Democratic Sentinel, Volume 17, Number 50, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 December 1893 — HE TIGER’S BREATH. [ARTICLE]

HE TIGER’S BREATH.

BY HENRY W. FRENCH.

“Why do you put me up in a tree, Oomerkahn, while the barra saheb stands on the ground? Do you think me a a coward?’’ Oomerkahn touched his closed hands solemnly to his dark forehead as he replied, “The bravest man, saheb, is not safe to face the tiger, till he has felt the tiger’s breath.” I had heard that proverb before, but never supposed that it really meant any more than my own nursery rhyme about salt on the diokey bird’s tail. There was no help for it, however, for Oomerkahn was conducting the hunt, so I accepted his proverb as a polite way of assuring me that in reality he did not consider me a coward, and disposed of myself upon the branch where he directed, mentally resolving to be on the alert till I showed the stately Hindu his mistake, and then gave him a piece of my offended mind. This was my first experience, and I felt as brave as anyone has a right to under such circumstances. I was a novice in India and my host, the “barra saheb,” as he was called about his plantation, had taken me into the hills for an initiation. No sooner had we arrived at his plantation than there came an appeal from the nearest village that he rid them of a man-eating tiger that had settled in their neighborhood. Oomerkahn was the native superintendent of my host’s farm and at once reoeived his orders to organize a hunt. There were several guests, all well mounted, and early in the morning we rode out to the village. The tiger had been located in a jungle two miles away. He had made an extraordinary raid the night before, taking both a man and a calf before he was satisfied, and there was no doubt about finding him ensconced in his lair, sleeping off the effects. Oomerkahn arranged us, first in a halfoircle, 200 yards from the jungle, while he, at the head of a hundred or more natives, entered the dense grove from the opposite side. They were the beaters, and with sticks and torches and tom-toms and strong lungs they began the greatest racket possible. They were arranged in a long line and worked their way toward us, intent on frightening the tiger out of the jungle into our semi-circle, where, according to the position in which he appeared, we were to have our turns at shooting. It was an hour of intense excitement, each hoping the tiger would show himself in his particular division, but the beaters came out without finding him at all. They were thoroughly exhausted and deolared that the tiger was not there, “ But I tell you that he is!” exclaimed our host, impatiently. “No tiger ever started on a pilgimage after such a supper as he had last night.” He dismounted, and leaving his horse with a coolie he deliberately entered the jungle on foot. Seeing this, we all followed his example, in spite of a caution from Oomerkahn. The barra saheb was an experienced tiger hunter, and in half an hour he pointed to a dark spot under some bushes, saying to a coolie, “ Throw a stone in there.” The stone disappeared without striking anything. “ There’s a hole there at all events, ” the barra saheb muttered, himself creeping a little nearer and throwing in a larger stone with all his strength. Suddenly the air began to tremble. There was no distinct sound, but it was like the first breath of a great organ. “He is there,” said the barra saheb, and it was then that Oomerkahn hastily placed his forces, which resulted in my being safely lodged on the limb, with what I considered a doubtful compliment Then the order was given to burn him out, and while Oomerkahn and one or two coolies built a fire as close to the mouth of the cave as possible, the barra saheb took a position beside the trank of a tree directly in front and perhaps iWftT. The jungle was so thick that not a ray of sunlight fell anywhere about us.

It was like twilight, nnd the fire lit it up with a frightful, ghostly glare, while on every side sounded the cries of frightened birds and animals. As soon as the fire was burning well the coolies crept away, while Oomerkahn caught some of the blaziDg sticks, threw them directly into the mouth of the cave aud sprang back. He was .none too quick. 1 saw the barra saheb’s rifle leap to his shoulder. His acute ear had caught a change in those deep, rumbling notes to which we were becoming accustomed. In his haste the Hindu had stumbled and fallen upon his back. The next instant the very ground seemed to shake as the air had trembled before. There was a terrific crash, like a sharp peal of thunder. A huge form burst from the shubbery half concealing the entrance to the cava aud a royal Bengal tiger was literally gliding through the air. He swept like a dark cloud oV6T the darting flames and prostrate form of Oomerkahn. Hi 3 huge fore paws were extended. His eyts were shut. His great jaws, which had so recently crushed the life out of a human being, were stretched wide open. His long, savage teeth gleamed in the firelight as be passed over it.

