A NIGHT BY A JUNGLE POOL 169 



small and lightly made brute, but with twice the grace and 

 elegance of the beef-eater of the plains. 



He comes to a sudden halt, moving his head slowly from 

 side to side. Perhaps a slight human taint reached him, 

 but it apparently escapes notice, for, pausing but a little 

 while, he passes straight to the water; the powerful 

 shoulder-blades work under his glossy coat as he crouches 

 like a great cat ; and down goes his head to lap. 



Gently, ever so gently, the rifle comes to the shoulder, 

 and the white card sight on the muzzle stands out well in 

 the moonlight. 



A sudden star of bright sparks, a struggling and a roll- 

 ing, and then a " Woof!" as bang! goes the left barrel at a 

 vanishing streak of faint grey which flashes up over the 

 dark rocks and is gone. 



Caution and quiet were now unnecessary, and as we dis- 

 cussed the pros and cons of a hit or miss, I treated myself 

 to a well-merited whisky and soda, and turned in for a 

 snooze. I slept till awakened by the words repeated in 

 Hindustani: " Haztir, the fate of the tiger has come to 

 pass ! " my orderly being, as befitted a pious Moslem, a 

 firm believer in kismat and, sitting up with the fresh 

 breeze of dawn fanning my cheek, felt rather grubby after 

 the long, warm hours of night in this close ravine. The 

 men were washing their mouths, noisy native fashion, in 

 the far pool ; and grey jungle-cocks called defiance from 

 every side. Little parties of them and of the sombre 

 spur-fowl pattered in the leaves round the head of the 

 pool. 



Sitting thus, a movement in the limbs of a tall tree 

 beyond the ndla attracted my attention, and shortly two 

 dark lithe objects appeared, chasing each other up and 

 down the long branches, against the beautiful green flush 

 of the young day. At length they scurried up to the top- 

 most twig, whence one, detaching itself, sailed with a 

 steady downward flight straight over my head, and, curving 



