The woodwork gave way like paper, and the tiger burst through.

A shout of dismay arose from the multitude, but high above this sounded the screams of the women.
"Quick, Surajah!" Dick cried, and, drawing his keen dagger, he cut through the network and dashed through, followed by his companion.
"Stand here," he cried, as they arrived below the balcony.

"Steady! Put your hands against the wall." Then he sprang on to Surajah's back, and thence to his shoulder.
Drawing his pistols, he put one between his teeth, grasping the other in his right hand.
"Steady, Surajah," he said.

"I am going to stand on your head." He stepped on to his companion's turban, put his left arm on the balcony, and raised himself by it, until his arms were above its level.

The tiger was standing with its paw upon a prostrate figure, growling savagely, but evidently confused and somewhat dismayed at the piercing screams from the women, most of whom had thrown themselves down on the cushions of the divan.
Dick stretched his right hand forward, took a steady aim, and fired.