scene, and then, as if remembering what he had suffered, he gave a slight convulsive shudder, and sunk back into the arms of his patron.
“The tiger is dead, Zabra!” exclaimed Oriel.