Democratic Sentinel, Volume 16, Number 2, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 January 1892 — RASH DRINK OF WATER. [ARTICLE]

RASH DRINK OF WATER.

*1 It Almost Cost a Hunter tn India Hli Life. A correspondent sends to the Youth’s Companion an account of his experience in killing a tiger. He was traveling through India on official business, and in one of the villages heard of tiger which committed nightly depredations. He bought a calf for bait, and the natives took it to a point outside the village and fastened it to a stake under a convenient tree, where,a branch, some twenty feet from 'the ground, hung over it. Just before night, armed with two rifles and two pistols, all the firearms I had with me, I established myself alone upon that branch. I did not even take my one servant with me. He would only have gone to sleep and fallen to the ground.

Quietly I prepared for business. I hung my ammunition belt over the limb, where I could reach it easily. My pistol belt I hung beside it, with one pistol on each side, so that I could lay my hand upon either instantly. One rifle I balanced against the tree, and as there was no place l’or the other, I hcldit in my hand. All was ready, and I patiently waited. An hour went by and the moon rose, making it almost as light as day. I could see everything. I had chosen this spot because there was a spring not far from the tree, and the first thing the tiger would look for after lying all day in the jungle would bo a drink of water. If he came there to drink he would be sure to see and hear the calf, and make for it at once.

Between the tree and the spring stood a cluster of low shrubs. Beyond the spring there was ‘ open country, and then the jungle whence I supposed the tiger must come. I had not taken my eyes from it, but though 1 could see even the jackals on the edge of the jungle, there was no tiger. Another hour went by. I was growing sleepy, and seeing no danger I took my gun and went to the spring for a drink. I was slowly walking back to the tree when the struggles of the calf attracted my attention. It was making a most peculiar noise, and a low growl came from the bushes between me and the tree. If blood can run cold, I am sure mine did at that moment. There I stood in an open plain, with just one shot at my command, and a tiger between me and my only refuge. He had evidently been there for some time. He had seen me in the tree, and had been waiting for me to go before he dared to touch the calf. If he was growling now at the calf, preparing for a meal, there was hope for me; but if he was growling at my coming back, it meant that he was ready to spring upon me, and there was not one atom of hope. I did not dare to move. The calf kept up its crying, and the low, ominous purring never ceased. Then each noise grew a little more emphatic, and it was evident that between us two the tiger had decided upon the calf. A little later I saw his huge form stealthily moving about the tree. He was evidently afraid of some trick, and was investigating. I did not move till he made the leap. Then I hurried up behind the bushes, and could see him crouching over the poor calf, drinking its blood. It was impossible for me to reach the tree. Now, if ever, was my chance. One shot must do the work. I aimed at his head and fired. I saw him loose his hold, heard him give one savage yelp, and then, to my horror, saw him turn, gnashing his teeth furiously, and come creeping toward the bushes.

I sank down on my knees to get as much shelter as possible, and waited for what seemed as sure a death as ever faced a man. But the growling subsided into a hoarse breathing. Was the tiger dying? I cautiously rose till 1 could see through the upper branches. Two bright, yellow eyes, like fire-balls, and a sharp growl sent me to my knees again. The tiger is a coward and slow to spring upon what he cannot see. He is naturally patient, also, and for the present I dared not be otherwise than patient. So we waited. The rough ground tortured my knees till I thought I would almost rather die than bear the pain longer. Then the breeze would stir the leaves, and a low growl would convince me that I had better bear it a little longer, after all. It was a long time before I dared risk another look. There was nothing there! I crept from my hidingplace. The calf lay dead beneath the tree. The next moment I saw the tiger, almost half way to the jungle, lying stone-dead upon the ground.