In Isaacs' tent I was pulling off my turban, all shapeless and crumpled
by the long day, while Isaacs stood disconsolately looking at the clean
guns and unbroken rows of cartridges which Narain deposited on the
table. The sun was very low, and shone horizontally through the raised
door of the tent on my friend's rather gloomy face. At that moment
something intercepted the sunshine, and a dark shadow fell across the
floor. I looked, and saw a native standing on the threshold, salaaming
and waiting to be spoken to. He was not one of our men, but a common
ryot, clad simply in a _dhoti_ or waist-cloth, and a rather dirty
turban.
"Kya chahte ho?"--"What do you want?" asked Isaacs impatiently. He was
not in a good humour by any means. "Wilt thou deprive thy betters of the
sunlight thou enjoyest thyself?"
"The sahib's face is like the sun and the moon," replied the man
deprecatingly. "But if the great lord will listen I will tell him what
shall rejoice his heart."
"Speak, unbeliever," said Isaacs.
"Protector of the poor! you are my father and my mother! but I know
where there lieth a great tiger, an eater of men, hard-hearted, that
delighteth in blood."
"Dog," answered Isaacs, calmly removing his coat, "the tiger you speak
of was seen by you many moons since; what do you come to me with idle
tales for?" Isaacs was familiar with the native trick of palming off old
tigers on the unwary stranger, in the hope of a reward.
"Sahib, I am no liar. I saw the tiger, who is the king of the forest,
this morning." Isaacs' manner relaxed a little, and he sat down and
lighted the eternal cigarette. "Slave," he said meditatively, "if it is
as you say, I will kill the tiger, but if it is not as you say, I will
kill you, and cause your body to be buried with the carcass of an ox,
and your soul shall not live." The man did not seem much moved by the
threat. He moved nearer, and salaamed again.
"It is near to the dwelling of the sahib, who is my father," said the
man, speaking low. "The day before yesterday he destroyed a man from the
village. He has eaten five men in the last moon. I have seen him enter
his lair, and he will surely return before the dawn; and the sahib shall
strike him by his lightning; and the sahib will not refuse me the ears
of the man-eater, that I may make a _jädu_, a charm against sudden
death?"
"Hound! if thou speakest the truth, and I kill the tiger, the monarch of
game, I will make thee a rich man; but thou shalt not have his ears. I
desire the _jädu_ for myself. I have spoken; wait thou here my
pleasure." The ryot bent low to the earth, and then squatted by the
tent-door to wait, in the patient way that a Hindoo can, for Isaacs to
go and eat his dinner. As the latter came out ten minutes later, he
paused and addressed the man once more. "Speak not to any man of thy
tiger while I am gone, or I will cut off thine ears with a pork knife."
And we passed on.
The sun was now set and hovering in the afterglow, the new moon was
following lazily down. I stopped a moment to look at her, and was
surprised by Miss Westonhaugh's voice close behind me.
"Are you wishing by the new moon, Mr. Griggs?" she asked.
"Yes," said I, "I was. And what were you wishing, Miss Westonhaugh, if I
may ask?" Isaacs came up, and paused beside us. The beautiful girl stood
quite still, looking to westward, a red glow on the white-gold masses of
her hair.
"Did you say you were wishing for something, Miss Westonhaugh?" he
asked. "Perhaps I can get it for you. More flowers, perhaps? They are
very easily got."
"No--that is, not especially. I was wishing--well, that a tiger-hunt
might last for ever; and I want a pair of tiger's ears. My old _ayah_
says they keep off evil spirits and sickness; and all sorts of things."
"I know; it is a curious idea. I suppose both those beasts there have
lost theirs already. These fellows cut them off in no time."
"Yes. I have looked. So I suppose I must wait till to-morrow. But
promise me, Mr. Isaacs, if you shoot one to-morrow, let me have the
ears!"
"I will promise that readily enough. I would promise anything you--" The
last part of the sentence was lost to me, as I moved away and left them.
