There, almost within reach of him, with the blood running over its face from a scalp-wound, and its fore-paws tearing the moss from a tree, was the leopard; and, swift as thought, Compton fired from his hip at the shoulder.

The leopard rolled over, growling, then tried to drag itself by its powerful paws towards Compton, its mouth wide open.

He fired again, into the gaping jaws, the muscles relaxed, the beast fell, and he ran towards Venning.
"Are you all right, old chap ?" Venning held on to his friend's arm, and as they stood, the leopard screamed.
"He is quite done, old fellow.

Come and see." Venning went forward quietly, as if still in a daze, and they looked down on the leopard, struggling in the death-throes.

It raised its torn head, and again the scream rang out from its red jaws--a terrible cry, and out of the forest came the answer, shrill and fearsome.