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hoarse, strained voice, to his little daughter, who nestled quaking against his breast. "In a space He will be gone. Even He of the Hairy Face will do us no hurt while we sit within the house."

Che' Sĕman spoke with his judgment supported by the experience of many generations of Malays; but he knew not the nature of the strange animal with which he was now confronted. Once more the moan-like howl set the still air vibrating, but this time its note had changed, and gradually it quickened to the ferocious, snarling roar, which is the charge-song of the tiger, as the beast rushed at the house and flung itself against the bamboo wall with a heavy, jarring thud. A shriek from all the seven distraught wretches within went up on the instant; and then came a scratching, tearing sound, followed by a soft flop, as the tiger, failing to effect a landing on the low roof, fell back to earth. The men leaped to their feet, clutching their weapons convulsively, bewildered by fear and by the darkness; and led by Che' Sĕman, They raised above the wailing of the women, al quavering, half-hearted sôrak—the Malayan war-cry, which is designed as much to put courage into those who utter it, as to dismay the enemy whom it defies.

Mat, the man who had upset the torch, alone failed to add his voice to the lamentable outcry of his fellows. Seeking to hide himself from the raging brute without, he crept, unobserved by the others, up into the shelflike loft, in which Mînah had been wont to sit, when strangers were about, during the