At dinner, of course, every one talked of the day's sport, and
compliments of all kinds were showered on Lord Steepleton, who looked
very much pleased, and drank a good deal of wine. Ghyrkins and the
little magistrate expressed their opinion that he would make a famous
tiger-killer one of these days, when he had learned to wait. Every one
was hungry and rather tired, and after a somewhat silent cigar, we
parted for the night, Miss Westonhaugh rising first. Isaacs went to his
quarters, and I remained alone in a long chair, by the deserted
dining-tent. Kiramat Ali brought me a fresh hookah, and I lay quietly
smoking and thinking of all kinds of things--things of all kinds,
tigers, golden hair, more tigers, Isaacs, Shere Ali, Baithop--, what was
his name--Baithop--p--. I fell asleep.
Some one touched my hand, waking me suddenly. I sprang to my feet and
seized the man by the throat, before I recognised in the starlight that
it was Isaacs.
"You are not a nice person to rouse," remarked he in a low voice, as I
relaxed my grasp. "You will have fever if you sleep out-of-doors at this
time of year. Now look here; it is past midnight, and I am going out a
little way." I noticed that he had a _kookrie_ knife at his waist, and
that his cartridge-belt was on his chest.
"I will go with you," said I, guessing his intention. "I will be ready
in a moment," and I began to move towards the tent.
"No. I must go alone, and do this thing single-handed. I have a
particular reason. I only wanted to warn you I was gone, in case you
missed me. I shall take that ryot fellow with me to show me the way."
"Give him a gun," I suggested.
"He could not use one if I did. He has your _kookrie_ in case of
accidents."
"Oh, very well! do not let me interfere with any innocent and childlike
pastime you may propose for your evening hours. I will attend to your
funeral in the morning. Good-night."
"Good-night; I shall be back before you are up." And he walked quickly
off to where the ryot was waiting and holding his guns. He had the sense
to take two. I was angry at the perverse temerity of the man. Why could
he not have an elephant out and go like a sensible thinking being,
instead of sneaking out with one miserable peasant to lie all night
among the reeds, in as great danger from cobras as from the beast he
meant to kill? And all for a girl --an English girl--a creature all fair
hair and eyes, with no more intelligence than a sheep! Was it not she
who sent him out to his death in the jungle, that her miserable caprice
for a pair of tiger's ears might be immediately satisfied? If a woman
ever loved me, Paul Griggs,--thank heaven no woman ever did,--would I go
out into bogs and desert places and risk my precious skin to find her a
pair of cat's ears? Not I;--wait a moment, though. If I were in his
place, if Miss Westonhaugh loved _me_--I laughed at the conceit. But
supposing she did. Just for the sake of argument, I would allow it. I
think that I would risk something after all. What a glorious thing it
would be to be loved by a woman, once, wholly and for ever. To meet the
creature I described to him the other night, waiting for me to come into
her life, and to be to her all I could be to the woman I should love.
But she has never come; never will, now; still, there is a sort of rest
to me in thinking of rest. Hearth, home, wife, children; the worn old
staff resting in the corner, never to wander again. What a strange thing
it is that men should have all these, and more, and yet never see that
they have the simple elements of earthly happiness, if they would but
use them. And we, outcasts and wanderers, children of sin and darkness,
in whose hands one commandment seems hardly less fragile than another,
would give anything--had we anything to give--for the happiness of a
home, to call our own. How strange it is that what I said to Isaacs
should be true. "Do not marry unless you must depend on each other for
daily bread, or unless you are rich enough to live apart." Yes, it is
true, in ninetynine cases out of a hundred. But then, I should add a
saving clause, "and unless you are quite sure that you love each other."
