With one forepaw he
grasped the howdah, with the other clung to the elephant's shoulder,
an inch or two only behind the leg of the mahout.
Charlie snatched the rifle from Tim's hand, and thrust the muzzle into
the tiger's mouth, just as the elephant swerved round with sudden
fright and pain. At the same moment the weight of the tiger on the
howdah caused the girths to give way; and Charlie, Tim and the tiger
fell together on the ground. Charlie had pulled his trigger, just as
he felt himself going; and at the same moment he heard the crack of
Ramajee Punt's rifle.
The instant they touched the ground, Tim and Charlie cast themselves
over and over, two or three times; and then leaped to their feet,
Charlie grasping his rifle, to make the best defence he could if the
tiger sprang upon him. The creature lay, however, immovable.
"It is dead, Tim," Charlie exclaimed. "You needn't be afraid."
"And no wonder, yer honor, when I pitched, head first, smack onto his
stomach. It would have killed a horse."
"It might have done, Tim, but I don't think it would have killed a
tiger. Look there."
Charlie's gun had gone off at the moment when the howdah turned round,
and had nearly blown off a portion of the tiger's head; while, almost
at the same instant, the ball of Ramajee Punt had struck it in the
back, breaking the spine.
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