Part 18

“For a long time our search was fruitless. We worked up to the head of the jungle without finding a vestige of the enemy. On our way back my coadjutor pointed to a thick corinda bush and said, ‘That is a likely spot.’ I looked, and there was the tiger, or rather tigress, standing in the centre of it. We fired together. There was a roar, a scuffle, and a dense cloud of smoke, under cover of which the tigress disappeared, having only been seen by the small boy in the back seat. The cover consisted entirely of detached bushes, so we felt sure she could not have gone far. At last we discovered a black hole flush with the ground. This we approached cautiously, and on peering down saw the legs of a recumbent tiger. We threw stones in, but the animal never moved; and on getting a view of her head, my friend put a ball through it. Three of us now got down into the den, and with much difficulty contrived to get the beast out without injuring the skin.”

Looking around once for a wounded tiger in the Nielgherries by night, Major Leveson and his party drove the beast into a patch of jungle, “not more than fifty yards long by twenty wide. Chinneah (the head shikári) threw a couple of lighted rockets into this retreat, which evidently annoyed him, although they had not the effect of causing the animal to break; it only set up a low angry growl that lasted for some time. Two or three times I saw the bushes shake as if it were about to spring; and once I caught a hurried glimpse of its outline, and threw up my rifle, but put it down again, as I did not like to fire a chance shot with an uncertain aim. Again Chinneah’s rockets flew hissing about the tiger, and caused him to move, for B---- caught sight of him and let drive right and left. Then out he sprang with an appalling roar, and struck down poor Ali, who, notwithstanding my orders, had separated himself from the rest in order to pick up a stone to throw into the bush. His piercing death shriek rang through the night air, striking terror to every heart; and although I knew that it was too late to save him, I determined that he should be revenged, and dashed forward towards the spot where the infuriated brute was savagely growling as it shook the senseless but quivering body. No sooner did I get a glimpse of the tiger than I knew I was perceived, for with a short angry roar he left the corpse, and crouched low upon the ground, with head down, back arched, and tail lashing his heaving flanks. At this moment ... carefully aiming between the eyes which glared upon me like balls of fire, I fired--he reared up at full length, and fell back dead.

“Vengeance satisfied, I went up to poor Ali, whom I found shockingly mutilated. His death must, however, have been instantaneous, as the tiger with the first blow had shattered his skull and scattered his brains about the spot.”

The hunting tiger is not the highest development of his species. He has not much to learn, compared with a man-eater, in order to adjust himself to the requirements of life; and the gaunt, somewhat undersized, active, hardy, shy and solitary beast, pursues the tenor of his way far from the habitations of men, of whom he is wary and distrustful, chiefly on account of their strangeness.

To a cattle-lifter life presents more diversified scenes. The way in which the animal lives implies a greater complexity of conditions to which he is required to adapt himself, and a corresponding development of faculty. This kind of tiger, except under circumstances which rarely occur, is both a game-killer and beef-eater. Few districts yield a constant supply in the way of cattle, and when that fails, necessity compels the marauder to hunt almost exclusively, or take to homicide. On the one hand, these creatures have the experiences and training of their brethren belonging to the wastes; on the other, they are to some extent brought into a certain relationship with human beings, become accustomed to them, observe their actions, and are familiarized during those plundering expeditions, by which they mainly support themselves, with a variety of things which are altogether outside the ordinary experiences of wild beasts. Of the two classes, it goes without saying that the latter must be the more evolved; for it is not more certain that, other things being equal, the man who has had most training will be most capable, than it is that the same effects will follow in the case of tigers.

Those regions inhabited by hunting tigers have not failed to contribute, through the influence of their associations and scenery, to that vague body of feeling and of imaginative impressions, which most persons carry with them concerning this suggestive animal. “Tigers,” remarks Sherwell, “are prone to haunt those crumbling works belonging to states and dynasties that have been swept away by war.” In the deserted fortress of Mahoor, says Major Bevan, they were “so abundant that a few matchlock-men, who had been kept there to guard the temple, were afraid to go occasionally to the arsenal to bring their ammunition.” The jungles and forests where game-killing tigers prowl for their prey are among those scenes in nature which no man who has appreciated their full significance ever forgets. “They who have never explored a primeval forest,” writes Leveson, “can have but a very faint impression of the mysterious effect that absence of light and intense depth of gloom ... the unbroken stillness and utter silence ... exert upon the mind.” They “create a strange feeling of awe and loneliness that depresses the spirits and appalls the hearts of those unaccustomed to wander in these solitudes.... Solitude is too insufficient a term to convey an idea of the overpowering sensation of desolation and abandonment that pervades these regions.”

