“No, I vill do it all by mineself—­or die!  I vill vant a shofel or a spade of some sort.”

The chief provided the required implement, conducted his visitor a little before sunset to the spot, just outside the village, and left him there armed with his rifle, a revolver, and a long knife or kriss, besides the spade.

When alone, the bold man put off his glasses, made a careful inspection of the ground, came to a conclusion—­founded on scientific data no doubt—­as to the probable spot whence the tiger would issue from the jungle when about to seize the goat, and, just opposite that spot, on the face of a slope about ten yards from the goat, he dug a hole deep enough to contain his own person.  The soil was sandy easy to dig, and quite dry.  It was growing dusk when the professor crept into this rifle-pit, drew his weapons and the spade in after him, and closed the mouth of the pit with moist earth, leaving only a very small eye-hole through which he could see the goat standing innocently by the brink of the pool.

“Now,” said he, as he lay resting on his elbows with the rifle laid ready to hand and the revolver beside it; “now, I know not vezer you can smell or not, but I have buried mineself in eart’, vich is a non-conductor of smell.  Ve shall see!”

It soon became very dark, for there was no moon, yet not so dark but that the form of the goat could be seen distinctly reflected in the pond.  Naturally the professor’s mind reverted to the occasion when Nigel had watched in the branches of a tree for another tiger.  The conditions were different, and so, he thought, was the man!

“Mine yoong frond,” he said mentally, “is brav’, oondoubtedly, but his nerves have not been braced by experience like mine.  It is vell, for zere is more dancher here zan in a tree.  It matters not.  I am resolf to shot zat tigre—­or die!”

In this resolute and heroic frame of mind he commenced his vigil.

It is curious to note how frequently the calculations of men fail them—­even those of scientific men!  The tiger came indeed to the spot, but he came in precisely the opposite direction from that which the watcher expected, so that while Verkimier was staring over the goat’s head at an opening in the jungle beyond the pond, the tiger was advancing stealthily and slowly through the bushes exactly behind the hole in which he lay.

Suddenly the professor became aware of something!  He saw nothing consciously, he heard nothing, but there stole over him, somehow, the feeling of a dread presence!

Was he asleep?  Was it nightmare?  No, it was night-tiger!  He knew it, somehow; he felt it—­but he could not see it.

To face death is easy enough—­according to some people—­but to face nothing at all is at all times trying.  Verkimier felt it to be so at that moment.  But he was a true hero and conquered himself.

“Come now,” he said mentally, “don’t be an ass!  Don’t lose your shance by voomanly fears.  Keep kviet.”