THE SEVEN LEOPARDS Crouched in the palanquin Kathlyn waited for the onslaught of the leopards.

Once she heard a tremendous scratching at the rear of her hiding-place; the palanquin tottered.

But the animal was not trying to get inside; he was merely sharpening his claws after the manner of his kind, claws which were sharp enough, heaven knew, since, regularly, once a month the keepers filed them to needle-points.
An elephant trumpeted near by, and Kathlyn could have wept in despair.
Outside the wall were friends, doubtless by this time joined by her father and Ramabai, and all wondering where she was.

She dared not call out for fear of attracting the leopards, whose movements she could hear constantly: the jar of their padded feet as they trotted under and about the palanquin, the sniff-sniff of their wet noses, an occasional yawning.
By and by her curiosity could not be withstood, even though she might be courting death.

Cautiously and soundlessly she moved the curtain which faced the wall.