Part 1

ANECDOTES OF BIG CATS AND OTHER BEASTS

Our good and true stories shall lighten our ills, And songs to us comfort shall bring, As long as the waters run down from the hills, And trees bud afresh in the Spring.

ANECDOTES OF BIG CATS AND OTHER BEASTS

BY DAVID WILSON

THE BETTER THAT WE SEE THROUGH MEN, THE GLADDER LOOK AT BEASTS AGAIN.

METHUEN & CO. LTD. 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. LONDON

First Published in 1910

This book may be translated into any language without payment.

CONTENTS

PAGE I. Three Men Together 1 II. The Wonderful Escape of "Tiger-Hill" 10 III. Sherlock Holmes in a Wood 19 IV. Where Tigers Flourish-- 1. Tigers in the Air 27 2. Tigers Victorious 29 3. Working Alongside 32 4. At very Close Quarters 36 5. The Charge of the Tigress 41 V. The Girl and the Tigress 46 VI. The Old Men and the Tiger 54 VII. Recovering the Corpse 58 VIII. The Inspector's Escape 62 IX. The Sound of Humanity 67 X. The Tiger at the Rifle-range 74 XI. A Lesson from the Water Buffalo-- 1. The Buffalo and the Skunk 84 2. Hunting the Buffalo 87 3. Taming the Buffalo 88 XII. The Buffalo and the Crocodile 93 XIII. A Nest of Crocodiles 97 XIV. Useful Snakes 107 XV. The Tucktoo 110 XVI. The Kitten's Catch 113 XVII. The Leopard as a Killer of Men-- 1. Twice Twenty Years Ago or More 118 2. A Leopard that Loved the Ladies 122 3. No Man Comes Amiss 124 4. Its Way of Doing 125 5. The Final Fight 129 XVIII. On Heads in General 133 XIX. The Unfinished Speech and Dance 139 XX. The Big Pet Cat 145 XXI. The Leopard that Needed a Dentist 150 XXII. The Devil as a Leopard 152 XXIII. The Gallant Leopard 159 XXIV. A Dumb Appeal put into Words 166 XXV. The Fox in the Suez Canal 171 XXVI. Solidarity among the Brutes-- 1. Elephants 175 2. The Baboons and the Leopards 178 3. The Indian Baboons and the Bear 181 4. Simla Monkeys 186 5. Co-operation 191 XXVII. A Run for Life 194 XXVIII. Mother's Love among the Monkeys 196 XXIX. Exit the Hunter-- 1. Up to Date 198 2. The Lion in Death 201 3. Killing Tigers and Apes 205 4. The Happy Hunter 209 5. The Use of Hunting 213 6. Irresistible Evolution 214 XXX. Charlie Darwin, or the Lady-Gibbon-- Explanatory Note 216 1. Children of Air, in General 216 2. Charlie Darwin 220 3. Running Away 225 4. Settling Down 228 5. Teasing Tom 233 6. Evening and Morning 238 7. Table Manners 242 8. Dogs 245 9. Equality is Equity 246 10. Where Civilisation Began 248 11. Filial Feeling 251 12. Agreeable Sensations 255 13. Corroborating Aristotle & Co. 260 14. The Last Chapter 265 XXXI. The Brief Biography of a Little Bear-- 1. Early Days 271 2. Up the Chimney 276 3. At a Railway Station 279 4. A Breakfast at Ye-U 281 5. The Bear and the Perambulator 285 6. Life in a Country Town 287 7. The Wonderful Suckling 295 8. Harum-scarum 298 9. All the Rest 300 10. Her Epitaph 304 XXXII. A Chinese Hunter (740 B.C.) 307

ANECDOTES OF BIG CATS AND OTHER BEASTS

THREE MEN TOGETHER

The ideal hunter, like the ideal soldier or mountaineer, seaman or worker of any kind, "leaves nothing to chance"; yet in anticipating events he realises the limits of human foresight and remains continually wide-awake. Wellington has quoted Marshal Wrede's report of Napoleon's way of doing--to do from day to day what the circumstances require, but never have any general plan of campaign. That was how to rule circumstances by obeying them, as a seaman steering through the storm may be said to rule the waves. There are some occupations that allow more room for somnolence than others. Like the seaman afloat and the soldier in war, the man who is hunting big cats can ill afford to be caught napping. The consequences are apt to be sudden. It is a terrible thing to wake up from a nap with nothing to do but die.

Whether you are hunting thieves or tigers, you proceed by good guessing based on knowledge. There is no real difference between what is pompously called scientific reasoning and plain common-sense, as Huxley has elaborately shown. Thieves and tigers have their habits, like all living things, and need to eat to live. One of the commonest successful ways of coming to close quarters with "Mr Stripes" is to go to where he has been killing lately, and lie in ambush. If you persevere in doing that in the usual way, you are sure to meet the tiger in the long run; and perhaps, as happened to this writer in Burma, you may enjoy the pleasure of making his acquaintance with startling suddenness the very first time you try. So it is well to be ready for anything, lest you have a disagreeable experience, like three men in the Assam forests, whose adventure is worth telling, as a warning to beginners. The present writer heard it from Major Shaw (6th Gurkhas), in whom he has complete confidence. Of course it was in Assam that Major Shaw heard of it. For obvious reasons, no other names than his are given; and no superfluous details.

There is a public rest-house in the Assam woods, which was visited by a hungry tiger not many years ago. The caretaker (or "dirwan") was there at the time, but nobody else. The tiger took him away, and ate him.

