JUNGLES OF BENGAL DUARS AND ASSAM 137 



stand out dim and grey from the surrounding twilight, and 

 with the wonderful abruptness of the East the dawn arrived. 

 Cautiously and quietly we left the zareba and walked up to 

 the dead sambhar. It lay on its side, head and neck out- 

 stretched and throat torn open and, as we soon discovered, 

 with a bullet through the heart. So my shot had missed 

 the tiger or, at any rate, had killed the sambhar, if it was 

 not already dead at the time I fired, which appearances 

 seemed to indicate. We made a short survey of the neigh- 

 bouring grass for blood, but found none, and then I deemed 

 it to be more prudent to get back to camp and fetch the 

 elephant. I spent the morning searching for that tiger, 

 but found no traces of blood. It appeared evident that, 

 as ill-luck would have it, the bullet aimed at the struggling 

 mass on the ground hit the dying or dead victim and missed 

 the marauder, which is exactly the kind of mischance which 

 so often happens in sport, and probably accounts for half 

 its elusive attraction and charm. 



The incident proved, however, a most cheerful and 

 exciting piece of news to give to the guests of the Christmas 

 party on their arrival, and I feel sure that each man retired 

 to roost on the first night with the conviction that he would 

 meet a tiger during his first day's sport in such a delectable 

 region. 



