We resume the beat.--The hog-deer.--Nepaulese villages.--Village
granaries.--Tiger in front.--A hit! a hit!--Following up the wounded
tiger.--Find him dead.--Tiffin in the village.--The Patair jungle.
--Search for tiger.--Gone away!--An elephant steeplechase in pursuit.
--Exciting chase.--The Morung jungle.--Magnificent scenery.--Skinning
the tiger.--Incidents of tiger hunting.
Next morning, both the magistrate and myself felt very ill, headachy
and sick, with violent vomiting and retching; Captain S. attributed it
to the fierce hot wind and exposure of the preceding day, but we, the
sufferers, blamed the _dekchees_ or cooking pots. These _dekchees_ are
generally made of copper, coated or tinned over with white metal once
a month or oftener; if the tinning is omitted, or the copper becomes
exposed by accident or neglect, the food cooked in the pots sometimes
gets tainted with copper, and produces nausea and sickness in those
who eat it. I have known, within my own experience, cases of copper
poisoning that have terminated fatally. It is well always thoroughly
to inspect the kitchen utensils, particularly when in camp; unless
carefully watched and closely supervised, servants get very careless,
and let food remain in these copper vessels. This is always dangerous,
and should never be allowed.
In consequence of our indisposition, we did not start till the
forenoon was far advanced, and the hot west wind had again begun to
sweep over the prairie-like stretches of sand and withered grass. We
commenced beating up by the Batan or cattle stance, near which we had
seen the big tiger, the preceding evening. S. however became so sick
and giddy, that he had to return to camp, and Captain S. and I
continued the beat alone. Having gone over the same ground only
yesterday, we did not expect a tiger so near to camp, more especially
as the fire had made fearful havoc with the tall grass. Hog-deer were
very numerous; they are not as a rule easily disturbed; they are of a
reddish brown colour, not unlike that of the Scotch red deer, and rush
through the jungle, when alarmed, with a succession of bounding leaps;
they make very pretty shooting, and when young, afford tender and
well-flavoured venison. One hint I may give. When you shoot a buck,
see that he is at once denuded of certain appendages, else the flesh
will get rank and disagreeable to eat. The bucks have pretty antlers,
but are not very noble looking. The does are somewhat lighter in
colour, and do not seem to consort together in herds like antelopes;
there are rarely more than five in a group, though I have certainly
seen more on several occasions.
This morning we were unlucky with our deer. I shot three, and Captain
S. shot at and wounded three, not one of which however did we bag.
This part of the country is exclusively inhabited by Parbutteas, the
native name for Nepaulese settled in British territory. Over the
frontier line, the villages are called Pahareeas, signifying
mountaineers or hillmen, from Pahar, a mountain. We beat up to a
Parbuttea village, with its conical roofed huts; men and women were
engaged in plaiting long coils of rice straw into cable looking ropes.
A few split bamboos are fastened into the ground, in a circle, and
these ropes are then coiled round, in and out, between the stakes;
this makes a huge circular vat-shaped repository, open at both ends;
it is then lifted up and put on a platform coated with mud, and
protected from rats and vermin by the pillars being placed on smooth,
inverted earthen pots. The coils of straw are now plastered outside
and in with a mixture of mud, chaff, and cowdung, and allowed to dry;
when dried the hut is filled with grain, and securely roofed and
thatched. This forms the invariable village granary, and looks at a
distance not unlike a stack or rick of corn, round a farm at home. By
the abundance of these granaries in a village, one can tell at a
glance whether the season has been a good one, and whether the frugal
inhabitants of the clustering little hamlet are in pretty comfortable
circumstances. If they are under the sway of a grasping and
unscrupulous landlord, they not unfrequently bury their grain in
clay-lined chambers in the earth, and have always enough for current
wants, stored up in the sun-baked clay repositories mentioned in a
former chapter.
Beyond the village we entered some thick Patair jungle. Its greenness
was refreshing after the burnt up and withered grass jungle. We were
now in a hollow bordering the stream, and somewhat protected from the
scorching wind, and the stinging clouds of fine sand and red dust. The
brook looked so cool and refreshing, and the water so clear and
pellucid, that I was about to dismount to take a drink and lave my
heated head and face, when a low whistle to my right made me look in
that direction, and I saw the Captain waving his hand excitedly, and
pointing ahead. He was higher up the bank than I was, and in very
dense Patair; a ridge ran between his front of the line and mine, so
that I could only see his howdah, and the bulk of the elephant's body
was concealed from me by the grass on this ridge.
