IN BURMAH 341 



are any number of tigers, but the wealth of game in 

 the jungles probably explains why the village herds- 

 man sees so little of them. Every jungle herdsman 

 who lives in the open park-like lands, and pens his 

 buffaloes or cattle in a kraal near his dwelling at 

 night, knows of a tiger, which in nineteen cases out 

 of twenty is a leopard, and will cheerfully accept a 

 rupee or two for a buffalo calf to be tied up. It is 

 unsatisfactory work sitting over the chosen victim 

 under these circumstances, as the leopard with almost 

 human perversity prefers to visit the pen and make 

 his own selection. A Karen's pig-sty is a ready- 

 made bait, and a very good one ; the leopard's pre- 

 ference for pork over other meat is marked. If you 

 want tiger you had better go up into the hills : these 

 are meshed all over with choungs, which very 

 commonly take the shape of wide sand strips, along 

 one or both sides of which, under the jungle, the 

 remains of the monsoon floods linger far into the hot 

 season. The tigers cross these sand strips to get 

 from cover to cover, and, where left undisturbed, the 

 beast frequently follows the same beat night after 

 night with the regularity of a London policeman. 

 The pugs, nearly obliterated by drift, and so fresh 

 that the claw-tips stand out sharply, show that the 

 same line has been followed perhaps for weeks. Hit 

 off such a path meandering across a choung and 

 follow it into the jungle, out along or across another 

 choung^ into cover again, and so on, and you will 

 obtain as good an idea of the tiger's method of 

 hunting as if he had taken you with him. The 



