Time passed. Ten seconds seemed an hour, and yet no spring. And then, of a sudden, there flashed into his mind a desperate chance, yet it was a chance—at least something to do.
He was now sitting with his back to the tiger, looking over his shoulder. Slowly, with his eyes fixed steadily on the killer, he began to turn about on the limb. It was a hazardous undertaking. Should he slip, lose his balance, fall, it might mean death. But this was a moment for hazards.
Swinging a leg over the limb, he sat sidewise for an instant; then with a second swing the thing was accomplished. Still the killer lingered. The tail was lashing furiously now, sending dry twigs flying downward.
Pant began sliding back upon the limb. With eyes still fixed upon the tiger, with heart beating like a throbbing motor, he moved back a foot, two feet, three, four. Still the tiger waited. His eyes, in the gathering darkness, had turned to red balls of fire.
Suddenly the boy’s hand went up. The machete was raised above his head. The great cat gave forth a blood-curdling snarl. But the big knife was not meant for him.
Once in his boyhood days on a farm Pant had climbed far out over the track that ran beneath the ridge of a tall hay-loft. He had gone out to adjust something that had gone wrong with the double harpoon fork. It would not trip. He had used every ounce of his strength climbing out there hand over hand. He had not dared attempt the trip back. The hay of the loft was twenty feet beneath him. There was a load on the fork. Choosing the least of three evils, he had taken the drop with the half-ton of hay when the fork was tripped. He would not soon forget that breath-taking drop, yet he had landed without a bump or bruise.
“This,” he told himself as calmly as he could, “will be exactly like that—maybe.”
He was now seated firmly on the great clump of “tree grass.” Some three feet across, this clump hung down a distance of two yards.
“Now,” he breathed, “Now!”
He said the last “now” out loud and at the same instant the machete came down upon the branch on which he sat.