I closed up diagonally across the ridge; S. still waving to me to
hurry up; as I topped it, I spied a large tiger slouching along in the
hollow immediately below me. He saw me at the same instant, and
bounded on in front of S. His Express was at his shoulder on the
instant; he fired, and a tremendous spurt of blood shewed a hit, a
hit, a palpable hit. The tiger was nowhere visible, and not a cry or a
motion could we hear or see, to give us any clue to the whereabouts of
the wounded animal. We followed up however, quickly but cautiously,
expecting every instant a furious charge.
We must have gone at least a hundred yards, when right in front of me
I descried the tiger, crouching down, its head resting on its fore
paws, and to all appearance settling for a spring. It was about twenty
yards from me, and taking a rather hasty aim, I quickly fired both
barrels straight at the head. I could only see the head and paws, but
these I saw quite distinctly. My elephant was very unsteady, and both
my bullets went within an inch of the tiger's head, but fortunately
missed completely. I say fortunately, for finding the brute still
remaining quite motionless, we cautiously approached, and found it was
stone dead. The perfect naturalness of the position, however, might
well have deceived a more experienced sportsman. The beast was lying
crouched on all fours, as if in the very act of preparing to spring.
The one bullet had killed it; the wound was in the lungs, and the
internal bleeding had suffocated it, but here was a wonderful instance
of the tiger's tenacity of life, even when sorely wounded, for it had
travelled over a hundred and thirty yards after S. had shot it.
It was lucky I missed, for my bullets would have spoiled the skull.
She was a very handsome, finely marked tigress, a large specimen, for
on applying the tape we found she measured exactly nine feet. Before
descending to measure her, we were joined by the old Major Capt[=a]n,
whose elephants we had for some time descried in the distance. His
congratulations were profuse, and no doubt sincere, and after padding
the tigress, we hied to the welcome shelter of one of the village
houses, where we discussed a hearty and substantial tiffin.
During tiffin, we were surrounded by a bevy of really fair and buxom
lasses. They wore petticoats of striped blue cloth, and had their arms
and shoulders bare, and their ears loaded with silver ornaments. They
were merry, laughing, comely damsels, with none of the exaggerated
shyness, and affected prudery of the women of the plains. We were
offered plantains, milk, and chupatties, and an old patriarch came out
leaning on his staff, to revile and abuse the tigress. From some of
the young men we heard of a fresh kill to the north of the village,
and after tiffin we proceeded in that direction, following up the
course of the limpid stream, whose gurgling ripple sounded so
pleasantly in our ears.
Far ahead to the right, and on the further bank of the stream, we
could see dense curling volumes of smoke, and leaping pyramids of
flame, where a jungle fire was raging in some thick acacia scrub. As
we got nearer, the heat became excessive, and the flames, fanned into
tremendous fury by the fierce west wind, tore through the dry thorny
bushes. Our elephants were quite unsteady, and did not like facing the
fire. We made a slight detour, and soon had the roaring wall of flame
behind us. We were now entering on a moist, circular, basin-shaped
hollow. Among the patair roots were the recent marks of great numbers
of wild pigs, where they had been foraging among the stiff clay for
these esculents. The patair is like a huge bulrush, and the elephants
are very fond of its succulent, juicy, cool-looking leaves. Those in
our line kept tearing up huge tufts of it, thrashing out the mud and
dirt from the roots against their forelegs, and with a grunt of
satisfaction, making it slowly disappear in their cavernous mouths.
There was considerable noise, and the jungle was nearly as high as the
howdahs, presenting the appearance of an impenetrable screen of vivid
green. We beat and rebeat, across and across, but there was no sign of
the tiger. The banks of the nullah were very steep, rotten looking,
and dangerous. We had about eighteen elephants, namely, ten of our
own, and eight belonging to the Nepaulese. We were beating very close,
the elephants' heads almost touching. This is the way they always beat
in Nepaul. We thought we had left not a spot in the basin untouched,
and Captain S. was quite satisfied that there could be no tiger there.
It was a splendid jungle for cover, so thick, dense, and cool. I was
beating along the edge of the creek, which ran deep and silent,
between the gloomy sedge-covered banks. In a placid little pool I saw
a couple of widgeon all unconscious of danger, their glossy plumage
reflected in the clear water. I called to Captain S. 'We are sold this
time Captain, there's no tiger here!'
'I am afraid not,' he answered.
'Shall I bag those two widgeon?' I asked.
'All right,' was the response.
Putting in shot cartridge, I shot both the widgeon, but we were all
astounded to see the tiger we had so carefully and perseveringly
searched for, bound out of a crevice in the bank, almost right under
my elephant. Off he went with a smothered roar, that set our elephants
hurrying backwards and forwards. There was a commotion along the whole
line. The jungle was too dense for us to see anything. It was one more
proof how these hill tigers will lie close, even in the midst of a
line.