Stranger, perhaps stronger than all else, is the bewildering feeling of contrast between the impressive actualities of one’s surroundings, and the spectral appearance of whatever the eye takes in. Peril may be imminent at every step, and yet all things seem unreal in that weird atmosphere in which they are seen. Animals look like the shadows of themselves. An elephant’s motionless, gigantic form, looming even larger than in life, will define itself upon the sight, vanish as you gaze, and by some new effect of light, reappear in the same spot and the same position. It is like being in the enchanted forests of old romances; and such impressions can scarcely have failed to influence many whose exploits were performed amid such scenes. Leveson, in a place like this, saw the only encounter that has been described between the tiger and a bison bull.

“Whilst hunting in the jungle between the Bowani River, and the Goodaloor Pass, at the foot of the Nedeniallah Hills, my friend Burton and I witnessed a most gallantly-contested fight between a bull bison and a tiger.... Night had scarcely set in when a loud bellowing was heard, followed by an unmistakable roar that caused no little commotion amongst the horses and bullocks that were picketed round our tents. From the ominous sounds which succeeded we knew that a mortal combat was raging at no great distance from our bivouac. Having arranged for the safety of our camp, Burton and I, armed with rifles and pistols, followed closely by Chinneah and Googooloo, each carrying a couple of spare guns, sallied forth; and keeping along the bank of the river for a short distance, entered the dense cover, from which the sounds of the contest seemed to issue, by a narrow deer-run. Here we could only get along very slowly, having to separate the tangled brushwood with one hand, and hold our rifles cocked and ready with the other. We proceeded in this manner for some distance, guided by the noise of the contest, which sounded nearer and nearer, and came to an opening in the woods where we saw a huge bull bison, evidently much excited, for his eyes flashed fire, his tail was straight on end, and he was tearing up the ground with his forefeet, all the while grunting furiously. As we were all, luckily, well to leeward, the taint in the air was not likely to be winded, so I made signs to the bearers to lay down their guns, and climb into an adjacent tree; while Burton and myself, with a rifle in each hand, by dint of creeping on our hands and knees, gained a small clump of bushes on a raised bank, and not more than thirty yards distant, whence we could see all that was going on. When we first arrived, the tiger was nowhere to be seen; but from the bison’s cautious movements, I knew he could not be far off. The moon was high in the heavens, making the night as clear as day; so not a movement could escape us, although we were well concealed from view.

“Several rounds had already been fought, for the game had been going on a good twenty minutes before we came up, and the bison, besides being covered with lather about the flanks, bore several severe marks of the tiger’s claws on the face and shoulders. Whilst we were ensconcing ourselves comfortably behind the cover, with our rifles in readiness for self-defence only,--for we had no intention of interfering in the fair stand-up fight which had evidently been taking place,--a low savage growling about fifteen paces to the right attracted our attention; and crouched behind a tuft of fern, we discerned the shape of an immense tiger watching the movements of the bison, which, with his head kept constantly turned towards the danger, was alternately cropping the grass, and giving vent to his excited feelings every now and then by a deep, tremulous roaring, which seemed to awaken all the echoes of the surrounding woods. The tiger, whose glaring eyes were fixed upon his antagonist, now and again shifted his quarters a few paces either to the right or the left, once coming so near our ambuscade that I could almost have touched him with the muzzle of my rifle; but the wary old bull never lost sight of him for a second, and ever followed his motions with his head lowered to receive an attack. At last the tiger, which all along had been whining and growling most impatiently, stole gently forward, his belly crouching along the ground, every hair standing on end, his flanks heaving, his back arched, and his tail whisking about and lashing his sides; but before he could gather himself together for a spring which might have proved fatal, the bison, with a shriek of desperation, charged at full speed, with his head lowered and the horns pointed upward, but overshot the mark, as his antagonist adroitly shifted his ground just in time to avoid a vicious stroke from the massive horns. Then making a half circle, he sprang with the intention of alighting on the bison’s broad neck and shoulders. This the bull evaded by a dexterous twist; and before his adversary could recover himself, he again rushed at him, caught him behind the shoulders with his horns, and flung him some distance, following up to repeat the move, but the tiger slunk away to gather breath.

