"I believe it's ill,"said Louisa mebbin, loudly in Hindustani,for the benefit of the village headman, was in ambush in a neighbouring tree.
"Hush!" Said Mrs packletide, and at that moment the tiger comments ambling towards his victim.
" Now ,now!" Urged miss mebbin with some excitement;"if he does not touch the goat we need not pay for it".(The bait was an extra .)
The rifle flashed out with the loud report and the great twany beast sprang to one side and then rolled over in the stilless of death. In a moment a crowd of excited natives had swarmed on to the scene, and their shouting speedily carried the glad news to the village, where I thumping of tom-toms took up the chorus of triumph. And their triumph and rejoicing found a ready eco in the heart of mrs.packletide; already that luncheon -party in curzon Street seemed immeasurably nearer.
It was Louisa maybell who drew attention to the fact that the goat was in death- throes from a motor bullet- wound , why no trace of the rifles deadly work could be found on the tiger. Evident leader wrong animal had been hit, and the beast of prey had succumbed to heart failure, caused by the sudden report of the rifle, accelerated by senile decay .