S. called out to me to remain quiet, and see if we could trace the
tiger's progress by any rustling in the cover. Looking down we saw the
kill, close to the edge of the water. A fast elephant was sent on
ahead, to try and ascertain whether the tiger was likely to break
beyond the circle of the little basin-shaped valley. We gathered round
the kill; it was quite fresh; a young buffalo. The Major told us that
in his experience, a male tiger always begins on the neck first. A
female always at the hind quarters. A few mouthfuls only had been
eaten, and according to the Major, it must have been a tigress, as the
part devoured was from the hind quarters.
While we were talking over these things, a frenzied shout from the
driver of our naka elephant caused us to look in his direction. He was
gesticulating wildly, and bawling at the top of his voice, 'Come, come
quickly, sahibs, the tiger is running away.'
Now commenced such a mad and hurried scramble as I have never
witnessed before or since, from the back of an elephant. As we tore
through the tangled dense green patair, the broad leaves crackled like
crashing branches, the huge elephants surged ahead like ships rocking
in a gale of wind, and the mahouts and attendants on the pad
elephants, shouted and urged on their shuffling animals, by excited
cries and resounding whacks.
In the retinue of the Major, were several men with elephant spears or
goads. These consist of a long, pliant, polished bamboo, with a sharp
spike at the end, which they call a _jhetha_. These men now came
hurrying round the ridge, among the opener grass, and as we emerged
from the heavy cover, they began goading the elephants behind and
urging them to their most furious pace. On ahead, nearly a quarter of
a mile away, we could see a huge tiger making off for the distant
morung, at a rapid sling trot. His lithe body shone before us, and
urged us to the most desperate efforts. It was almost a bare plateau.
There was scarcely any cover, only here and there a few stunted acacia
bushes. The dense forest was two or three miles ahead, but there were
several nasty steep banks, and precipitous gullies with deep water
rushing between. Attached to each Nepaulee pad, by a stout
curiously-plaited cord, ornamented with fancy knots and tassels of
silk, was a small pestle-shaped instrument, not unlike an auctioneer's
hammer. It was quaintly carved, and studded with short, blunt,
shining, brass nails or spikes. I had noticed these hanging down from
the pads, and had often wondered what they were for. I was now to see
them used. While the mahouts in front rained a shower of blows on the
elephants head, and the spear-men pricked him up from behind with
their jhethas, the occupant of the pad, turning round with his face to
the tail, belaboured the poor hathee with the auctioneer's hammer. The
blows rattled on the elephant's rump. The brutes trumpeted with pain,
but they _did_ put on the pace, and travelled as I never imagined an
elephant _could_ travel. Past bush and brake, down precipitous ravine,
over the stones, through the thorny scrub, dashing down a steep bank
here, plunging madly through a deep stream there, we shuffled along.
We must have been going fully seven miles an hour. The pestle-shaped
hammer is called a _lohath_, and most unmercifully were they wielded.
We were jostled and jolted, till every bone ached again. Clouds of
dust were driven before our reeling waving line. How the Nepaulese
shouted and capered. We were all mad with excitement. I shouted with
the rest. The fat little Major kicked his heels against the sides of
his elephant, as if he were spurring a Derby winner to victory. Our
usually sedate captain yelled--actually yelled!--in an agony of
excitement, and tried to execute a war dance of his own on the floor
of his howdah. Our guns rattled, the chains clanked and jangled, the
howdahs rocked and pitched from side to side. We made a desperate
effort. The poor elephants made a gallant race of it. The foot men
perspired and swore, but it was not to be. Our striped friend had the
best of the start, and we gained not an inch upon him. To our
unspeakable mortification, he reached the dense cover on ahead, where
we might as well have sought for a needle in a haystack. Never,
however, shall I forget that mad headlong scramble. Fancy an elephant
steeple-chase. Reader, it was sublime; but we ached for it next day.
The old Major and his fleet racing elephants now left us, and our
jaded beasts took us slowly back in the direction of our camp. It was
a fine wild view on which we were now gazing. Behind us the dark
gloomy impenetrable morung, the home of ever-abiding fever and ague.
Behind that the countless multitude of hills, swelling here and
receding there, a jumbled heap of mighty peaks and fretted pinnacles,
with their glistening sides and dark shadowless ravines, their mighty
scaurs and their abrupt serrated edges showing out clearly and boldly
defined against the evening sky. Far to the right, the shining
river--a riband of burnished steel, for its waters were a deep steely
blue--rolled its swift flood along amid shining sand-banks. In front,
the vast undulating plain, with grove, and rill, and smoking hamlet,
stretched at our feet in a lovely panorama of blended and harmonious
colour. We were now high up above the plain, and the scene was one of
the finest I have ever witnessed in India. The wind had gone down, and
the oblique rays of the sun lit up the whole vast panorama with a
lurid light, which was heightened in effect by the dust-laden
atmosphere, and the volumes of smoke from the now distant fires,
hedging in the far horizon with curtains of threatening grandeur and
gloom. That far away canopy of dust and smoke formed a wonderful
contrast to the shining snow-capped hills behind. Altogether it was a
day to be remembered. I have seen no such strange and unearthly
combination of shade and colour in any landscape before or since.