Ay, there is the _pons asinorum,_ the bridge whereon young asses and old
fools come to such terrible grief. They are perfectly sure they love
eternally; they will indignantly scorn the suggestions of prudence; love
any other woman? never, while I live, answers the happy and
unsophisticated youth. Be sorry I did it? Do you think I am a schoolboy
in my first passion? demands the aged bridegroom. And so they marry, and
in a year or two the enthusiastic young man runs away with some other
enthusiastic man's wife, and the octogenarian spouse finds himself
constituted into a pot of honey for his wife's swarming relations to
settle on, like flies. But a man in strong middle prime of age, like me,
knows his own mind; and--yes, on the whole I was unjust to Isaacs and to
Miss Westonhaugh. If a woman loved me, she should have all the tiger's
ears she wanted. "Still, I hope he will get back safely," I added, in
afterthought to my reverie, as I turned into bed and ordered Kiramat Ali
to wake me half an hour before dawn.
I was restless, sleeping a little and dreaming much. At last I struck a
light and looked at my watch. Four o'clock. It would not be dawn for
more than an hour; I knew Isaacs had made for the place where the tiger
passed his days, certain that he would return near daybreak, according
to all common probability. He need not have gone so early, I thought.
However, it might be a long way off. I lay still for a while, but it
seemed very hot and close under the canvas. I got up and threw a
_caftán_ round me, drew a chair into the _connât_ and sat, or rather
lay, down in the cool morning breeze. Then I dozed again until Kiramat
Ali woke me by pulling at my foot. He said it would be dawn in half an
hour. I had passed a bad night, and went out, as I was, to walk on the
grass. There was Miss Westonhaugh's tent away off at the other end. She
was sleeping calmly enough, never doubting that at that very moment the
man who loved her was risking his life for her pleasure--her slightest
whim. She would be wide awake if she knew it, staring out into the
darkness and listening for the crack of his rifle. A faint light
appeared behind the dining-tent, over the distant trees, like the light
of London seen from twenty or thirty miles' distance in the country, a
faint, suggestive, murky grayness in the sky, making the stars look
dimmer.
The sound of a shot rang true and clear through the chill air; not far
off I thought. I held my breath, listening for a second report, but none
came. So it was over. Either he had killed the tiger with his first
bullet, or the tiger had killed him before he could fire a second. I was
intensely excited. If he were safe I wished him to have the glory of
coming home quite alone. There was nothing for it but to wait, so I went
into my tent and took a bath--a very simple operation where the bathing
consists in pouring a huge jar of water over one's head. Tents in India
have always a small side tent with a ditch dug to drain off the water
from the copious ablutions of the inmate. I emerged into the room
feeling better. It was now quite light, and I proceeded to dress
leisurely to spin out the time. As I was drawing on my boots, Isaacs
sauntered in quietly and laid his gun on the table. He was pale, and his
Karkee clothes were covered with mud and leaves and bits of creeper, but
his movements showed he was not hurt in any way; he hardly seemed tired.
"Well?" I said anxiously.
"Very well, thank you. Here they are," and he produced from the pocket
of his coat the _spolia opima_ in the shape of a pair of ears, that
looked very large to me. There was a little blood on them and on his
hands as he handed the precious trophies to me for inspection. We stood
by the open door, and while I was turning over the ears curiously in my
hands, he looked down at his clothes.
"I think I will take a bath," he said; "I must have been in a dirty
place."
"My dear fellow," I said, taking his hand, "this is absurd. I mean all
this affected calmness. I was angry at your going in that way, to risk
your head in a tiger's mouth; but I am sincerely glad to see you back
alive. I congratulate you most heartily."
"Thank you, old man," he said, his pale face brightening a little. "I am
very glad myself. Do you know I have a superstition that I must fulfil
every wish of--like that--even half expressed, to the very letter?"
"The 'superstition,' as you call it, is worthy of the bravest knight
that ever laid lance in rest. Don't part with superstitions like that.
They are noble and generous things."
"Perhaps," he answered, "but I really am very superstitious," he added,
as he turned into the bathing _connât_. Soon I heard him splashing among
the water jars.