“Round after round of the same kind followed, allowing breathing-time between each, the tiger generally getting the worst of it, for the bull sometimes received his rush on his massive forehead and horns, and threw him a considerable distance, bruised and breathless, although his skin seemed to be too tough for the points to penetrate. Once, however, I thought the bison’s chance was all over, for the tiger, by a lucky spring, managed to fasten on his brawny shoulder, and I could hear the crunching sound of his teeth meeting again and again in the flesh, while the claws tore the flank like an iron rake. With a maddening scream of mingled rage and pain, the bull flung himself heavily on the ground, nearly crushing his nimble adversary to death with his ponderous weight; and the tiger, breathless and reeling with exhaustion, endeavored to slink away with his tail between his legs. But no respite was given, his relentless foe pursued with roars of vengeance, and again rolled him over before he could regain his legs to make another spring. The tiger, now fairly conquered, endeavored to beat a retreat, but this the bison would not allow. He rushed at him furiously over and over again; and at last, getting him against a bank of earth, pounded him with his forehead and horns until he lay motionless, when he sprang with his whole weight upon him, striking him with the forefeet, and displaying an agility I thought incompatible with his unwieldy appearance.

“The combat, which had lasted over a couple of hours, was now over, for the tiger, which we thought might be only stunned, gave unmistakable signs of approaching dissolution. He lay gasping, his mouth half open, exposing his rough tongue and massive yellow teeth. His eyes were fixed, convulsive struggles drew up his limbs, a quiver passed over his body, and all was still. His conqueror was standing over him with heaving flanks, and crimsoned foam flying from his widely distended nostrils; but his rolling eye was becoming dim, for the life-blood was fast ebbing from a ghastly wound in the neck, and he reeled about like a drunken man, still, however, fronting his dead enemy, and keeping his horns lowered as if to charge. From time to time he bellowed with rage, but his voice became fainter, and at last subsided into a deep hollow moan. Then his mighty strength failed him, and he could not keep on his legs, which seemed to bend slowly, causing him to plunge forward. Again he made a desperate effort to recover himself, staggered a few paces, and with a surly growl of defiance, fell never to rise again; for, after a few convulsive heavings, his body became motionless, and we knew that all was over.”

How often a conflict between animals so formidable ends in the assailant’s repulse or death, we do not know, neither can we say whether bisons are habitually attacked by tigers. Lions destroy the African buffalo either singly or by taking odds; and in a personal contest, the tiger would generally have the advantage over a lion. They have often been pitted against each other, and the general result is well known to be as stated. Gunga, who belonged to the King of Oude, killed thirty lions, and destroyed another after being transferred to the zoölogical garden in London.

When the young tiger first makes his appearance among the fastnesses of forests, he is one foot long, has but little coat, although his stripes can be seen, and is blind. On the eighth or tenth day his eyes open, and by that time he has grown four inches and a half. At nine months the length is five feet, and at the expiration of a year he measures five feet eight inches. When two years of age the male’s length from tip to tip is about seven feet six inches, and that of the tigress seven feet. Between the second and third year they separate from their mother. While in the days of his youth the lodia bagh makes indiscriminate war upon the brute creation, commits unnecessary murders, stalks his prey instead of surprising it, and, Leveson and others assert, chases it like the cheetah. But time diminishes nervous energy, and leaves him, like all other beings, bereft of the incitements its excess engenders. Experience warns him against the consequences of temerity, and he grows lazy. Then these animals take to ambushing deer-runs and drinking places; they round up game by moving round and roaring; they practise upon the curiosity which besets the Cervidæ; and partly show themselves in the jungle to tempt an axis deer to a closer inspection; they are also said to bark in imitation of the sambur stag, in order to lure a doe or some pugnacious buck, within reach of a rush.

