72 DIARY OF A SPORTSMAN NATURALIST 



Luckily the wind was still blowing, although not in the 

 terrible gusts experienced an hour or so before, and the 

 machan had steadied down and was no longer like the 

 deck of a ship in a gale. The noise of the rustling branches 

 was still sufficient, however, to drown any sounds I made 

 in getting free of my mackintosh and standing up in the 

 machan. By moving to the extreme right-hand edge, 

 clinging on by a small branch and leaning well over, I 

 perceived, after a time, to my infinite delight, the tiger's 

 left ear showing snowy white against the surrounding 

 foliage, and soon after for a short moment the left half of 

 the crown of his head as he moved it in his crunching 

 operations. He was apparently squatting on the ground 

 with the hind-quarters of the buffalo between his fore-paws, 

 feeding just as a cat would. This I conjectured, but 

 although I watched for nearly half an hour, not an inch 

 did the beast budge from its recumbent position. It 

 became evident that I should have to fire at what I could 

 see, or take a chance shot at where I thought the tiger's 

 body was. I soon determined that if I had to fire at him 

 in his present position I would take the head shot and risk 

 it. The minutes went by, and I became aware that the 

 light was failing ; in addition to this serious fact I could 

 stand the irksomeness of my present position no longer. 

 I have said that to see the tiger at all I had to cling to a 

 small branch and lean right out of the machan, standing 

 at its extreme right edge. There was no parapet of any 

 kind, and the drop below was about thirty-five feet, as the 

 ground sloped steeply, so that the position was not an 

 enviable one. Even the slight support accorded me by the 

 branch was unavailable when I wanted to fire, as I should 

 require both hands were I to succeed in hitting the mark 

 presented. The only way to negotiate the difficulty was to 

 make the orderly hold me round the waist, as I could not 

 hold on to the branch, and my pantomime signals were 

 most energetic as to the consequences to himself should he 

 let go and send me below. If he held tight, all would be 

 well. If he let go, well I did not care to think about the 

 consequences. I didn't like it, not a bit, as it was depend- 

 ing on a native more, much more than I had ever done 

 before. But what could I do ? There was my first tiger 

 below me, and ordinary common-sense and prudence were 

 relegated to the background. With one final glare at my 