"By-the-bye, Griggs," he called out through the canvas, "I forgot to
tell you. They are bringing that beast home on an elephant. It was much
nearer than we supposed. They will be here in twenty minutes." A
tremendous splashing interrupted him. "You can go and attend to that
funeral you were talking about last night," he added, and his voice was
again drowned in the swish and souse of the water. "He was rather
large--over ten feet--I should say. Measure him as soon as he--" another
cascade completed the sentence. I went out, taking the measuring tape
from the table.
In a few minutes the procession appeared. Two or three matutinal
shikarries had gone out and come back, followed by the elephant, for
which Isaacs had sent the ryot at full speed the moment he was sure the
beast was dead. And so they came up the little hill behind the
dining-tent. The great tusker moved evenly along, bearing on the pad an
enormous yellow carcass, at which the little _mahout_ glanced
occasionally over his shoulder. Astride of the dead king sat the ryot,
who had directed Isaacs, crooning a strange psalm of victory in his
outlandish northern dialect, and occasionally clapping his hands over
his head with an expression of the most intense satisfaction I have ever
seen on a human face. The little band came to the middle of the camp
where the other tigers, now cut up and skinned elsewhere, had been
deposited the night before, and as the elephant knelt down, the
shikarries pulled the whole load over, pad, tiger, ryot and all, the
latter skipping nimbly aside. There he lay, the great beast that had
taken so many lives. We stretched him out and measured him--eleven feet
from the tip of his nose to the end of his tail, all but an inch--as a
little more straightening fills the measure, eleven feet exactly.
Meanwhile, the servant and shikarries collected, and the noise of the
exploit went abroad. The sun was just rising when Mr. Ghyrkins put his
head out of his tent and wanted to know "what the deuce all this
_tamäsha_ was about."
"Oh, nothing especial," I called out. "Isaacs has killed an eleven foot
man-eater in the night. That is all."
"Well I'm damned," said Mr. Ghyrkins briefly, and to the point, as he
stared from his tent at the great carcass, which lay stretched out for
all to see, the elephant having departed.
"Clear off those fellows and let me have a look at him, can't you?" he
called out, gathering the tent curtains round his neck; and there he
stood, his jolly red face and dishevelled gray hair looking as if they
had no body attached at all.
I went back to our quarters. Isaacs was putting the ears, which he had
carefully cleansed from blood, into a silver box of beautiful
workmanship, which Narain had extracted from his master's numerous
traps.
"Take that box to Miss Westonhaugh's tent," he said, giving it to the
servant, "with a greeting from me--with 'much peace.'" The man went out.
"She will send the box back," said I. "Such is the Englishwoman. She
will take a pair of tiger's ears that nearly cost you your life, and she
would rather die than accept the bit of silver in which you enclose
them, without the 'permission of her uncle.'"
"I do not care," he said, "so long as she keeps the ears. But unless I
am much mistaken, she will keep the box too. She is not like other
Englishwomen in the least."
I was not sure of that. We had some tea in the door of our tent, and
Isaacs seemed hungry and thirsty, as well he might be. Now that he was
refreshed by bathing and the offices of the camp barber, he looked much
as usual, save that the extreme paleness I had noticed when he came in
had given place to a faint flush beneath the olive, probably due to his
excitement, the danger being past. As we sat there, the rest of the
party, who had slept rather later than usual after their fatigues of the
previous day, came out one by one and stood around the dead tiger,
wondering at the tale told by the delighted ryot, who squatted at the
beast's head to relate the adventure to all comers. We could see the
group from where we sat, in the shadow of the _connât_, and the
different expressions of the men as they came out. The little collector
of Pegnugger measured and measured again; Mr. Ghyrkins stood with his
hands in his coat pockets and his legs apart, then going to the other
side he took up the same position again. Lord Steepleton Kildare
sauntered round and twirled his big moustache, saying nothing the while,
but looking rather serious. John Westonhaugh, who seemed to be the
artistic genius of the party, sent for a chair and made his servant hold
an umbrella over him while he sketched the animal in his notebook, and
presently his sister came out, a big bunch of roses in her belt, and a
broad hat half hiding her face, and looked at the tiger and then round
the party quickly, searching for Isaacs. In her hand she held a little
package wrapped in white tissue paper. I strolled up to the group,
leaving Isaacs in his tent. I thought I might as well play innocence.
