The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1894-05-25

I believe the very fear that / should
succeed in giving him the whisky kept
him alive till the poison began to lose
its power. At all events he did not die.
Salad was as fond of hunting as I.
Many a time we two slipped away from
camp in the gray of early morning.
Once, just before daylight, I was out
with my shotgun in q thinly wooded
jungle a mile from camp upon the
shore of a small lake, waiting for birds.
1t wa just my luck Because / came
prepared for birds, there was not one in
sight, but three beautiful antelope came
down to drink within a hundred feet of
us. l looked at the shotgun in disgust.
Then looked again at the antelope. 1t
was ex~asperating. I was determined to
have a shot, at any rate, and In the hope
that I might stun one of them or at least
bewilder him for an instant. I whisper
ed to Salad to be ready with his knife
and make a dash the moment I fired.
Cautiously ! raised the gun to my
shoulder and was pressing the trigger,
when Salad touched me and whispered:
wait, San1D! LOOK Jnere!
I looked, and my shotgun fell. At a
slight angle, but little more than half
way between US and the antelope, there
crouched a royal Bengal tiger. A single
glance was sufficient. He was surely a
man eater. Evidently he had been on
the point Of satisfying his hunger with
an antelope when he caught sight of us.
He was within an easy leap Of the deer,
but was deliberately turning away and
facing us. The motion startled the deer,
and they bounded off, but the tiger paid
them no further attention. The huge
creature opened his great jaws till his
head seemed nothing but a red, yawn-
ing gullet bordered by long, ragged,
glistening teeth, and with a savage
snarl he began to approach us.
There was no need of looking about
for a place Of safety. The jungle was
sparsely wooded at the best, and the
largest tree we had passed in coming
from camp would not have borne even
Salads weight 10 feet from the
ground. Salad had only his hunting
knife, I nothing but my shotgun.
Zone Of us must go, sahib," Salad
muttered, without taking his eyes from
the tiger. eff we run together, we shall
both go. He will overtake US in a mo-
ment. Let Allah decide as it is written
in our foreheads Run that way for
your life, sahib. I will run this way.
Be quick, before he comes nearer!"
There was no time for thought. It
seemed a fair proposition, and ever as
he spoke the Hindoo started at the top
of his speed away. Tt was useless stand
ing still OF following him, and acting
upon his suggestion l started in the op-
posite direction.
After running a rod or two I looked
owe my shoulder The tiger had made
a leap and was just landing, already
crouched for another spring. He was
following me!
i will not admit that I hoped he
would follow Salad, but I did hope that
he would not choose me. It amounted
to the anne thing.
I started on for one more desperate
struggle. I was doomed. I knew it per-
fectly well, yet while there is life there
is hope, and I ran as I never ran be-
fore. l resolved to go as far as I could
and then whirl about and give the tiger
a charge of fine shot full in the face. 1t
might put out his eyes. There was at
least that possibility to hang a desperate
hope upon, and throwing my gun to my
shoulder I turned. The tiger was not
there! Looking farther back, I saw his
tawny hide in the underbrush. Instant
~ it rose. He was making q leap, but
it was not toward me. One thrill of
gratitude shot through my veins, when
my heart stood still with horror. There
was one sharp yelp as the huge form
swept through the air, and crushing the
leaves and branches as it fell landed up
IN the PROSTATE figure of Salad, silently
waiting for the blow.
I stood there petrifed, the cold per-
SEPARATION dripping from my forehead.
There al not a sound from Salad.
There was only one fierce howl from the
tiger; then all was still.
It was only an instant, but in that in
slant we two, my Hindoo servant and
!, stood out before me in very bold re-
lief. I had for my life, knowing
that the chances lay between us two and
hoping at least that the tiger might not
follow me. He had run, too, knowing
that the chance lay between us, and be-
the tiger did not follow him he
had come back again and tempted him
called him away from me and given
his life for mine.
He was a poor benighted heather
and only an average sample Of his kind.
He could not help stealing pretty
things. He could not stop telling lies.
But surely he was a truer, Drawer, no
bier man than !, and if the image of
God can be found today in any of his
creatures it would require no very deep
t~heologian to decide which Of us two
betrayed it least profaned .-Henry VIII
lard French in Romance.
The S~traightest Line.
The straightest thing in nature or art
is a ray of light when passing through
a rnoIi1ru IF 1piforr Iarc1fr Hop,a