THE TIGER HUNT
I have told you that Kari was not a hunting elephant. After that
experience in the jungle, however, he seemed to be above all fear
and surprise. On many occasions he showed such dignity and
composure that one could not recognize in him the old, nervous
beast. Apparently that battle with the wild elephant gave him
such confidence in his own strength that from that time on no
incident could surprise him.
You do not know what music can do for animals. If you took a
flute and played certain tunes on it, all of the snakes would
come out of their holes and dance to the music! There is supposed
to be a kind of flower, like a sensitive plant, that can be put
to sleep by the playing of a very delicate tune. I have seen
with my own eyes how fond the deer are of music. Sometimes in the
middle of the afternoon, if you stand on the edge of the forest
and play your flute and slowly strike the notes which sound like
the whistling call of the antelope, you will see a strange
phenomenon. The deer generally bark, but they also give a
whistling call.
[Illustration: IF YOU TOOK A FLUTE AND PLAYED CERTAIN TUNES ON
IT, ALL OF THE SNAKES WOULD COME OUT OF THEIR HOLES AND DANCE TO
THE MUSIC]
As I was playing my flute one afternoon, I remember distinctly
that nothing happened for a while. I stopped and tried another
tune. I heard a strange rustle in the leaves of the small plants
of the jungle; but nothing came of it. Again I changed my tune
and played on. This time even the leaves did not move, so I was
sure my flute was not catching the ear of any animal. I was
heart-broken. I had gone to test my knowledge of flute-playing,
but I found out that I could not attract any animal.
It was getting late; the darkness of the jungle became thicker
and thicker, though the April sun was still scorching the open
meadow. At last in desperation, I tried my only remaining
tune, not being very proficient on the flute. For a while nothing
happened. I played so intently that I paid attention to nothing
else and was greatly startled to hear a noise as if someone were
pulling on a rope. I looked up and there was a stag whose
nostrils were quivering with excitement as if he scented the
music. His beautiful forked horns were caught up in a creeper
hanging from a tree, from which he was trying to free himself. I
kept on playing, but did not take my eyes from him. At last he
freed himself from the vine, but a tendril still clung to his
horns like a crown of green. He came nearer and stood still.
I kept on playing, and one by one more golden faces began to come
out from behind the foliage of the jungle. The spotted fawn, the
musk-deer, gazelles and antelopes, all seemed to answer the call
of the music. I stopped playing. That instant a shiver went
through the herd; the stag stamped his foot on the ground and as
swiftly as the waving of a blade of grass in the breeze they all
disappeared in the forest. I could feel in the distance the
shiver of the undergrowth of grass and saplings indicating the
way the animals had passed.
Knowing this power of music over animals, I wanted to train Kari
and Kopee to follow the tunes of my flute. Kopee was such a
monkey that I could not make him listen. Whenever I began to play
the flute, he would go to sleep or run up a tree. Monkeys have no
brains.
Kari, on the contrary, though much worse at first, was more
sensible. He paid no attention to any tune that I played, but
once in a while, I would strike a note that would make him stop
still and listen, and I could tell by his manner that this tune
went home. Those long fanning ears of his would stop waving and
the restless trunk would be still for a moment. Unfortunately,
the notes that really reached his soul were very few--I could
hardly sustain them for more than a minute and a half. Weeks
passed before I could get them back again.
One day after the battle with the wild elephant in the jungle, I
took up the flute again and began to play for him. I tried many
notes and chords. At last I could sustain the tones he liked for
more than three minutes. By the end of August, I could make Kari
listen to my music for ten minutes at a time. When another winter
had passed and summer came again, I could really command him with
my music. I could sit on his back, almost on his neck, and play
the flute, never saying a word, and guide him for days and days.
This summer a very daring tiger visited our village. His head
looked like a tower and his body was as large as that of an ox.
At first he came in the night and killed oxen or buffaloes, but
one night he killed a man, and after that he never killed
anything but men, for the tiger is as fond of human meat as we
are of chicken.
Our house was very near the jungle; all our windows were barred
with iron. Nothing could go in or out through them except
mosquitoes or flies. One evening I was sitting at my window at
about eight o'clock. I heard the cry of the Fayu, the fox which
goes ahead of the tiger, giving the warning call to all the other
animals. Then, as the darkness that night was not very intense, I
could see the fox go by. Soon I could actually inhale the odor of
a tiger.
In a few moments an enormous black creature came and stood in
front of the window. As he sat down, the call of the fox in the
distance stopped. After a while the tiger stood up and walked
toward the window. That instant, the fox in the distance began to
call. I was very frightened, but as I wanted to see the tiger
clearly, I lit a match. He was so frightened by the sight of fire
that with one growl he bounded off.
After that the tiger took to coming early in the afternoons. One
day about four o'clock, we saw him standing on a rock across the
river, looking at the village. The river was very shallow,
hardly five inches deep, but it was very broad and full of sand
bars. He stood looking at the village and growling with great
joy. In India the government does not allow the people to carry
rifles of any sort, so whenever a tiger or a leopard makes a
nuisance of himself around the village you generally have to send
for a British official to come and kill him. Word was sent to the
magistrate of our district. In a few days a chubby-faced
Englishman appeared. In the Indian sun the red face of the
Westerner looks even redder.
