The native held on, moving more and more rapidly as he found himself following a single track.

I shouted to him--to Ghyrkins--to everybody, but they could not make the doomed man understand what I saw--the freshly slain head of the tiger's last victim.

There was little doubt that the king himself was near by--probably in that suspicious-looking bit of green jungle, slimy green too, as green is, that grows in sticky chocolate-coloured mud.

The young fellow was courageous, and ignorant of the immediate danger, and, above all, he was on the look out for bucksheesh.

He reached the reeds and unclean vegetables that grew thick and foul together in the little patch.