MY FIRST TIGER, 



It's only a short story. In the hot weather 

 months of the year 1866, I — being 21 years of age 

 at the time — was working in the Guzerat Revenue 

 Survey in a district called the Punch Mahals, which 

 lies some 200 miles north of Bombay. Godra was 

 the principal town, and there all the civil authorities 

 in the judicial, revenue, and police departments 

 resided. 



In those days there was no railway in that part of 

 the Bombay Presidency, and as there were splendid 

 teak wood jungles all round, it was a noted place for 

 good tiger shooting. So far as my memory serves 

 me — for it's a long time to look back to without any 

 notes — it was at Godhra that I first met Major 

 Bonnor, who was Superintendent of the Police of 

 that District. The Major was an A i sportsman 

 and a first class rifle shot, and had, I believe, bagged 

 a fair number of tigers in his day. Seeing that I 

 myself, though only a youngster, was anxious to be 

 initiated into the sport of " big game shooting," he 

 very kindly asked me to join his camp for a few 

 days in the month of May on the chance of getting 

 a shot at a tiger. Needless to say, I found my way 

 over from my camp to his without much delay after 

 getting the invitation. 



There were four of us in our party — Major 

 Bonnor and a young brother of his (a lieutenant in 

 the Royal Artillery), Colonel Walker, R.A., and 



