Now, although we have said that Jim Slagg knew how to pull a trigger, it
does not follow that he knew how to avoid pulling that important little
piece of metal. He was aware, of course, that the keeping of his
forefinger off the trigger was a point of importance, but how to keep it
off when in a state of nervous expectation, he knew not, because his
memory and the forefinger of his right hand appeared to get disconnected
at such times, and it did not occur to him, just at first, that there
was such an arrangement in gun-locks as half-cock.
Flinn reminded him of the fact, however, when, soon after entering the
jungle, his straw hat was blown off his head by an accidental discharge
of Slagg's gun.
"Niver mention it," said Flinn, picking up his riven headpiece, while
poor Slagg overwhelmed him with protestations and apologies, and the
black boy stood behind exposing his teeth, and gums and the whites of
his eyes freely; "niver mention it, Mr Slagg; accidents _will_ happen,
you know, in the best regulated families. As for me beaver, it's better
riddled than whole in this warm weather. Maybe you'd as well carry your
gun at what sodgers call `the showlder,' wid the muzzle pintin' at the
moon--so; that's it. Don't blame yoursilf, Mr Slagg. Sure, it's worse
than that I was when I begood, for the nasty thing I carried wint off
somehow of its own accord, an' I shot me mother's finest pig--wan barrel
into the tail, an' the other into the hid. You see, they both wint off
a'most at the same moment. We must learn by exparience, av coorse.
You've not had much shootin' yet, I suppose?"
Poor, self-condemned Slagg admitted that he had not, and humbly attended
to Flinn's instructions, after which they proceeded on their way; but it
might have been observed that Flinn kept a corner of his eye steadily on
his new friend during the remainder of that day, while the attenuated
black kept so close to Slagg's elbow as to render the pointing of the
muzzle of his gun at him an impossibility.
Presently there was heard among the bushes a whirring of wings, and up
flew a covey of large birds of the turkey species. Flinn stepped
briskly aside, saying, "Now thin, let drive!" while the attenuated black
fell cautiously in rear.
Bang! bang! went Slagg's gun.
"Oh!" he cried, conscience-stricken; "there, if I haven't done it
again!"
"Done it! av coorse ye have!" cried Flinn, picking up an enormous bird;
"it cudn't have bin nater done by a sportin' lord."
"Then it ain't a tame one?" asked Slagg eagerly.
"No more a tame wan than yoursilf, an' the best of aitin' too," said.
Flinn.
Jim Slagg went on quietly loading his gun, and did not think it
necessary to explain that he had supposed the birds to be tame turkeys,
that his piece had a second time gone off by accident, and that he had
taken no aim at all!
After that, however, he managed to subdue his feelings a little, and
accidentally bagged a few more birds of strange form and beautiful
plumage, by the simple process of shutting his eyes and firing into the
middle of flocks, to the immense satisfaction of Flinn, who applauded
all his successes and explained away all his failures in the most
amiable manner.
If the frequent expanding of the mouth from ear to ear, the exposure of
white teeth and red gums, and the shutting up of glittering eyes,
indicated enjoyment, the attenuated boy must have been in a blissful
condition that day.
"Why don't ye shoot yerself, Mister Flinn?" asked Slagg on one occasion
while reloading.
"Bekaise it shuits me better to look on," answered the self-denying man.
"You see, I'm used to it; besides, I'm a marciful man, and don't care
to shoot only for divarshion."
"What's that?" cried Slagg, suddenly pointing his gun straight upwards
at two brilliant black eyes which were gazing straight down at him.
"Howld on--och! don't--"
Flinn thrust the gun aside, but he was too late to prevent the
explosion, which was followed by a lamentable cry, as a huge monkey fell
into Slagg's arms, knocked him over with the shock, and bounded off his
breast into its native woods, shrieking.
"Arrah! he's niver a bit the worse," cried Flinn, laughing, in spite of
his native politeness, "it was the fright knocked him off the branch.
If you'd only given him wan shot he might have stud it, but two was too
much for him. But plaise, Mister Slagg, don't fire at monkeys again. I
niver do it mesilf, an' can't stand by to see it. It's so like murther,
an' the only wan I iver shot in me life was so like me own owld
gran'mother that I've niver quite got over it."
Slagg willingly promised never again to fire at monkeys, and they
proceeded on their way.
They had not gone far, when another whirring of wings was heard, but
this time the noise was greater than on other occasions.
"What is it?" asked Slagg eagerly, preparing for action.
"Sure it's a pay-cock," said Flinn.
"A what-cock?" asked Slagg, who afterwards described the noise to be
like the flapping of a mainsail.
