Simultaneously a ball from the other rifle struck his side.

We fired so closely together that neither of us heard the report of the other's weapon.

The tiger gave a roar of agony, and despite the wounds he received, either of which would have been fatal, he completed his spring so nearly that he caught me by the foot and inflicted a wound that lamed me for several months, and left permanent scars.
The natives, hearing the report of our rifles, came to our assistance, and so great was their reverence for the tiger, that they prostrated themselves before his quivering body, and muttered some words which I could not understand.
Though assured that the beast was dead, they hesitated to enter the thicket to search for the body of their companion, and it was only on my leading the way that they entered it.
We found the remains of the poor native somewhat mutilated, though less so than I expected.

There was no trace of suffering upon his features, and I was confirmed in my theory that he fainted the moment he was seized, and was not conscious afterward.

His friends insisted upon burying the body where they found it, and said it was their custom to do so.