On the way home we bagged a florican and a very fine mallard, and
reached the camp utterly fagged, to find our worthy magistrate very
much recovered, and glad to congratulate us on our having bagged the
tigress. After a plunge in the river, and a rare camp dinner--such a
meal as only an Indian sportsman can procure--we lay back in our cane
chairs, and while the fragrant smoke from the mild Manilla curled
lovingly about the roof of the tent, we discussed the day's
proceedings, and fought our battles over again.
A rather animated discussion arose about the length of the tiger--as
to its frame merely, and we wondered what difference the skin would
make in the length of the animal. As it was a point we had never heard
mooted before, we determined to see for ourselves. We accordingly went
out into the beautiful moonlight, and superintended the skinning of
the tigress. The skin was taken off most artistically. We had
carefully measured the animal before skinning. She was exactly nine
feet long. We found the skin made a difference of only four inches,
the bare skeleton from tip of nose to extreme point of tail measuring
eight feet eight inches.
As an instance of tigers taking to trees, our worthy magistrate
related that in Rajmehal he and a friend had wounded a tiger, and
subsequently lost him in the jungle. In vain they searched in every
conceivable direction, but could find no trace of him. They were about
giving up in despair, when S., raising his hat, happened to look up,
and there, on a large bough directly overhead, he saw the wounded
tiger lying extended at full length, some eighteen feet from the
ground. They were not long in leaving the dangerous vicinity, and it
was not long either ere a well-directed shot brought the tiger down
from his elevated perch.
These after-dinner stories are not the least enjoyable part of a
tiger-hunting party. Round the camp table in a snug, well-lighted
tent, with all the 'materials' handy, I have listened to many a tale
of thrilling adventure. S. was full of reminiscences, and having seen
a deal of tiger shooting in various parts of India, his recollections
were much appreciated. To shew that the principal danger in tiger
shooting is not from the tiger himself, but from one's elephant
becoming panic-stricken and bolting, he told how a Mr. Aubert, a
Benares planter, lost his life. A tiger had been 'spined' by a shot,
and the line gathered round the prostrate monster to watch its
death-struggle. The elephant on which the unfortunate planter sat got
demoralised and attempted to bolt. The mahout endeavoured to check its
rush, and in desperation the elephant charged straight down, close
past the tiger, which lay writhing and roaring under a huge
overhanging tree. The elephant was rushing directly under this tree,
and a large branch would have swept howdah and everything it contained
clean off the elephant's back, as easily as one would brush off a fly.
To save himself Aubert made a leap for the branch, the elephant
forging madly ahead; and the howdah, being smashed like match-wood,
fell on the tiger below, who was tearing and clawing at everything
within his reach. Poor Aubert got hold of the branch with his hands,
and clung with all the desperation of one fighting for his life. He
was right above the wounded tiger, but his grasp on the tree was not a
firm one. For a moment he hung suspended above the furious animal,
which, mad with agony and fury, was a picture of demoniac rage. The
poor fellow could hold no longer, and fell right on the tiger. It was
nearly at its last gasp, but it caught hold of Aubert by the foot, and
in a final paroxysm of pain and rage chawed the foot clean off, and
the poor fellow died next day from the shock and loss of blood. He was
one of four brothers who all met untimely deaths from accidents. This
one was killed by the tiger, another was thrown from a vehicle and
killed on the spot, the third was drowned, and the fourth shot by
accident.
Our bag to-day was one tiger, one florican, one mallard, and two
widgeon. On cutting the tiger open, we found that the bullet had
entered on the left side, and, as we suspected, had entered the lungs.
It had, however, made a terrible wound. We found that it had
penetrated the heart and liver, gone forward through the chest, and
smashed the right shoulder. Notwithstanding this fearful wound,
shewing the tremendous effects of the Express bullet, the tiger had
gone on for the distance I have mentioned, after which it must have
fallen stone-dead. It was a marvellous instance of vitality, even
after the heart, liver, and lungs had been pierced. The liver had six
lobes, and it was then I heard for the first time, that with the
natives this was an infallible sign of the age of a tiger. The old
Major firmly believed it, and told us it was quite an accepted article
of faith with all native sportsmen. Facts subsequently came under my
own observation which seemed to give great probability to the theory,
but it is one on which I would not like to give a decided opinion,
till after hearing the experiences of other sportsmen.