A stifled groan
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Apenas o tigre moribundo sentiu o odor da carniça, e o sabor do sangue que filtrando entre as presas caíra na boca, fez uma contorção violenta, e quis soltar um urro que apenas exalou-se num gemido surdo e abafado.
Scarcely had the dying tiger smelled the carrion, and the taste of blood that, filtering through its fangs, had fallen into its mouth, than it made a violent contortion and tried to loose a roar — which only escaped as a dull, smothered groan.
Scarcely had the dying tiger smelled the carrion and tasted the blood filtering through its fangs into its mouth than it made a violent contortion, and tried to loose a roar that only escaped as a dull, smothered groan.
Bound-jawed, the great voice of the forest is reduced to a muffled groan. The blood rouses its instinct one last time, only to prove how total the captivity is.
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