58 RIFLE AND ROMANCE 



the still air. Night was falling. Already a star or two 

 began to show in the darkening sky; and the mournful 

 call of some nocturnal bird re-echoed hollowly in a neigh- 

 bouring ravine. 



After a while a stick snapped indistinctly across the 

 narrow glade, and there was a slight crepitation in the 

 opacity of the opposite trees. In the dim light a shape- 

 less form, as of some large beast, travelled slowly across 

 an opening in the brittle undergrowth and faded into the 

 shadows beyond a fallen log. 



For some minutes there was dead silence. Then a 

 cautious tread again became faintly audible in the loose 

 carpeting of withered leaves ; some grass-stems bent very 

 slowly aside ; and, with infinite craft, the brindled shape of 

 a large tiger stole softly, slily, out of the gloom. He was 

 creeping watchfully forward, paw by paw, head down. 

 Then he stopped short in the middle of a pace, and 

 listened. 



Some small crepuscular creature a mungoose, or a 

 ratel was stirring in the dead leaves along the hillside 

 to his right. He remained motionless for a few moments, 

 gazing intently in this direction, full of deep suspicion. 

 Then he slowly advanced his huge suspended paw, and 

 came on once more through the jungle, with a heavy- 

 shouldered padding gait ; a great, ugly, bloated brute, 

 clumsy and misshapen in his enormous tawny strength. 



To reach the bed of the stream and the motionless 

 flyblown thing that lay there he would have to pass 

 a little thicket, and then turn down the warm shelving 

 rocks of the river-bank itself. Deliberately, warily, he 

 paced on. He passed behind the maze of interlacing 

 branches. His fulvous hide could be seen moving gradually 

 through their interstices. Inch by inch he reappeared. 

 A great head emerged, then the white chest. And 

 then he sank slowly on his haunches and calmly sat 

 down! 