There are certain rules by which men hunt in India. You never
shoot an animal weaker than yourself, and if you want to shoot a
tiger or a leopard, you give it a warning. If you do not do so,
you generally pay for it. After the British official appeared, I
was allowed to take him on my elephant and go out in the open to
show him that Kari was fit for hunting. He fired a number of
shots and killed several birds. Kari, who had never heard a shot
before, and whom everyone expected to be frightened, did not pay
the slightest attention to all the clamor of flying bullets. He
knew at heart he was the master of the jungle, and hence nothing
could surprise him. It is said in India that the mark of a
gentleman is that he is never surprised. That shows that Kari's
ancestors were undoubtedly very gentle elephants.
After killing some more birds, the magistrate became quite
convinced that Kari would do for the hunt, so one morning about
four o'clock we started out. I sat almost on the neck of my
elephant playing my flute, and the magistrate sat in the _howdah_
which had been especially prepared for him, since he was not
accustomed to riding elephants any other way. We crossed the
river and went far into the jungle. Beaters had gone ahead in
large groups to stir up the jungle from all directions. It was
very difficult to go through the jungle with the _howdah_ on the
elephant's back, and we had to edge our way along between
branches and trees.
After riding for at least two hours, we came to an open space and
it was agreed that the beaters should drive all the animals to
this clearing. This morning the sunrise was full of noise and
without any of the soft and delicate silences which usually mark
day-break in the jungle. I felt quite out of humor and apparently
Kari was bored to death. He kept on pulling at one twig after
another with his trunk, nibbling and wasting everything. Our
passenger did not know any language but English, and as I knew
nothing of English at that time, we spoke very little and only by
signs.
The first animals to come before us were a herd of antelopes
which dashed towards us like burnt gold flashing through emerald
water. After they had passed, a lull fell on the scene, which was
soon broken by the grunt and snort of a rhinoceros. He rushed
forward in a straight line, as usual, breaking and tearing
everything. Kari averted his gaze because elephants are always
irritated by the ostentatious bustle of a rhinoceros. Then, soon
after him we saw a horned boar rushing like a black javelin
through the air, followed by many animals, weasels and wild cats,
and once in a while a cheetah with its spotted skin. They refused
to come out in the open, however, but always went behind the
screen of foliage and grass, for they had smelled the danger
signal, man and elephant.
Every little while we heard a passionate and angry growl. When
this sound reached our ears, the magistrate would sit up with his
rifle to take aim. Then there would be a lull. Now we could hear
the cry of the beaters in the distance coming nearer and nearer.
Suddenly a herd of elephants passed. They made no noise and left
no trace, but passed by like walking cathedrals.
Again the angry growl fell on the jungle, but this time it was
ahead of us. The beaters cried out again close by, but all were
silenced by the roar of the approaching tiger. With one bound he
appeared in the clearing, but immediately disappeared again. We
could see him passing from one bush to another; and when he
stopped we caught a glimpse of his hind legs. Without any warning
the magistrate fired and like a thunder bolt, the tiger leaped in
front of the elephant with one roar. Kari reared; he walked
backwards and stood with his back against a tree. The magistrate
could not shoot at the tiger without sending a bullet through my
head, so he had to wait.
Then with a leap the tiger was by the side of the elephant, so
close to the _howdah_ that there was not the distance of even a
rifle between him and the magistrate. I stopped my flute playing
to swear at the magistrate. I said, "You brother of a pig; why
did you not give him warning before you shot? Who has ever heard
of killing an animal without seeing him face to face? Can you
kill a tiger by breaking his hind leg with a bullet?"
The man was livid with terror. He had the rifle in his hand but
the tiger was reaching over the _howdah_ and stretching out his
paw to get him. He did not know what to do. Kari shook himself
with all his strength but he could not shake the tiger off. He
trumpeted in great pain because the tiger's claws were cutting
into his flesh. He raised his trunk, swayed his body and bounded
against a tree behind him; but still the tiger could not be
shaken off. The nearer the tiger's paw came, the more the
magistrate tried to lean against the side of the _howdah_. Pretty
soon he moved towards the elephant's rear, and thus reached a
corner of the _howdah_ which gave him almost as much space as the
length of a rifle. I saw the eye of the tiger turn first red and
then yellow, and heard the terrible snarl which he gives only
when he is sure of his prey. The quality of the snarl is such
that it paralyzes his victim.
[Illustration: WITHOUT ANY WARNING THE MAGISTRATE FIRED]
Seeing that the Englishman could do nothing and feeling sure that
he would be killed, I knew I had to do something. I stopped
swearing and with one terrible yell gave the elephant the master
call. He went forward and put his trunk around a very thick
branch of a tree and pulled it down with a great crash. That
instant the tiger looked at the direction from which the noise
had come. His head was near me now, and he did not know whether
to attack me or go back to his former prey. It seemed as if hours
passed. I was petrified with terror, yet I knew that if I let my
fright get possession of me, I would be killed. So I controlled
myself. Kari was now trying to strike the tiger with this trunk,
but he could not get at him.
Suddenly I realized that the Englishman not only had the rifle's
length between him and the tiger but was raising the rifle to
take aim. Knowing this, I took my flute and hit the tiger's
knuckles with it. He came toward me with his paw outstretched and
caught the shawl which was loosely tied around my waist. I was
glad to hear it tear because he had just missed my flesh. That
instant I saw the Englishman put the barrel of the rifle into the
tiger's ear. All I remembered was hot blood spurting over my
face. Kari was running away with all his might and did not stop
until he had crossed the clearing and disappeared beyond the
trees. He was not hurt, except that his side was torn here and
there with superficial wounds. When the beaters came, I made the
elephant kneel down. We both got off. The Englishman went to see
how big the tiger was while I led Kari in quest of my broken
flute. Toward sun-down when they had skinned the tiger, they
found its length to be nine feet, not counting the tail.