30 INDIAN BIG GAME 



in turning them. Old Govind the Korku came 

 along, beaming with smiles but shivering with 

 cold. He strolled up the river-bed with his 

 hands under his blanket as if he were in his own 

 little hamlet. 



" Look here, Govind," I said, " you must be 

 more careful. The tiger is badly wounded and 

 has just been roaring from those bushes." 



'* What is a tiger, Sahib ? Death is a little 

 thing, every man has his fate." 



We tracked the blood, but the tiger had 

 moved on. 



The patch grew dense with bamboo and long 

 grass, so we went back to camp to collect 

 buffaloes and eat some food. 



We went out again as soon as possible with the 

 buffaloes and drove them through the cover up 

 to its point. There was no result. 



" Govind, we must go back to the blood tracks. 

 We've gone wrong." 



He and I walked back outside the cover, 

 leaving the buffaloes to be collected. The ground 

 we went over was open, dry plain with yellow 

 grass an inch long ; it was treeless except for an 

 occasional sapling. 



I was in front, Govind sixty yards behind me. 

 I happened to turn and saw him halt, turn half 

 left about, and walk with his right arm slightly 

 out sideways, palm horizontal with the ground. 

 Three curious puzzled steps, and out went the 

 arm further. Another little advance, and still 

 further out went the accusing arm. I was rapidly 

 moving on Govind. Out went his arm pointing 

 straight, and I knew it was the tiger. I ran to 



