106 Leaves from an Indian Jungle. 



enchained by his splendid tout -ensemble, until, next 

 moment, he is moving forward, across us, at a slow, lei- 

 surely walk. 



He is passing now past well past wait another 

 moment a little more now 



"Bang!" . 



"Woof!" 



* * * * * 



The tiger has disappeared in the grass. There is a sud- 

 den crying of peafowl all around, as the report of the shot 

 dies away in the jungle ; then that too is quieted. Still 

 we continue standing intently there. 



After a while there comes the voice of old Abbas Khan 

 shouting from a low tree 



" He's gone on towards the big nala" 



" Can you see him ? " I call. 



"No!" 



"Then send a man up higher." 



A dusky figure is seen climbing. Shortly comes an 

 excited voice" There he is I See! There he is ! Lying 

 down beyond the big kowa tree" and the old orderly 

 goes clambering up after the first climber. 



" Have you got the glasses ? " we yell. 



"What?" 



"Glosses." 



"They are (here)." 



" Use them then, and see if he is breathing." 



We cautiously make our way towards his tree, and 

 arriving near it address the old fellow, who is standing 

 up aloft, affectionately embracing a branch, and with eyes 

 glued to the powerful prism binoculars. 



" Is he dead?" 



" lie does not move ! " - 



