A REAL TIGER STORY 



233 



during a beat for tiger. The terrific heat is unnoticed. 

 For to the real sportsman there is so much to study during 

 the wait whilst the beating elephants are still distant. I 

 was very interested, I remember, in the movements of some 

 tiny tree creepers in the grass below me. Tiny little birds, 

 as you know, their movements are extremely fascinating to 

 watch. As they chmb up the stems of the great grasses, 

 prying their beaks into the sheaths, one wonders whether a 

 tithe of the insects they make their daily meal off are known 

 to science. The little beggars were searching systematically 

 the various parts of the stems and flowers and seeds of the 

 tall elephant grass — the tiger grass, as I like to call it — 

 for to my mind there is no fairer sight than to see a tiger 

 coming open-mouthed and roaring at you through it. 



" Meditating on these things, my attention was suddenly 

 attracted by a slight rustle in the grass on the other side of 

 the ravine ; or I thought it was a rustle different from that 

 of the wind in the grass, from which we were somewhat 

 protected here. I concentrated my attention on the spot, 

 and held my breath, my whole body stiff and motionless. 

 Suddenly, without a sound, 

 a tiger looked out of the 

 edge of the grass, just 

 where it dipped somewhat 

 into the ravine. Only his 

 head appeared, the head 

 of a fine, nearly full grown 

 male tiger, framed in the 

 long grass. He must have 

 been on higher ground, or 

 up on a stone, for he was 

 far higher than I had ex- 

 pected to see an animal 

 appear ; in fact, for a 

 moment the thought 

 crossed my mind that he 

 was climbing up the grass 

 stems. This notion was, 

 of course, only momen- 

 tary, and was replaced at once by my surmise of higher 

 ground. As I recovered from my surprise, the head 

 disappeared and silence reigned. None of us had 

 budged an inch. The elephant very quietly coiled up his 





