her whiskers twitching, and her keen eyes fierce and defiant.

Just outside the lair Tera could see a group of natives banging,
screaming, yelling and beating pans, accompanied by a horrible
drumming sound which nearly deafened her. The cubs, frightened and
bewildered, crouched round their mother and nestled closely to her.

Had it not been for her cubs, Tera would have gone out in spite of
all, for the noise was terrifying and bewildering, and she scarcely
knew where she was or what she was doing. But she had her little ones
to think of, and, at that moment, would rather have died than have
left them.

Her fur bristled up with rage, and she prepared to fight to the death.
She knew exactly what was happening; knew perfectly well that the
cruel hunters were behind the beaters, and that they were only waiting
for her to come out so that they could use those horrible things full
of fire.

And so, fortunately for her, she stayed where she was, and thus not
only saved her own life, but probably the lives of her little ones.

The beaters, concluding there were no tigers about, moved off, and, as
soon as their voices died away in the distance, Tera--after caressing
her cubs--lay down and gave them their morning meal, keeping a sharp
lookout, meanwhile, with uplifted head, nervous ears, and eyes that
gleamed like amber.

Meanwhile, Tranta, who had found a particularly nice _korinda_ bush,
and crept into it, considered himself safe. He knew the beaters were