"Of course," I remarked, "those fellows have bagged his ears as usual."
"They never omit that," said Ghyrkins.
"Oh no, uncle," broke in Miss Westonhaugh, "he gave them to me!"
"Who?" asked Ghyrkins, opening his little eyes wide.
"Mr. Isaacs. Did not he kill the tiger? He sent me the ears in a little
silver box. Here it is--the box, I mean. I am going to give it back to
him, of course."
"How did Mr. Isaacs know you wanted them?" asked her uncle, getting red
in the face.
"Why, we were talking about them last night before dinner, and he
promised that if he shot a tiger to-day he would give me the ears." Mr.
Ghyrkins was redder and redder in the morning sun. There was a storm of
some kind brewing. We were collected together on the other side of the
dead tiger and exchanged all kinds of spontaneous civilities and
remarks, not wishing to witness Mr. Ghyrkins' wrath, nor to go away too
suddenly. I heard the conversation, however, for the old gentleman made
no pretence of lowering his voice.
"And do you mean to say you let him go off like that? He must have been
out all night. That beast of a nigger says so. On foot, too. I say on
foot! Do you know what you are talking about? Eh? Shooting tigers on
foot? What? Eh? Might have been killed as easily as not! And then what
would you have said? Eh? What? Upon my soul! You girls from home have no
more hearts than a parcel of old Juggernauts!" Ghyrkins was now furious.
We edged away towards the dining-tent, making a great talk about the
terrible heat of the sun in the morning. I caught the beginning of Miss
Westonhaugh's answer. She had hardly appreciated the situation yet, and
probably thought her uncle was joking, but she spoke very coldly, being
properly annoyed at his talking in such a way.
"You cannot suppose for a moment that I meant him to go," I heard her
say, and something else followed in a lower tone. We then went into the
dining-tent.
"Now look here, Katharine," Mr. Ghyrkins' irate voice rang across the
open space, "if any young woman asked me----" John Westonhaugh had risen
from his chair and apparently interrupted his uncle. Miss Westonhaugh
walked slowly to her tent, while her male relations remained talking. I
thought Isaacs had shown some foresight in not taking part in the
morning discussion. The two men went into their tents together and the
dead tiger lay alone in the grass, the sun rising higher and higher,
pouring down his burning rays on man and beast and green thing. And soon
the shikarries came with a small elephant and dragged the carcass away
to be skinned and cut up. Kildare and the collector said they would go
and shoot some small game for dinner. Isaacs, I supposed, was sleeping,
and I was alone in the dining-tent. I shouted for Kiramat Ali and sent
for books, paper, and pens, and a hookah, resolved to have a quiet
morning to myself, since it was clear we were not going out to-day. I
saw Ghyrkins' servant enter his tent with bottles and ice, and I
suspected the old fellow was going to cool his wrath with a "peg," and
would be asleep most of the morning. John would take a peg too, but he
would not sleep in consequence, being of Bombay, iron-headed and
spirit-proof. So I read on and wrote, and was happy, for I like the heat
of the noon-day and the buzzing of the flies, and the smell of the
parched grass, being southern born.
About twelve o'clock, when I was beginning to think I had done enough
work for one day, I saw Miss Westonhaugh's native maid come out of her
mistress's tent and survey the landscape, shading her eyes with her
hand. She was dressed, of course, in spotless white drapery, and there
were heavy anklets on her feet and bangles of silver on her wrist. She
seemed satisfied by her inspection and went in again, returning
presently with Miss Westonhaugh and a large package of work and novels
and letter-writing materials. They came straight to where I was sitting
under the airy tent where we dined, and Miss Westonhaugh established
herself at one side of the table at the end of which I was writing.
