240 HUNTING IN THE JUNGLE. 



sure. I hnve always respected a man's religious opin- 

 ions ; and 1 resolved, if possible, while ridding the coun- 

 try of a monster, to do it in such a way as to reflect 

 the greatest credit on the native beliefs, especially as 

 I saw that the priest's lack of success was appreciated 

 by the natives, and that they were evidently losing con- 

 fidence in superhuman aid, preferring to trust to our 

 rifle-barrels as a stronger staff in the difiiculty than the 

 reliorion in which every one should trust. 



How to arrange it was the great question. The ani- 

 mal had tasted human blood, and was sure to return. 

 The very night before, while the incantations were going 

 on that were to free the village from his evil spirit, the 

 tiger had suddenly appeared in their very midst, fasten- 

 ing upon two of the chiefs at his first bound, and, in 

 spite of their struggles and their friends' spears, he had 

 carried one of them off, leaving the other disembowelled 

 on the ground. 



At last an idea flashed upon me. I bought a fine, 

 healthy bull of one of the Indians, and at night, accom- 

 panied by my guide and the sorcerer, led him out to the 

 edge of the clearing, beyond the last hut of the village, 

 and tied him to a stout bamboo, on the side of the 

 road a dozen paces or less from one of the priest's 

 pools of hallowed water, with which at regular in- 

 tervals he had surrounded the village. Into this basin 

 I poured a few drops from a flask I carried, — it is 

 needless to say not of brandy, — and then drew my 



