when it sees them break through the trees, when it spies the puffs of smoke from atop the elephants and the harsh spouts of gravel at its feet, it knows, in whatever way a tiger can, that its only hope lies across the river, in the strange land beyond. And with that it roars and it leaps, a tiger falling, orange and black stripes plunging against the gray bands of rock. It vanishes with a splash just as the first team of shikaris reach the ledge; they fire shots into the rushing water far below, and they continue firing when the tiger finally emerges, soaked and scrambling, on the opposite
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