"It is so hot in my tent," she said almost apologetically, and began to
unroll some worsted work.
"Yes, it is quite unbearable," I answered politely, though I had not
thought much about the temperature. There was a long silence, and I
collected my papers in a bundle and leaned back in my chair. I did not
know what to say, nor was anything expected of me. I looked occasionally
at the young girl, who had laid her hat on the table, allowing the rich
coils of dazzling hair to assert their independence. Her dark eyes were
bent over her work as her fingers deftly pushed the needle in and out of
the brown linen she worked on.
"Mr. Griggs," she began at last without looking up, "did you know Mr.
Isaacs was going out last night to kill that horrid thing?" I had
expected the question for some time.
"Yes; he told me about midnight, when he started."
"Then why did you let him go?" she asked, looking suddenly at me, and
knitting her dark eyebrows rather fiercely.
"I do not think I could have prevented him. I do not think anybody could
prevent him from doing anything he had made up his mind to. I nearly
quarrelled with him, as it was."
"I am sure I could have stopped him, if I had been you," she said
innocently.
"I have not the least doubt that you could. Unfortunately, however, you
were not available at the time, or I would have suggested it to you."
"I wish I had known," she went on, plunging deeper and deeper. "I would
not have had him go for--for anything."
"Oh! Well, I suppose not. But, seriously, Miss Westonhaugh, are you not
flattered that a man should be willing and ready to risk life and limb
in satisfying your lightest fancy?"
"Flattered?" she looked at me with much astonishment and some anger. I
was sure the look was genuine and not assumed.
"At all events the tiger's ears will always be a charming reminiscence,
a token of esteem that any one might be proud of."
"I am not proud of them in the least, though I shall always keep them as
a warning not to wish for such things. I hope that the next time Mr.
Isaacs is going to do a foolish thing you will have the common sense to
prevent him." She returned to her starting-point; but I saw no use in
prolonging the skirmish, and turned the talk upon other things. And soon
John Westonhaugh joined us, and found in me a sympathetic talker and
listener, as we both cared a great deal more for books than for tigers,
though not averse to a stray shot now and then.
In this kind of life the week passed, shooting to-day and staying in
camp to-morrow. We shifted our ground several times, working along the
borders of the forest and crashing through the jungle after tiger with
varying success. In the evenings, when not tired with the day's work, we
sat together, and Isaacs sang, and at last even prevailed upon Miss
Westonhaugh to let him accompany her with his guitar, in which he proved
very successful. They were constantly together, and Ghyrkins was heard
to say that Isaacs was "a very fine fellow, and it was a pity he wasn't
English," to which Kildare assented somewhat mournfully, allowing that
it was quite true. His chance was gone, and he knew it, and bore it like
a gentleman, though he still made use of every opportunity he had to
make himself acceptable to Miss Westonhaugh. The girl liked his manly
ways, and was always grateful for any little attention from him that
attracted her notice, but it was evident that all her interest ceased
there. She liked him in the same way she liked her brother, but rather
less, if anything. She hardly knew, for she had seen so little of John
since she was a small child. I suppose Isaacs must have talked to her
about me, for she treated me with a certain consideration, and often
referred questions to me, on which I thought she might as well have
consulted some one else. For my part, I served the lovers in every way I
could think of. I would have done anything for Isaacs then as now, and I
liked her for the honest good feeling she had shown about him,
especially in the matter of the tiger's ears, for which she could not
forgive herself--though in truth she had been innocent enough. And they
were really lovers, those two. Any one might have seen it, and but for
the wondrous fascination Isaacs exercised over every one who came near
him, and the circumstances of his spotless name and reputation for
integrity in the large transactions in which he was frequently known to
be engaged, it is certain that Mr. Ghyrkins would have looked askance at
the whole affair, and very likely would have broken up the party.
