A Night by a Jungle Pool. 85 



I thought I knew this tiger a shy, wily game-killer 

 who had evaded many a carefully devised beat, and who 

 had been the cause of much bad language and disappoint- 

 ment for the past two years at least. 



But here we are ! An abrupt descent over large .piled-up 

 boulders, and we are soon at the water's edge, which lies 

 below a flat out-cropping ledge of black trap-rock ; sand 

 along the north side, and the steep fall of a precipitous bank 

 lining the far shore. Here, some fifteen feet up, is our hide, 

 on the summit of a jumble of great rocks, and hedged around 

 with jamun bushes unnoticeable and natural to a degree. 



My orderly called my attention to the fact that a herd of 

 sambar had been down during the day, since the Korkus 

 had left in the morning. They had not been able to with- 

 stand further the claims of a fierce thirst ; although they 

 are able to let a couple of days at least elapse between 

 drinks. The sambar is very partial to water however, 

 especially for the sake of a good wallow in the mire. 

 There were also traces of other animals, pigs, and, 

 strangely enough, a bear. He must have been hard up to 

 stir after the hot sun had risen. Then of course there were 

 numerous marks of the little four-horned antelope and 

 barking deer. These nearly always choose noontide to 

 slake their thirst, tripping with daintily-picked and fearful 

 footsteps to the cool damp sand that fringes the forest pool. 

 We examined the ground carefully for the tiger's marks, so 

 as to try to obtain a hint from which direction to expect 

 him, but the hard withered grass and fallen leaves afforded 

 no information. 



As the last glow of dying day fades from the peaks above 

 us, the night chorus of goatsuckers strike up their refrain of 

 "Chuckoo chuckoo chuckoo !" and many small birds come 

 and sip, and flit about, rejoicing that the torrid fervour of the 