"A pay-cock. Splendid aitin'. Fire, avic!"
"What! fire at _that_?" cried Slagg, as a creature of enormous size and
gorgeous plumage rose above the bushes. "Ye must be jokin'. I
_couldn't_ fire at that."
"Faix, an' ye naidn't fire at it _now_," returned Flinn with a quiet
smile, "for it's a mile out o' range by this time. Better luck--och! if
there isn't another. Now, thin, don't be in a hurry. Be aisy.
Whatever ye do, be aisy."
While he spoke another huge bird appeared, and as Slagg beheld its size
and spreading wings and tail, he took aim with the feelings of a
cold-blooded murderer. That is to say, he shut both eyes and pulled
both triggers. This double action had become a confirmed habit by that
time, and Flinn commended it on the principle that there was "nothin'
like makin' cocksure of everything!"
Re-opening his eyes and lowering his gun, Slagg beheld the peacock
sailing away in the far distance.
"Sure ye've missed it, but after all it's a most awkward bird to hit--
specially when ye don't pint the gun quite straight. An' the tail, too,
is apt to throw even a crack-shot out--so it is. Niver mind; there's
plenty more where that wan came from."
Thus encouraged, our sportsman reloaded and continued his progress.
It is said that fortune favours the brave, and on that occasion the
proverb was verified. There can be no question that our friend Jim
Slagg was brave. All Irishmen are courageous, therefore it is equally
certain that Flinn was brave, and the attenuated black could not have
been otherwise than brave, else he would not have continued to enjoy
himself in the dangerous neighbourhood of Slagg's gun. As a
consequence, therefore, fortune did favour the sportsmen that day, for
it brought them unexpectedly into the presence of the king of India's
forests--a royal Bengal tiger--tawny skin, round face, glaring eyes, and
black stripes complete from nose to tail!
There was no doubt in Flinn's mind about it, as his actions proved, but
there were considerable doubts in Slagg's mind, as was evinced by his
immediate petrifaction--not with fear, of course, but with something or
other remarkably similar.
Slagg chanced to be walking in advance at the time, making his way with
some trouble through a rather dense bit of jungle. He had by that time
recovered his self-possession so much that he was able to let his mind
wander to other subjects besides sport.
At the moment when the _rencontre_ occurred he chanced to be wandering
in spirit among the groves of Pirate Island. On turning sharp round a
bend in the track, he found himself face to face with the tiger, which
crouched instantly for a spring. As we have said, the sportsman was
instantly petrified. He could not believe his eyes! He must have
believed something, however, else he would not have gazed with such
dreadful intensity. Yes, there, a few feet before him, crouched the
tenant of the menagerie, without the cage--the creature of picture
story-books endued with life!
Had Slagg's life depended on his putting his gun to his shoulder he
would have lost it, for he could not move. His fingers, however, were
gifted with independent action. They gave a spasmodic jerk, and both
barrels, chancing to be levelled correctly, sent their charges full into
the tiger's face.
Small shot may tickle a tiger but it cannot kill. With a roar like
thunder the brute sprang on its audacious enemy. Fortunately Slagg made
an _in_voluntary step to the rear at the moment, and fell on his back,
so that the animal, half-blinded by shot and smoke, went over him, and
alighted almost at the feet of Flinn.
That worthy was equal to the occasion. At the sound of his friend's
double shot he had seized the large rifle and leaped forward in time to
meet the baffled tiger. Quick as light his practised hand discharged
the heavy bullet, which, passing over the animal's head, went into its
spine near the haunches, so that when it tried a second spring its hind
legs refused their office, and it rolled over fuming and struggling in
an agony of pain and rage.
Flinn ran a few paces backward so as to reload in comparative safety,
while Slagg followed his example, but in desperate haste. Before he had
half charged the first barrel, a second shot from the heavy rifle laid
the royal monster dead on the ground.
"Well done!" cried Flinn, seizing his friend's hand and wringing it.
"It's Nimrod you are, no less. I niver saw a purtier shot. An', faix,
it's not every man that kills a tiger his first day out."
"But I _didn't_ kill it," said Slagg modestly.
"Sure but ye drew first blood, me boy, so the tiger's yours, an' I wish
you joy. Come, we'll go home now an' git help to fetch the carcass.
Won't they open their two eyes aich of them whin they see it! Here, ye
black spalpeen, take the rifle an' give me the gun."
In a few minutes the fortunate hunters were wending their way rapidly
homeward, and that night the whole party, while enjoying their supper,
feasted their eyes on the magnificent form of the royal Bengal tiger as
it lay on the verandah, in front of the electricians' bungalow.