CHAPTER III
On the day fixed Frank and Gilbert rode to Mr. Macgregor's place in the cool of the evening, arriving in time for dinner. The tiger hunt had been arranged for the following morning; there was known to be an almost impenetrable covert of vines and creepers in the thickest part of the jungle, and several natives affirmed that it was the lair of a tiger of unusual size and ferocity. He had been very destructive and had done considerable mischief in the neighbouring villages, so that the killing of him excited much interest.
Mr. Macgregor had invited two or three other gentlemen, planters like himself, to join the party; thus making up half-a-dozen Englishmen with breech-loaders and pistols; a dozen natives were told off to accompany them, so that it was a fairly large party.
The following morning when they started, Frank Lindsay and Mr. Macgregor rode foremost, a syce running before them. By degrees they found themselves some distance in advance of their party, and wishing to keep together, Mr. Macgregor rode back to tell the others to hurry up; thus Frank and the syce were, so to speak, isolated. At that very moment a tiger sprang upon the syce. Frank instantaneously flung himself off his horse and struck the animal across the loins with the butt of his heavy riding-whip. Dropping his prey, the tiger turned on his assailant, seized him by the thigh and hurled him to the ground. Instinctively Frank threw his arms round the head of the enraged animal, but in a second he would have been torn to pieces, had not a man leaped out of the jungle and fired at the tiger, who once more dropped his prey and retreated with an ominous growl into the thick jungle.
"In a second he would have torn Lindsay to pieces."
The man who did this deed of daring courage stood for a second over Frank and just asked—
"Are you all right, sahib?" to which Frank answered, "I'm alive, but desperately hurt, I'm afraid."
Then his rescuer drew himself up, waved his hand, and threw himself back into the thick jungle. Frank was quickly surrounded by his friends; he was in great agony, his leg was fearfully mauled and was bleeding profusely. The syce he had risked his life to save was dead. Macgregor, with the help of his friends, did his utmost to stop the bleeding, and ordered some of the natives to make a sort of stretcher with the branches of the trees; others he sent back to the bungalow to warn Vansie, and to get a doctor.