As for the beast that takes to man-eating, what was most probably at first an accidental event, now becomes the occupation of its life. In the first place it encountered men casually, now this is done with intention. He must study the habits of his game, and that he does so, is attested by his fatal success. Adme khane wallah, the eater of men, glares upon them from every “coign of vantage”; he discriminates between individuals, classes, and occupations, he learns the ways of farmers and woodcutters, of women who wash by the stream, of mail-carriers, and travellers on roads, of priests who serve at lonely shrines.

No country is so favorable for his exploits as India. The endless divisions of its people into castes or professions is destructive to unanimity of feeling and combined action. The “gentle Hindu,” who is one of the most callous and unsympathetic of mankind, folds his hands when one of his co-religionists has been carried off, and says that Kali probably sent the tiger for that especial purpose, so what has he to do with it? His Mussulman acquaintance twists his mustache, and mutters, Ul-humd-ul-illa, praise be to God, this man was only an infidel, and it was his destiny! They cannot act together, and formerly matters were worse than they are now.

Nothing could suit the prowling tiger better than these isolated settlements with their careless, nearly defenceless inhabitants, the by-ways and wastes that separate them. When he has once killed a man, and has discovered the creature’s feebleness, those horrors so often recorded follow as matters of course. Henceforth, nobody is safe beyond the walls of his town or dwelling. Occasionally not even there, for the man-eater combines the extremes of conduct,--excessive wariness and desperate audacity.

There is no necessity to multiply references as to the fact that these tigers are audacious,--that is generally known to be the case; but it is well to remember in connection with their relations to mankind, that they are apt to become panic-stricken at anything which appears strange and unaccountable. Colonel Pollok preserves an incident (“Sport in British Burmah”) which illustrates their enterprise, and yet shows how they become confused, incapable, and appalled by whatever is beyond comprehension,--a feature in the animal’s character, by the way, which is much more creditable to its intellect than derogatory to its courage.

Hill, the officer to whom the adventure happened, relates his own experiences. He was out with a body of native troops after some Shan mutineers at the time, and in a country that Crawfurd, Colonel Yule, Hallett, Colquhoun, etc., speak of as much infested by tigers. At Yonzaleem a report was brought to him that a scourge of this kind was in the neighborhood, and that fifteen men had been killed in a month; but duty called, and there was no time in which to go hunting. “We were travelling along a mountain pathway fringed with bamboo-like grass,” Hill says, “and I was leading the way about thirty paces, perhaps, in front of the party, followed at a little distance by my lugelay, or Burmese boy, carrying my loaded gun. I had nothing in my hand but my oak stick, but you know what a shillelah it is, and what a thundering blow can be given with it. It was still early, and as I was trudging along carelessly, the men behind me jabbering and talking, I heard a slight noise on the edge of the pathway to my right; for a second I paid no attention to it, but thinking it might be a jungle-fowl or a pheasant, I beckoned to the boy to give me my gun. He had loitered behind, and before he could reach me, by slow degrees out came the head of an enormous tiger, close to me, almost within hitting distance. Unfortunately my lad, and the Burmese escort, saw it too, and halted, calling out ‘The tiger! the tiger! he will be killed! he will be killed!’ meaning me. I did not take my eyes off the tiger’s, but put my hand behind my back, saying in Burmese to the boy, ‘Give me my gun;’ but he and the others only kept jabbering, ‘He will be killed! he will be killed!’ Not a man stirred, though they were all armed and loaded. So there we were, the tiger and I, face to face. At last, thinking to frighten it away, I lifted the stick and pretended to hit it a back-handed blow, at the same time making a sort of yelling noise. The stick was over my left shoulder, but so far from being intimidated, the tiger rushed at me, and I caught him a blow on the side of the head and floored him.

