Tiger war is a science with axioms of its own. First of all come the
weather and the water-supply. It's useless to look for tigers in a dry
country, and it's useless to try and find them in the wet season, when
there is plenty of water everywhere. "Stripes" must be hunted in hot
weather, when great heat and the water distribution limit his
wanderings, and when forest leaves have fallen and the dense jungle is
thinned out.
And yet, there are all kinds of problems. For instance, Indian weather
is so erratic that, while there may be water and cover and tigers one
season, all three will be absent the next. Further, there is marked
individuality among tigers. One will lie in water all day, and never
venture forth till the sun has sunk behind the western hills; another
prowls boldly by day. Some prey on forest beasts--chiefly the spotted
cheetah and sambur-stag; others, again, mark out domestic animals. And
last comes the tigress with clamorous cubs, who suddenly learns by
accident or impulse that man, hitherto so feared, is in reality the
easiest prey of all.
We had a front of eighty miles. Naturally we needed a big force; we
probably mustered three hundred, all told. Our base of operations was
a railroad-station twenty miles away, and we doubted at first whether
we could live on the country, for the terrified people had abandoned
all cultivation, and were living on bamboo-seeds and the fleshy
blossoms of the mahwa-tree. This was a serious question--this and our
transport. We had seventy-four elephants, and each ate seven hundred
pounds of green stuff or sugar-cane every day; and of camels,
bullocks, rude carts, and horses we had hundreds, to say nothing of
the dozens of buffaloes we carried as live bait for tigers. We should
need fodder by the ton, as well as sheep, fowl, goats, game, and milk;
grain, too, for the crowds of camp-followers; and canned foods and
medicines--including, not least, the store of carbolic acid for
possible tiger-bites and maulings. The water was to be boiled and
filtered, then treated with permanganate of potash. It was regular
army equipment, you see.
I went out myself with the _shikari_ scouts, inspecting jungle-paths,
dry river-beds, and muddy margins of pools. They pointed out to me the
first rudiments in nature's book of signs: first of all the tiger
"pug," and the difference between the footprints of the tiger and the
tigress--the male's square, the female's a clear-cut oval. Here the
great tiger had drunk four days ago. The prints were not clear; in
places they were obliterated by tracks of bear, deer, and porcupine.
But clearly we were in a favorite haunt of both man-eaters. The male
must have passed after dawn, for his tracks overlay those of little
quail, which do not emerge until after daybreak. Then yet more signs:
muddy pools told mute tales of recent visits; high over the hill that
fell sheer to the valley were specks of vultures, hovering over recent
kills. Back to camp we went to report the enemy's presence.
The next move was the setting out of the live bait--the buffaloes.
Twoscore of the slow, ponderous creatures were led out and staked in a
great ring about the tigers, passive outposts about the enemy,
inviting their attack--an attack sure to come during the night. Then
we went back again to wait.
[Illustration: SLAYER OF SEVENTY-SIX NATIVES LAID LOW AT LAST
HE AND HIS MATE RAVAGED A TRACT OF COUNTRY FOUR HUNDRED AND EIGHTY
SQUARE MILES IN EXTENT]
Meanwhile, during the time while scouts were reconnoitering the enemy,
the rank and file had been offering sacrifices to their gods. The
Moslems were less tiresome than the Hindus in this respect. They
merely went in a body to the snow-white _zariat_ (saint-house) on the
hill, and offered up a goat. But the Brahman deity had to be
propitiated, lest all our plans go down to defeat. This god dwelt in a
jungle, attended by an old _jogi_ smeared with wood-ashes and streaked
with paint. Another goat was slain here. The beast was made to bow
comically three times before the hideous image in the shrine, and then
his throat was cut. Victory was now sure. The pious preliminaries
were finished, and then arrived at last the day of battle--the scenes
of which you never forget.
* * * * *
We are up and out at dawn, riding about the wide circle of the
tethered buffaloes. A delicate business, this. As we draw near the
first one, with infinite caution, we inspect the site through strong
binoculars. A flick of the ear, a whisk of the tail because of flies,
show that No. 1 is still alive. We water and feed the beast with fresh
grass, and then leave him. But our next place of call looks
suspicious, even from afar. A crow is cawing in a tree, and looks with
beady eyes below. Dark vulture-specks are wheeling in the blue. And
see! Tiger-marks in the dust, both square and oval! The dread couple
have been here--early in the night, evidently, for over their
"pug"-marks lies the trail of porcupines and other nocturnal beasts.
Sure enough, the big buffalo is gone, leaving only a broken rope-end,
a few splashes of blood, and the labored trail of a heavy body.
Strategy is ended now, and tactics begin.
We gallop back to camp and give the alarm. The huge battle-line is
ready. Long rows of giant tuskers stand with swaying heads, each with
his howdah beside him--towering brutes such as the old kings of Asia
rode into battle, to the terror of their enemies. The herds of
disdainful camels are kneeling in roaring protest against the camp
loads. From all quarters scouts have reported the enemy. Our army,
horse and foot, elephants and camels, will march in an hour--as
strange a sight and as strange a work as may be witnessed in the world
to-day.
Watch each elephant kneel and come prone for his big hunting-tower.
There are five men to each elephant, one at his head, four to haul the
gear and make fast. The deft skill, the swiftness and silence, show
the veteran in the enemy's country. Every man knows his work and knows
the officer above him; and each officer, too, knows just what is
expected of him--from the lowest up to the colonel himself, a fine
figure, tall, erect, white-haired, an adept in tiger-lore, with a
hundred and fifty skins in his bungalow.
[Illustration: TIGRESS ALSO IS SLAIN