The wild shouts of the man had apparently drowned the sound of the
horse's feet upon the soft road, for the animal drew back half a
pace as it suddenly came into view.
The horse swerved at the sight, and reared high in the air as
Bathurst drove his spurs into it. As its feet touched the ground
again, Bathurst sprang off and rushed at the tiger, and brought
down the heavy lash of his whip with all his force across its head.
With a fierce snarl it sprang back two paces, but again and again
the whip descended upon it, and bewildered and amazed at the attack
it turned swiftly and sprang through the bushes.
Bathurst, knowing that there was no fear of its returning, turned
at once to the figure on the road. It was, as in even the momentary
glance he had noticed, a woman, or rather a girl of some fourteen
or fifteen years of age--the man had dropped on his knees beside
her, moaning and muttering incoherent words.
"I see no blood," Bathurst said, and stooping, lifted the light
figure. "Her heart beats, man; I think she has only fainted. The
tiger must have knocked her down in its spring without striking
her. So far as I can see she is unhurt."
He carried her to the horse, which stood trembling a few yards
away, took a flask from the holster, and poured a little brandy
and water between her lips.
Presently there was a faint sigh. "She is coming round," he said
to the man, who was still kneeling, looking on with vacant eyes,
as though he had neither heard nor comprehended what Bathurst was
doing.
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