Another moment and there was a very slight sound right over his head.  He glanced upwards—­as far as the little hole would permit—­and there, not a foot from him, was a tawny yellow throat! with a tremendous paw moving slowly forward—­so slowly that it might have suggested the imperceptible movement of the hour-hand of a watch, or of a glacier.  There was indeed motion, but it was not perceptible.

The professor’s perceptions were quick.  He did not require to think.  He knew that to use the rifle at such close quarters was absolutely impossible.  He knew that the slightest motion would betray him.  He could see that as yet he was undiscovered, for the animal’s nose was straight for the goat, and he concluded that either his having buried himself was a safeguard against being smelt, or that the tiger had a cold in its head.  He thought for one moment of bursting up with a yell that would scare the monster out of his seven senses—­if he had seven—­but dismissed the thought as cowardly, for it would be sacrificing success to safety.  He knew not what to do, and the cold perspiration consequent upon indecision at a supreme moment broke out all over him.  Suddenly he thought of the revolver!

Like lightning he seized it, pointed it straight up and fired.  The bullet—­a large army revolver one—­entered the throat of the animal, pierced the root of the tongue, crashed through the palate obliquely, and entered the brain.  The tiger threw one indescribable somersault and fell—­fell so promptly that it blocked the mouth of the pit, all the covering earth of which had been blown away by the shot, and Verkimier could feel the hairy side of the creature, and hear the beating of its heart as it gasped its life away.  But in his cramped position he could not push it aside.  Well aware of the tenacity of life in tigers, he thought that if the creature revived it would certainly grasp him even in its dying agonies, for the weight of its body and its struggles were already crushing in the upper part of the hole.

To put an end to its sufferings and his own danger, he pointed the revolver at its side and again fired.  The crash in the confined hole was tremendous—­so awful that the professor thought the weapon must have burst.  The struggles of the, tiger became more violent than ever, and its weight more oppressive as the earth crumbled away.  Again the cold perspiration broke out all over the man, and he became unconscious.

It must not be supposed that the professor’s friends were unwatchful.  Although they had promised not to disturb him in his operations, they had held themselves in readiness with rifle, revolver, and spear, and the instant the first shot was heard, they ran down to the scene of action.  Before reaching it the second shot quickened their pace as they ran down to the pond—­a number of natives yelling and waving torches at their heels.

“Here he is,” cried Moses, who was first on the scene, “dead as mutton!”