In the course of time we became a little _blasé_ about tigers, till on
the eighth day from the beginning of the hunt, which was a Thursday, I
remember, an incident occurred which left a lasting impression on the
mind of every one who witnessed it. It was a very hot morning, the
hottest day we had had, and we had just crossed a _nullah_ in the
forest, full from the recent rains, wherein the elephants lingered
lovingly to splash the water over their heated sides, drowning the
swarms of mosquitoes from which they suffer such torments, in spite of
their thick skins. The collector called a halt on the opposite side; our
line of march had become somewhat disordered by the passage, and
numerous tracks in the pasty black mud showed that the _nullah_ was a
favourite resort of tigers--though at this time of day they might be a
long distance off. I had come next to the collector after we emerged
from the stream, the pad elephants having lingered longer in the water,
and Mr. Ghyrkins with Miss Westonhaugh was three or four places beyond
me. It was shady and cool under the thick trees, and the light was not
good. The collector bent over his howdah, looking at some tracks.
"Those tracks look suspiciously fresh, Mr. Griggs," said the collector,
scrutinising the holes, not yet filled by the oozing back water of the
_nullah_. "Don't you think so?"
"Indeed, yes. I do not understand it at all," I replied. At the
collector's call a couple of beaters came forward and stooped down to
examine the trail. One of them, a good-looking young _gowala_, or
cowherd, followed along the footprints, examining each to be sure he was
not going on a false spoor; he moved slowly, scrutinising each hole, as
the traces grew shallower on the rising ground, approaching a bit of
small jungle. My sight followed the probable course of the track ahead
of him and something caught my eyes, which are remarkably good, even at
a great distance. The object was brown and hairy; a dark brown, not the
kind of colour one expects to see in the jungle in September. I looked
closely, and was satisfied that it must be part of an animal; still more
clearly I saw it, and no doubt remained in my mind; it was the head of a
bullock or a heifer. I shouted to the man to be careful, to stop and let
the elephants plough through the undergrowth, as only elephants can. But
he did not understand my Hindustani, which was of the civilised _Urdu_
kind learnt in the North-West Provinces. The man went quickly along, and
I tried to make the collector comprehend what I saw. But the pad
elephants were coming out of the water and forcing themselves between
our beasts, and he hardly caught what I said in the confusion. The track
led away to my left, nearly opposite to the elephant bearing Mr.
Ghyrkins and his niece. The little Pegnugger man was on my right. The
native held on, moving more and more rapidly as he found himself
following a single track. I shouted to him--to Ghyrkins--to everybody,
but they could not make the doomed man understand what I saw--the
freshly slain head of the tiger's last victim. There was little doubt
that the king himself was near by--probably in that suspicious-looking
bit of green jungle, slimy green too, as green is, that grows in sticky
chocolate-coloured mud. The young fellow was courageous, and ignorant of
the immediate danger, and, above all, he was on the look out for
bucksheesh. He reached the reeds and unclean vegetables that grew thick
and foul together in the little patch. He put one foot into the bush.
A great fiery yellow and black head rose cautiously above the level of
the green and paused a moment, glaring. The wretched man, transfixed
with terror, stood stock still, expecting death. Then he moved, as if to
throw himself on one side, and at the same instant the tiger made a dash
at his naked body, such a dash as a great relentless cat makes at a
gold-fish trying to slide away from its grip. The tiger struck the man a
heavy blow on the right shoulder, felling him like a log, and coming
down to a standing position over his prey, with one paw on the native's
right arm. Probably the parade of elephants and bright coloured howdahs,
and the shouts of the beaters and shikarries, distracted his attention
for a moment. He stood whirling his tail to right and left, with half
dropped jaw and flaming eyes, half pressing, half grabbing the fleshy
arm of the senseless man beneath him--impatient, alarmed, and horrible.
"Pack!!! Pi-i-i-i-ing ..." went the crack and the sing of the merry
rifle, and the scene changed.
