vn MY FIRST TIGER 79 



leaves. When wounded, the male is a terrible 

 brute to cut up a dog. 



On the 13th of November I secured my first 

 tiger, or rather tigress, and as with her I got a 

 magnificent stag sambhur whose horns measured 

 37 inches, it was a memorable day. 



I left the little bungalow before daybreak 

 with my two favourite Sholaga trackers ; there 

 was a bright moon and a good path for the 

 greater part of the way to the plateau where I 

 intended stalking, so that by dawn we found 

 ourselves within half an hour's walk of our ground. 

 Here several freshly dug holes showed that bears 

 were about, and we proceeded more cautiously. 

 The foot of the hill was almost reached when 

 suddenly the clear, loud bell of a sambhur rang 

 out on our right ; a few seconds later, another 

 bell only a few hundred yards off ; and we crept 

 towards the spot, but had not moved far when 

 our steps were arrested by a crashing among 

 the bamboos, followed by a third cry from the 

 sambhur, but not a bell this time ; it was a hoarse, 

 long-drawn roar of pain and fear. " Something 

 has seized it," whispered the leading tracker, and 

 then they both muttered "A tiger!" I urged 

 them to go on, and as we started off, again there 

 came that awful cry from the sambhur. We 

 pushed on as noiselessly as possible till within 

 perhaps a hundred yards of the spot, when once 

 more, and for the last time, came this fearful 

 cry, such a cry as I had never heard in my life 

 before ; it made me shudder. Afterwards I 

 knew that it was the dying call of the poor stag 

 struggling hopelessly with his terrible adversary. 



