Suddenly he flung both shutters wide open, and let in the flood of sunshine, which rendered useless the lamp on the table.

There was the tiger, no more than a dozen feet distant.  The slight noise caused him to stop abruptly and turn his head while walking away.

The sight of the lad seemed to whet his fury.  He lashed his tail, growled, and, swinging himself lightly round, cautiously approached the daring youngster, as if not quite satisfied with the look of things.

Jim leaned farther through the window, and swung his torch round and round, extending it at the same time toward the beast, which paused a few steps off, as if to gather himself for the spring.

The lad felt the need of vigor.  He whirled the torch harder, and reached farther, shouting,—­

“Get out, or I’ll burn your head off!  Come any nearer if you dare!”—­

At this moment Jim, in his enthusiasm, leaned a trifle too far.  His feet slipped over the floor, and he sprawled headfirst out of the window.

Chapter IV.

Jim Travers felt that he was lost.  The women uttered cries of anguish, clasped their hands, and almost fainted.

Sometimes, however, a person instinctively does the best thing possible, when, if he took time for thought, he would do the worst.

The antipathy of wild beasts to fire is well known, but it must be remembered that the full degree of this terror is felt only during the darkness of night.  The sun was in the horizon when the stirring events we have set out to narrate were going on.

When Jim came tumbling through the window, he held fast to the blazing torch, even while trying to save himself from falling.  His dexterity enabled him to keep fair command of his limbs, and he bounded to his feet in a twinkling, at the moment when he expected Tippo Sahib to come down upon him like a clawing avalanche.

Then, instead of turning about and clambering back through the window (the surest means of inviting the attack of the beast), he uttered a shout, and, holding the torch in front, ran straight at the tiger!

It may be doubted whether the fiercest of wild creatures would have withstood such an assault.  Even though the sun was shining, the tiger knew something of the meaning of that glowing brand.  Wheeling about like a cat, he trotted off, turning his head from side to side, and frequently glancing at his pursuer.

His flight brought him into the field of vision of Tom Gordon up-stairs, who had been mystified to understand what was going on below.

“I’ll finish him this time,” was his conclusion, as he flung up the window, thrust the barrel of the weapon through, and dropped on one knee.

But it seemed as if fate held that particular royal Bengal tiger in its special keeping that day.  Before Tom could make his aim certain, Jim Travers popped in front, so in line with the beast that the young marksman could not fire at one without risk of hitting the other.