With a yell like a soul in everlasting torment the great beast whirled
himself into the air ten feet at least, and fell dead beside his victim,
shot through breast and breastbone and heart. A dead silence fell on the
spectators. Then I looked, and saw Miss Westonhaugh holding out a second
gun to Mr. Ghyrkins, while he, seeing that the first had done its work,
leaned forward, his broad face pale with the extremity of his horror for
the man's danger, and his hands gripping at the empty rifle.
"You've done it this time," cried the collector from the right. "Take
six to four the man's dead!"
"Done," called Kildare from the other end. I was the nearest to the
scene, after Ghyrkins. I dropped over the edge of the howdah and made
for the spot, running. I think I reflected as I ran that it was rather
low for men to bet on the poor fellow's life in that way. Tigers are
often very deceptive and always die hard, and I am a cautious person, so
when I was near I pulled out my long army six-shooter, and, going
within arm's length, quietly put a bullet through the beast's eye as a
matter of safety. When he was cut up, however, the ball from the rifle
of Mr. Ghyrkins was found in his heart; the old fellow was a dead shot
still. I went up and examined the prostrate man. He was lying on his
face, and so I picked him up and propped his head against the dead
tiger. He was still breathing, but a very little examination proved that
his right collar-bone and the bone of his upper arm were broken. A
little brandy revived him, and he immediately began to scream with pain.
I was soon joined by the collector, who with characteristic promptitude
had torn and hewed some broad slats of bamboo from his howdah, and with
a little pulling and wrenching, and the help of my long, tough
turban-cloth, a real native pugree, we set and bound the arm as best we
could, giving the poor fellow brandy all the while. The collar-bone we
left to its own devices; an injury there takes care of itself.
An elephant came up and received the dead tiger, and the man was carried
off and placed in my howdah. The other animals with their riders had
gathered near the scene, and every one had something to say to Ghyrkins,
who by his brilliant shot and the life he had saved, had maintained his
reputation, and come off the hero of the whole campaign. Miss
Westonhaugh was speechless with horror at the whole thing, and seemed to
cling to her uncle, as if fearing something of the same kind might
happen to her at any moment. Isaacs, as usual the last on the line of
beating, came up and called out his congratulations.
"After saving a life so well, Mr. Ghyrkins, you will not grudge me the
poor honour of risking one, will you?"
"Not I, my boy!" answered the delighted old sportsman, "only if that
mangy old man-eater had got you down the other day, I should not have
been there to pot him!"
"Great shot, sir! I envy you," said Kildare.
"Splendid shot. A hundred yards at least," said John Westonhaugh
meditatively, but in a loud voice.
So we swung away toward the camp, though it was early. Ghyrkins
chuckled, and the man with the broken bones groaned. But between the
different members of the party he would be a rich man before he was
well. I amused myself with my favourite sport of potting peacocks with
bullets; it is very good practice. Isaacs had told me that morning when
we started that he would leave us the next day to meet Shere Ali near
Keitung. We reached camp about three o'clock, in the heat of the
afternoon. The injured beater was put in a servant's tent to be sent off
to Pegnugger in a litter in the cool of the night. There was a doctor
there who would take care of him under the collector's written orders.
The camp was in a shady place, quite unlike the spot where we had first
pitched our tents. There was a little grove of mango-trees, rather
stunted, as they are in the north, and away at one corner of the
plantation was a well with a small temple where a Brahmin, related to
all the best families in the neighbouring village, dwelt and collected
the gifts bestowed on him and his simple shrine by the superstitious,
devout, or worldly pilgrims who yearly and monthly visited him in search
of counsel, spiritual or social. The men had mowed the grass smooth
under the trees, and the shade was not so close as to make it damp. Some
ryots had been called in to dig a ditch and raised a rough _chapudra_ or
terrace, some fifteen feet in diameter, opposite the dining-tent, on
which elevation we could sit, even late at night, in reasonable security
from cobras and other evil beasts. It was a pleasant place in the
afternoon, and pleasanter still at night. As I turned into our tent
after we got back, I thought I would go and sit there when I had bathed,
and send for a hookah and a novel, and go to sleep.
* * * * *