Exactly how it was done remained unknown, as is usual in such cases. The men who are eaten by beasts of prey are generally like the crews of ships that never arrive, but remain for ever "missing." Not once in a thousand times can even the bones be found, and nothing was discovered in this instance, but nobody doubted what had happened. Nevertheless, a successor was soon installed in the dead man's place. The tiger called again; and once more the post became vacant, and a public servant was mysteriously "missing."

The caretaker of a rest-house, like the humble postman, is one of the few officials who appear to the non-official world to justify their existence. If it had been a forester or a policeman, a judge or a soldier, people would have shrugged their shoulders and said, "So much the worse for him." In the glad excitement of filling the vacancy, his colleagues would have forgotten him, and only his relatives, perhaps, if they had cause, lamented. But the caretakers of rest-houses are not luxuries but necessaries; and when either a second or a third man (Major Shaw could not recollect whether three caretakers or only two) had in this way disappeared into the hideous darkness that dimly veiled a hungry tiger, and there was a likelihood that travellers might be inconvenienced by the post remaining vacant, three men of public spirit arose and took their rifles, and went together to spend a night in the tiger-haunted bungalow, and give Mr Stripes a warm reception when he next came to call.

The oddest detail in the account of their preparations is that they fixed bayonets. The veranda was level with the floor of the building, apparently, and not far above the ground. It was reached from outside by a flight of steps, and ran along the front, with the doors of the rooms opening upon it. That was where the three men placed themselves, when they had finished dinner and arranged everything, fixed bayonets and all. They closed the doors, and supposed they were invisible, for the gleam of the lamplight was then restricted to the back and the side-windows. In front was only darkness visible. As they lay in wait there, the one in the middle would be where the caretaker was accustomed to lie, opposite the top of the stairs.

It must be remembered that the men perhaps expected to have to sit up several nights. They soon found what they had not expected, that it is very hard to keep awake, especially in a horizontal position, at the hour when you are usually asleep. Experienced hunters would have taken turns to lie in the middle wide-awake, and let the other men, on right and left, be at liberty to snooze. But these three men had been too excited to apprehend in advance the possibility of closing their eyes while waiting. They conversed in low whispers, and peered into the dark. Instead of coffee to keep them awake, as the night wore on, they drank whisky-and-soda.

The sound of a tropical forest is like London's noise, which never altogether stops, but what reached their ears was unexciting. The quadrupeds a-hunting were unseen, and flitted about as noiselessly as the clouds.

The three men slept. The man in the middle was suddenly jerked to his feet by the tight clasp of the tiger's jaws upon his forearm; and he staggered as it led him away, as if he had been a child. He was out of reach of his rifle before he was sufficiently awake to realise what was happening. It was afterwards conjectured that the tiger had been waiting below, and listening to their whispering, till the change of noises indicated sleep.

While the tiger, taking its man by the arm, was stepping downstairs, the man was thinking only, "I hope the bullet won't hit me." He never doubted that one of his companions was preparing to fire. But the other two men, awakened, and aware that the tiger had come, had taken refuge in a room, and supposed that he had done the same.

There was nothing very remarkable in the tiger pulling away the man in this way. That was probably how he had treated the caretakers. In their many millenniums of battle with mankind, and civilised mankind, not ill-armed negroes, such as make the lions bold, the tigers of the old world seem to have learned that the arms are the dangerous members of a man, like the poison fangs of a serpent, so that to seize them is to master him. There are many cases of a man being saved alive from a tiger by other men, when it was pulling him away by the arm; but I have never heard of any man so situated being able to deliver himself. In general, of course, it is easier to break a man's neck at once; but if you were a tiger, and your man were on a veranda, and had to be brought downstairs to be eaten comfortably, could you think of a better way than to pull him by the arm, and make him descend the stairs on his own legs? The tiger is a specialist in killing, and knows its business. It is not killing men that bothers the tiger, but catching them unawares.

So the tiger and the man together reached the bottom of the stairs without anything happening, and thence the tiger led towards the adjoining forest; but on the way the victim turned his face to the house as well as he could, and cried: "Are you fellows not going to help me?"

This was the first intimation of his fate to the other two. One of them came out and ran after the retreating figures of the tiger and the man disappearing down the pathway, going towards the woods, and overtook them in the nick of time. The shout had somehow affected the tiger too. He opened his jaws, and the mangled arm fell free; but a great paw was on the man's shoulder; and on the other shoulder another paw was now deliberately laid, and the tiger breathed in his face a deep, long exhalation--warm breath of a peculiar odour, that seemed to penetrate him.

Just then the pursuer arrived, and thrust his bayonet between the tiger's ribs, and pushed it in, and pulled the trigger. Then leaving the rifle there, feeling instinctively what Dr Johnson noticed in himself with surprise, when travelling in the Highlands, how willingly, in the dark, a man becomes "content to leave behind him everything but himself," he shouted "Follow me!" and ran back into the bungalow. The startled tiger had indeed let go its prey for the moment, but, seeing him run after the other man, it followed both; and, bounding up the stairs once more, it overtook at the top the man with the mangled arm, but only in time to give him a "smack on the back," which sent him flying through the doorway into the room where the others were. Then it died.

They washed the badly-bitten arm with whisky, having no medicaments of any kind. It would have been strange if they had had any, for men are so seldom hurt in tiger-shooting that nobody anticipates injury. They had nothing but whisky. So they poured it on, and "it nipped," at any-rate, which was, somehow, a comfort.

When the wounded man beheld himself in the looking-glass in the morning, he saw that his hair had suddenly grown grey in that one night. The third man, it is said, was delirious, with shame and remorse, because he had faltered. Meanwhile the tiger, growing stiff, lay dead on the veranda, just outside the door of the room, with a gaping wound in its side, like Thorwaldsen's lion at Lucerne.