Nat the Naturalist | Page 5

was all intensely real to me; and in those moments I was as full of excitement as if I had been in some distant land and in peril of my life.
Then, after long and careful aim, twang went the bow, and to my intense delight the soft-headed arrow struck the monster full in the flank, making it bound up a couple of feet and then pounce upon the bolt, and canter off at full speed towards a dense thicket of scarlet-runners.
"Victory, victory!" I cried excitedly; "wounded, wounded!" and I set off in chase, but approaching cautiously and preparing my bow again, for I had read that the tiger was most dangerous when in the throes of death.
I forget what I called the scarlet-runner thicket, but by some eastern name, and drawing nearer I found an opportunity for another shot, which missed.
Away bounded Buzzy, evidently enjoying the fun, and I after him, to find him at bay beneath a currant bush.
I was a dozen yards away in the central path, and, of course, in full view of the upper windows of the house; but if I had noted that fact then, I was so far gone in the romance of the situation that I daresay I should have called the house the rajah's palace. As it was I had forgotten its very existence in the excitement of the chase.
"This time, monster, thou shalt die," I cried, as I once more fired, making Buzzy leap into the path, and then out of sight amongst the cabbages.
"Hurray! hurray!" I shouted, waving my crossbow above my head, "the monster is slain! the monster is slain!"
There was a piercing shriek behind me, and I turned, bow in hand, to find myself face to face with my aunt.
CHAPTER THREE.
HOW I HUNTED THE LION IN NO-MAN'S-LAND AND WHAT FOLLOWED.
My aunt's cry brought out Uncle Joseph in a terrible state of excitement, and it was not until after a long chase and Buzzy was caught that she could be made to believe that he had not received a mortal wound. And a tremendous chase it was, for the more Uncle Joseph and I tried to circumvent that cat, the more he threw himself into the fun of the hunt and dodged us, running up trees like a squirrel, leaping down with his tail swollen to four times its usual size, and going over the beds in graceful bounds, till Uncle Joseph sat down to pant and wipe his face while I continued the chase; but all in vain. Sometimes I nearly caught the cat, but he would be off again just as I made a spring to seize him, while all Aunt Sophia's tender appeals to "poor Buzzy then," "my poor pet then," fell upon ears that refused to hear her.
"Oh how stupid I am!" I said to myself. "Oh, Buzzy, this is too bad to give me such a chase. Come here, sir, directly;" and I stooped down.
It had the required result, for Buzzy leaped down off the wall up which he had scrambled, jumped on to my back, settled himself comfortably with his fore-paws on my shoulder, and began to purr with satisfaction.
"I am glad, my boy," said Uncle Joseph, "so glad you have caught him; but have you hurt him much?"
"He isn't hurt at all, uncle," I said. "It was all in play."
"But your aunt is in agony, my boy. Here, let me take the cat to her."
He stretched out his hands to take the cat from my shoulder, but Buzzy's eyes dilated and he began to swear, making my uncle start back, for he dreaded a scratch from anything but a rose thorn, and those he did not mind.
"Would you mind taking him to your aunt, Natty, my boy?" he said.
"No, uncle, if you'll please come too," I said. "Don't let aunt scold me, uncle; I'm very sorry, and it was only play."
"I'll come with you, Nat," he said, shaking his head; "but I ought not to have let you have that bow, and I'm afraid she will want it burnt."
"Will she be very cross?" I said.
"I'm afraid so, my boy." And she really was.
"Oh you wicked, wicked boy," she cried as I came up; "what were you doing?"
"Only playing at tiger-hunting, aunt," I said.
"With my poor darling Buzzy! Come to its own mistress then, Buzzy," she cried pityingly. "Did the wicked, cruel boy--oh dear!"
Wur-r-ur! spit, spit!
That was Buzzy's reply to his mistress's attempt to take him from my shoulder, and he made an attempt to scratch.
"And he used to be as gentle as a lamb," cried my aunt. "You wicked, wicked boy, you must have hurt my darling terribly to make him so angry with his mistress whom he loves."
I protested that I had not, but it was of no use, and I