“Seeing him pick himself up with his back towards me, I thought he was going to bolt, and for the first time turned round, and said, ‘Now give me my gun.’ Before the words were well out of my mouth, my stick was sent flying, my right hand pinned to my side by one of his hind claws, and one of his fore-paws on my shoulder and back, and he stood over me growling in a most diabolical manner. I bent my back, stuck out my legs, and with my left arm struck towards my right shoulder at the brute’s face, which was towering over me, snarling and growling like the very devil. Suddenly, with an infernal roar, he struck me on the neck, and down I went as if I had been shot, the tiger turning a somersault over me, and falling on his back. In a second, in my endeavors to get up, I was on my hands and knees, the blood pouring over my face, beard and chest, giving me, I have no doubt, a most satanic appearance. As the tiger recovered we met face to face. He looked at me, seemed to think that by some strange metamorphosis, from a two-legged man, whom he despised, I had become some kind of a four-legged monster like himself, put his tail between his legs, and bolted for his life.”

This is a very disconcerting account for those who assert that the tiger is always dazed by daylight, and a coward at all times; that he shrinks from the sight and scent of human beings, flies from the sound of the human voice, and quails before the glance of a man’s eye.

Colonel Pollok (“Natural History Notes”) says he “never heard of a black tiger,” but that he has “seen the skins of three white ones; two entirely white and the other faintly marked with yellow stripes.” These came from the mountains of Indo-China. In the Himalayas they have been shot at an elevation of eight thousand feet above the sea, and, besides being what is called white, were maned. J. W. Atkinson (“Travels on the Upper and Lower Amoor”) tells of a young Kirghis who, while carrying off his bride, camped on this river and lost her there by a tiger’s attack. He threw away his own life in following this animal, dagger in hand, into the reeds. This does not always happen so by any means. Asiatics do what Europeans cannot attempt. It is well known that the Ghoorkas kill tigers with their celebrated knives; but we do not hear how many of them are destroyed in such combats. Captain Basil Hall (“Travels in India”) saw a Hindu (using one of these weapons) meet a tiger at a Rajah’s court, evade his spring, hamstring him as he passed, and cut through his neck into the spinal cord when the brute turned. In ancient times that class of gladiators called Bestiarii, encountered tigers in the Roman arena; and if one may judge from notices that are rather vague, they were pretty generally expended. The Brinjarries, says Forsyth, sometimes, assisted by their dogs, assail them with lances; and they were certainly killed by arrows at one period, but in what proportion to those whom they slew is unknown.

Certain traits are common to all the race; and as a summary of the foregoing, the appended remarks and illustrations will not be out of place. Wherever the tiger is found, water, despite Colonel Barras’ solitary voice to the contrary, must be near. He drinks much and often, and cannot live in arid places. Therefore it is that the time to hunt him in India is during the hot season. Those spots where he resorts for water, and what is equally necessary to him, shade, are well known in all parts where he is to be found; and it is there that buffaloes--young ones, for an ordinarily fastidious tiger will not touch an old, tough animal--are tied up. When taken, his trail is followed to the spot where he makes his lair.

There is one exception, however, to all rules that usually govern the pursuit of tigers. When a man-eater is the object, the trailing must go on all day and every day until this monster is run down. No better example of what is to be done under these circumstances can be given than Captain Forsyth’s narrative of his own exploit in the Bétúl jungle.

“I spent nearly a week ... in the destruction of a famous man-eater, that had completely closed several roads, and was estimated to have devoured over a hundred human beings. One of these roads was the main outlet from the Bétúl teak forests, towards the railway under construction in the Harbadá valley; and the work of the sleeper-contractors was completely at a stand-still, owing to the ravages of this brute. He occupied regularly a large triangle of country between the rivers Móran and Ganjál; occasionally making a tour of destruction much further to the east and west, and striking terror into a breadth of not less than thirty or forty miles. It was therefore supposed that the devastation was caused by more than one animal; and we thought we had disposed of one of these early in April, when we killed a very cunning old tiger of evil repute after several days’ severe hunting. But I am now certain that the one I destroyed subsequently was the real malefactor, since killing again commenced after we had left, and all loss of human life did not cease till the day I finally disposed of him.

“He had not been heard of for a week or two when I came into his country, and pitched my camp in a splendid mango grove near the large village of Lokartalae, on the Móran River.

