THE BIOGRAPHY OF A TIGER 23 



once more in the valley of the Si'pna, on just such an 

 evening as has been described. 



Amid the darkly enfolding jungle, a little clearing of 

 yellow grass, a moonlit cart-track smothered in silent 

 dust still warm from the rays of the departed sun ; and 

 the three tigers, grey shadows casting black shade, stand 

 listening under the moon. A leisurely stroll along the 

 convenient roadway, a dip and a hollow, a damp air, a 

 turn to the right away from the main stream, soft throaty 

 breathings, a passing of dim figures from the moonlight 

 into the dark of overhanging trees, and up the deep-cut 

 tributary course of the Khari nullah. 



A pleasant night-long prowl was that ! over soft sand, 

 through long grass, along the narrow jungle path skirting 

 the troublesome boulder-strewn bend of the little river 

 near the ruins of deserted R61a, and across the flat, warm, 

 dark rocks. A deliciously cool air that of the damp 

 Khari by night. A nearly full moon overhead. Deep 

 shadows in which to lurk if need be. The waking con- 

 sciousness of his growing power and strength possessed 

 the young tiger. Mother uttered no sound, but the three 

 all understood, threading this luminous silence, their 

 domain, with a grim joy of lordship over the jungle 

 and its watchful, wandering inhabitants, their slaves 

 almost all. 



And so, gently on, through the tropic night. It may 

 have been towards the small hours of the night, nearer 

 morning than evening, that the striped night-walkers had 

 reached the head of the winding ravine of the Khari, at 

 a point where the little river splits off in every direction, 

 sending its fingers deep into low, jungly hills, whence the 

 monsoon rains pour down their rushing sources; and 'twas 

 after passing up one of these dry upper reaches of the 

 shrunken forest stream that the sudden up-springing of 

 a querulous screaming plover and the faint croaking of 

 frogs betokened the proximity of water. 



