64 INDIAN BIG GAME 



a bad thing to do, but it is tiring. On the 

 first occasion I omitted to picket the kill, which 

 had been dragged. I sat up in dense cover 

 almost above the kill, and saw it vanish just as 

 the light went. I never saw the tiger, and I 

 believe the brute hooked the kill round a corner 

 with his paw. He then munched away con- 

 tentedly for hours, while I climbed about my 

 tree, flashed the lamp, peered, and cursed. 



On the other occasion the machan had to be 

 a sort of spillikin jackdaw's nest, low down in a 

 small clump of bamboos, which I hate, anyhow, 

 for they always creak. I sat cramped and un- 

 comfortable on the side of the road with my 

 back to it, and facing the scene of the previous 

 failure. 



Soon after dusk I heard the tiger moving 

 behind me on the bank above and across the road. 

 The kill was very close, and fearing a dragging 

 episode similar to the last, I determined to fire 

 as soon as the tiger appeared. In moving my 

 rifle I touched a tiny twig. The tiger, who had 

 been advancing, swung round with a grunt, and 

 departed for good. 



Sad at heart, I curled up to sleep; and as the 

 mosquitoes were bad, pulled a blanket over my 

 head. I was awakened by the crunching of 

 bones. It took me over twenty (timed) minutes 

 to get silently into a firing position. There was 

 a panther on the kill. 



The torch, which I had tested and found correct 

 when the tiger went, refused to act. The panther 

 was suspicious, and ate deliberately round the 

 kill, moving with the moonlight, to keep himself 