“A few days of lazy existence in this microcosm of a grove passed not unpleasantly.... In the mean time I was regaled with stories of the man-eater--of his fearful size and appearance, with belly pendent to the ground, and white moon on the top of his forehead; his pork-butcher-like method of detaining a party of travellers while he rolled himself in the sand, and at last came up and inspected them all round, selecting the fattest; his power of transforming himself into an innocent-looking woodcutter, and calling or whistling through the jungle till an unsuspecting victim approached; how the spirits of all his victims rode with him upon his head, warning him of every danger, and guiding him to the fatal ambush where a traveller would shortly pass. All the best shikáris of the country-side were collected in my camp, and the land-holders and many of the people besieged my tent morning and evening. The infant of a woman who had been carried away while drawing water at a well was brought and held up before me, and every offer of assistance in destroying the monster made. No useful help was, however, to be expected from a terror-stricken population like this. They lived in barricaded houses, and only stirred out, when necessity compelled, in large bodies, covered by armed men, and beating drums and shouting as they passed along the roads. Many villages had been utterly deserted, and the country was being slowly depopulated by a single animal. So far as I could learn, he had been killing alone for about a year--another tiger that had assisted him in his fell occupation having been shot the previous hot weather. Bétúl has always been unusually afflicted with man-eaters, the cause apparently being the great numbers of cattle that come for a limited season to graze in that country, and a scarcity of other prey at the time when these are absent, combined with the unusually convenient cover for tigers alongside of most of the roads. The man-eaters of the Central Provinces rarely confine themselves solely to human food, though some have almost done so to my own knowledge.

“As soon as I could ride in the howdah [Captain Forsyth was suffering from an accident at this time], and long before I was able to do more than hobble on foot, I marched to a place called Chárkhérá, where the last kill had been reported. My usually straggling following was now compressed into a close body, preceded errand followed by baggage-elephants, and protected by a guard of police with muskets, peons with my spare guns, and a whole posse of matchlock shikáris. Two deserted villages were passed on the road, and heaps of stones at intervals showed where some traveller had been struck down. A better hunting-ground for a man-eater certainly could not be found. Thick, scrubby teak jungle closed in the road on both sides; and alongside of it for a great part of the way wound a narrow, deep watercourse, overshadowed by jámare bushes, and with here and there a small pool of water still left. I hunted along this nálá the whole way, and found many old tracks of a very large male tiger, which the shikáris declared to be those of the man-eater. There were none more recent, however, than several days. Chárkhérá was also deserted on account of the tiger, and there was no shade to speak of; but it was the most central place within reach of the usual haunts of the brute, so I encamped there, and sent the baggage-elephants back to fetch provisions. In the evening I was startled by a messenger from a place called Lá, on the Móran River, nearly in the direction I had come from, who said that one of a party of pilgrims who had been travelling unsuspectingly by a jungle road, had been carried off by the tiger close to that place. Early next morning I started off with two elephants, and arrived at the spot about eight o’clock. The man had been struck down where a small ravine leading to the Móran crosses a lonely pathway a few miles east of Lá. The shoulder-stick with its pendant baskets, in which the holy water from his place of pilgrimage had been carried by the hapless man, was lying on the ground in a dried-up pool of blood, and shreds of his clothes adhered to the bushes where he had been dragged down into the bed of the nálá.

“We tracked the man-eater and his prey into a very thick grass cover, alive with spotted deer, where he had broken up and devoured the greater part of the body. Some bones and shreds of flesh, and the skull, hands, and feet were all that remained. This tiger never returned to his victim a second time, so it was useless to found any scheme for killing him on that expectation. We took up his tracks, however, from the body, and carried them patiently down through very dense jungle to the banks of the Móran,--the trackers working in fear and trembling under the trunk of my elephant, and covered by my rifle at full cock. At the river the pugs [footprints] went out to a long spit of sand that projected into the water, where the man-eater had drunk, and then returned to a great mass of piled-up rocks at the bottom of a precipitous bank, full of caverns and recesses. This we searched with stones and some fireworks I had in the howdah, but put out nothing but a scraggy hyena, which was, of course, allowed to escape. We searched about here all day in vain, and it was not till nearly sunset that I turned and made for camp.