Part 3 (1/2)
”It is India,” said Skag.
Every little while through the dragging hours, Cadman would laugh softly; and if there had been silence for long, the warning snarl would come back. The breath of it shook the air and the thresh of the tail kept the dust astir in the pit.
”There is only one more thing I can think of,” Cadman said at last.
The waning moon was now in meridian and blent with daylight. The beast was still crouched against the wall.
”Yes?” said Skag.
”That you should walk over and stroke his head.”
”Oh, no, he is cornered. He would fight.”
”There's really a kind of law about all this--?”
”Very much a law.”
After an interval Cadman breathed: ”I like it. Oh, yes,” he added wearily, ”I like it all.”
It was soon after that they heard the voices of natives and a face, looking grey in the dawn, peered down. Cadman spoke in a language the native understood:
”Look in the tea-pot and toss down my cigarettes--”
At this instant the tiger protested a second time. The native vanished with the squeak of a fat puppy that falls off a chair on its back. For moments afterward, they heard him calling and telling others the tale of all his born days. Three quarters of an hour elapsed before the long pole, thick as a man's arm, was carefully lowered. Skag guided the b.u.t.t to the base of the pit, and fixed it there as far as possible from the tiger. This was delicate. His every movement was maddeningly deliberate, the danger, of course, being to put the tiger into a fighting panic.
”Now you climb,” Skag said.
”No--”
”It is better so. I am old at these things. He will not leap at you while I am here--”
”You mean he might leap, as you start to s.h.i.+n up the pole--alone?”
”No, that will be the second time. It will not infuriate him--the second one to climb.”
”I'll gamble with you--who goes first.”
”You said that you were taking orders,” Skag said coldly.
”That's a fact. But this isn't to my relish, son--”
”We do not need more words.”
Cadman Sahib had reached safety. The natives were around him, feeling his arms and limbs, stuttering questions. He bade them be silent, caught up his rifle and covered the tiger, while Skag made the tilted pole, beckoning the rifle back.
”It's been a hard night for him,” he said.
The two men stood together in the morning light. Cadman's face was deeply shaded by the big helmet again, but his eyes bored into the young one's as he offered his cigarette-case. Skag took one, lit it carelessly. Cadman was watching his hands.