116 IN MALAY FORESTS. 



contented sounds of the tiger that held him at its 

 mercy, he was so wrought that, without hope of any 

 chance of life, he shouted out at the top of his voice 

 the prayers he had learned as a child. Every time he 

 ceased for want of breath it seemed as if the strength 

 to begin again would fail him. More than once he 

 was tempted to hasten the end he felt could not be 

 far off by getting up from his bed and thus bringing 

 the tiger upon him. But this he could not bring him- 

 self to do. In this way the poor man passed the 

 night. He first heard the tiger at about nine o'clock, 

 and it was not until the day began to break that it 

 left him. 



After hearing B.'s story, I decided to go up the hill 

 with him and to wait for the tiger that night. In the 

 afternoon two Malays came up with us and tied up 

 a goat outside the house in which B. had slept, making 

 a seat for us on the trigonometrical station that was 

 being erected a few yards away. I was surprised at 

 the tracks outside the little palm-leaf house : the 

 tiger had walked up and down, up and down, beside 

 the house, and deep prints showed where it had lain 

 facing the place on the bed where B.'s head had been. 

 The two front paws were within two feet of the bed, 

 and the impression showed that the tiger had been 

 there for many hours. The palm -leaf wall was so 

 flimsy (any cat could have jumped through it) that 

 the only human reason for B.'s marvellous escape 

 must be that the tiger had imagined the house and 

 its inhabitant to be a trap like those often set by the 

 natives, and, though obviously hungry, had lacked the 

 courage to put it to the test. Our men returned down 



