This was told me in 1908 by Mr Thomson, who as District Magistrate had
held an inquest at the time upon the tragedy; and his recollections
have been verified and supplemented by Mr Webb, the present District
Magistrate. The depositions have, in ordinary course, been destroyed;
but the details that are still recoverable seem to be sufficient.
The time was 1900, and the scene was Zwettaw village, Thongwa
township, not far from Rangoon. The old headman, U Myat Thin,
described in confidential official registers which he never saw as "an
easy-going old Talaing" or native of Lower Burma, was sauntering
outside the village about midday, watching his grandchildren, who were
playing near him. Suddenly a tiger appeared and seized and carried
away his grand-daughter. That kind of thing is done with the speed of
thought; and Hercules himself, in the old man's place, could not have
prevented the tiger getting the child. Probably Hercules himself, if
unarmed, would have done no more than the old man did, namely, run
into the village and shout for help.
But who was to help? Every man and woman fit for work was away in the
fields. Only the old people and children were in the village. He took
a spear from his house, and three other old men like himself did
likewise. The four of them followed the tiger at once, and tracked and
ran with such goodwill that they overtook him, though they were too
late to save the child.
One of the finest traits of character which I have noticed in Burmese
villagers is their readiness to fight to recover from a wild beast the
body of any person it has killed. Let a European try to take a bone
from a bulldog and he may be able to guess, faintly and distantly, at
what these four old men were undertaking when they closed with a
famishing tiger, to fight him for his freshly-killed food. They had no
firearms, no missiles of any kind, not even bows and arrows. They had
nothing to rely on but each other, as, with one spirit, they attacked
him, thrusting at his vitals with their spears. The fight was too
unequal. He killed one of them, and with a stroke of his paw he broke
the shoulder of the grandfather, and so escaped away.
The news was sent to the men in the fields, and as soon as possible a
new party took up the trail, including policemen with guns. They had
not far to go. In the next field they found the tiger--dead. He had
been gored to death by a herd of buffaloes that had been peacefully
grazing there when he came among them. If he had not been wounded they
would probably not have attacked him, or he would not have lingered
long enough to give them a chance. So the old men had not fought in
vain.
A herdsman of experience has said to me: "If the tiger was bleeding,
the sight of his blood would make the buffaloes charge him." That
coincides with a red rag irritating a bull in England; but another
herdsman said it was the smell, and several thought the wound made no
difference. "A buffalo will not stand to be eaten by a tiger, but at
sight of one stampedes, either at him or away from him." Very likely,
indeed.
"I think the grandfather recovered," continued Mr Thomson. "I know I
recommended a good reward and that it was paid." It appears from the
official registers that he was quite well before the end of the year.
On 12th December 1900 the Assistant Commissioner felt bound to note,
as a matter of business: "The daily pilgrimage to the local Kyaung (a
Buddhist monastery) is the end of his existence now, I think." Why
not? In the heroic days of Greece a time of prayer was deemed the
fittest ending to a well-spent life.
It was not till 29th June 1908 that the registers tell of him what has
some day to be told of us all--"Deceased. For successor see ..."
So far as can be discovered, the brave old man paid no heed whatever
to the rewards, or to what was thought about him. It was right to
honour such gallantry in every possible way; but the deed was one no
money could have purchased, and the story is one I like to tell
whenever I hear anybody who knows no better talking of the "cowardice
of the Burmans."