Page 163 - A Little Bush Maid

"How’s the tamer?" queried Norah, sitting up.

"Getting on all right. He wants to see you."

"Me!" said Norah. "Whatever for?"

"We’ve got to find that out," said her father, withdrawing.

They found out after breakfast, when a grateful, white-faced man, swathed

in bandages, stammered broken thanks.

"For it was you callin’ out that saved me first," he said. "T’d never ’a thought

to jump, but T heard you sing out to me, an’ if T hadn’t she’d a broke my
neck, sure. An’ then it was you thought o’ bringing in the cubs. Well, missy,

T won’t forget you long’s T live."

The nurse, at his nod, brought out the skin of a young tiger, beautifully

marked and made into a rug.

"Tf you wouldn’t mind takin’ that from me," explained the tamer. "T’d like to
feel you had it, an’ T’d like to shake hands with you, missy."

Outside the room Norah turned a flushed face to her father.

"Do let’s go home, Daddy," she begged. "Cunjee’s too embarrassing for
me!"