90 Leaves from an Indian Jungle. 



Two figures, dark and stiff, peered over the lip of the 

 rock, the glint of moonlight on a double-barrelled "577. 

 There came the deepest of guttural sighs from the big, 

 black boulder under the far clump of bamboo. 



The moon shone on, and the watch ticked loudly in my 

 pocket, and we waited weary work, with all senses at 

 highest pressure. 



Five minutes must have passed thus. 



Ah ! a stone turned then and now the moon's rays fall 

 on the white face and chest of a tiger, as he moves out of 

 the blackness, and comes gently forward : a rather small 

 and lightly made brute, but with twice the grace and ele- 

 gance of the beef-eater of the plains. 



He comes to a sudden halt, moving his head slowly from 

 side to side. Perhaps a slight human taint reached him, 

 but it apparently escapes notice, for, pausing but a little 

 while, he passes straight to the water ; the powerful should- 

 er-blades work under his glossy coat as he crouches like 

 a great cat ; and down goes his head to lap. 



Gently, ever so gently, the rifle comes to the shoulder, 

 and the white card V on the muzzle stands out well in the 

 moonlight. 



A sudden star of bright sparks, a struggling and a rolling, 

 and then a " Woof T as bang goes the left barrel at a 

 vanishing streak of faint grey which flashes up over the 

 dark rocks and is gone. 



Caution and quiet were now unnecessary, and as we dis- 

 cussed the pros and cons of a hit or miss, I treated myself 

 to a well-merited whisky and soda, and turned in for a 

 snooze. I slept till awakened by the words repeated in 

 Hindustani : " Hazur, the fate of the tiger has come to 

 pass I" my orderly being, as befitted a pious Moslem, a 

 firm believer in /swa^ and, sitting up with the fresh 



