They were laying the railway through the Hazaribagh district, and
in a low-roofed bungalow at Giridih lived the Engineer in charge of
the work. He was a young Englishman and his only recreation in this
dreary place was riding and shooting.
The coolies lived in frail little mat houses in the same enclosure
as his bungalow. One morning they came to him in a body to tell him
that during the night a tiger had carried off one of their cows. The
next morning another cow was missing, and on the third his servants
awakened him with the news that his Arab pony was gone.
He loved the little animal. Many a mile had he scoured on its
back. "Stripes" must be punished for this. He would sit up the coming
night and watch.
Babus, servants and coolies loudly approved. What was life worth with
such nightly happenings? and the lord of the jungle would surely come
again. Had he not discovered a well-filled larder?
Work over, the young man loaded his gun, and after dinner took up
his position and awaited the enemy. A reliable servant sat up with him.
The bungalow was raised on piles a few feet from the ground. It had
brick walls but a thatched roof which sloped very low down on all
sides. The wooden windows were closed. Our friend sat at one of them
with the Venetians slightly stretched. The bungalow was dark and still.
At last a strange odour filled the air and then the heavy breathing of
the tiger was audible. It came and stood just outside the window. The
young fellow noiselessly pointed his gun through the Venetians and
fired. An angry growl told that the tiger was wounded. Then it charged
forward with a furious roar. The Englishman fired again and this
time thought he had finished it. But the animal charged again with
increased rage. After several attempts at the window it leapt for
the roof and succeeded in clutching the eaves and scrambled up. The
terrified servant cried: "Saheb, come into another room".
"Don't be a fool!" shouted his master, "the tiger can't come through
the roof."
In their huts the poor coolies heard the shots and the terrible roars
and growls and dared not come to their master's assistance. The tiger
tore and scratched the thatch with all his might and soon made a
hole. "Look! Saheb!" screamed the servant, "he comes through".
"I have a loaded gun in my hand", the Saheb replied.
The hole speedily grew larger as the great cat clawed and growled. The
servant could stand it no longer. He bolted into the next room,
shutting the door between. There he shivered and shook till morning,
when he fled to the railway station a couple of miles away and told the
Sahibs there his tale. They got guns and horses and rode over. They
peered through the shutters and saw the tiger in the room. It
soon scented them and charged with a mighty roar. They retreated
without dignity to a safe distance where all stopped. One said,
"I say! we must see what has happened to the poor chap". Another:
"So many of us and loaded guns! We must do something". A third:
"let's get back and kill the beast".
They went back and fired shot after shot through the shutters
till the animal was killed. Then they broke into the room and found
their luckless comrade dead on the floor, his loaded gun still in his
hand. The tiger must have killed him with a slap of its mighty paw, and
sat on his body all night, but clearly the animal was not a man-eater.