He was not leaping toward me. He could not by any possibility reach me, yet the sound of that roar and the sight of that huge, tawny body as it swept the flames filled me with such terror as I never felt before. It caught my breath away. My heart stood still. I clutched my rifle, utterly helpless. No. I was not to be trusted to face a tiger. There was no doubt of that. In blank astonishment I saw the kara saheb standing calmly by the tree. I saw the flash and heard the report of his rifle as the ferocious beast came abreast of him. I saw him lean behind the tree as he fired, and the next next instant, with a wild yell, the tiger struck the ground not five feet from where the barra saheb had stood. For a moment it lay coiled where it fell, a great mass of fur, then ?avo one fearful contortion and stretched tself to its full length, shuddered and died. Dven then I trembled from head to foot as I ciimbed down from the tree, and hardly dured to approach the lifeless mass. I did my best to be markedly civil to Oomerkahn through the rest of the day, and quietly made up my mind that it would take more than feeling a tiger’s breath to make me safe to face a tiger. It is strange how easy it is to leap from one conclusion to its opposite; but I had an opportunity to discover another mistake a short time afterward. Mounted on elephants, my friend and I were making a trip iDto the interior toward my destination. The weather was so hot that we rode early in the morning and just before dark. I was sitting in my howdah, half asleep from the effect of the heat and the peculiar motion of the elephant, when I was suddenly roused by a shrill shriek from the elephant, accompanied by a quick jerk, a sharp ejaculation from the mahoot sitting on his head and a loud cry from my friend, who was riding not far behind. Opening my eyes, the first thing I saw was a tiger in midair, apparently flying directly toward me. Altogether the situation was thoroughly bewildering, and I confess that from the start my wits forsook me.

Thanks to the sudden lurch of the elephant, whioh was for that express purpose, the tiger missed his aim, and instead of striking the howdah he hit upon the elephant’s haunch, where his gleaming, yellow claws sank into the thick hide. For an instant he hung there without another motion, looking directly up at me. “He’ll begin to climb in a second,” my friend shouted, hurrying on behind, while my own elephant moved faster and foster in an effort to dislodge his burden. “ Aim for his breast. Shoot steady and sure. Don’t miss him for your life.” One who has never faced a tiger will doubtless think it simple cowardice, though I have met many old tiger hunters who have recounted the same experience at the start—yet, had it not been for that warning call from my friend, I positively doubt If I should have once thought of my rifle. As it was, I lifted it mechanically to my shoulder. I did not trouble myself about the aim, for I could not take my eves from that savage faoe. I was thoroughly benumbed and bewildered. My hand shook so that more than once my finger slipped from the trigger before I mustered strength enough to pull. The moment the report sounded the mahoot turned the elephant sharply to one side. That is one of the common regulations of tiger hunting with elephants, when the tiger is lodged, in order to throw him off before he can do any damage in case he is not instantly killed. It was new to me, however, and I was not prepared for it. As the tiger fell to the ground, with a fierce howl, I came within an inch of following him. Fortunately, I landed upon the very edge of the howdah and held on.

The next I knew my friend was shouting again. “Look out for him!” he cried. “He’s only wounded. He’ll spring! Load quick ana finish him the minute he lands!” So long as I was not facing the tiger I could move quiokly enough. A. fresh cartridge was in plaoe in no time; but the elephant had not gone twenty feet when the tiger lunged, t,ore the earth for an instant, precisely as I have seen a cat attempt to tear a rug, then made two catlike bounds and another flying leap, landing, in spite of the elephant, within six inches of the mahoot, sitting upon his head. The native lost his turban and only escaped being trampled upon by dipping down the elephant’s trunk. Beyond that, however, the tiger did not pay him the slightest attention. His eyes were fixed on me. He was making for the howdah. His red and quivering gullet and glistening. teeth were already on a level with my feet. I stood there petrified, looking down into that yawning cavern out of which the hoarse breath came in short, harsh gasps. “ Give it to him! Give it to him!’’ my friend shouted. I heard his words as though they came from a phonograph and had no connection with me. I knew the danger I was in, and that there was no time to lose, but I was absolutely powerless. The tiger began to crawl toward me. “Shoot! shoot!” my friend yelled, and I tried to; but though the hammer was already raised and the rifle pointed in the direction of the tiger, I could not even lift it to my shoulder. I could not even pull the trigger where it was. The tiger took another step. One great paw rested on my boot. I could feel the sharp claws cutting through the leather. I could feel the hot breath on my hands as it came rasping out of that yawning throat. I heard my friend’s voice again and realized that he had come up close beside me, but this time I could not distinguish a word be said. I could see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing, but that tiger. The muzzle of the gun was in the

creature’s way. He caught it in his jaws and gave it a savage jerk. The involuntary action of my muscles in clutching the rifle, to prevent its being torn away, pulled the trigger. The tiger recoiled and with one spasm fell dead upon the ground. The bullet had pierced the roof of his mouth and lodged in his brain, thanks only to himself.—[St. Louis Re.