A TIGER HUNT IN INDIA 21 



quite unnerved. A good drink of whisky 

 and water helped to restore me. 



My shikari's joy was as great as mine. We 

 very nearly embraced then and there on the 

 platform, which was a bit too narrow for such 

 rejoicings. Then my delighted Hindu yelled 

 something in the vernacular into the jungle. 



We climbed down and fairly jumped to- 

 wards the tiger, who, even in death, presented 

 a splendid spectacle of marvellous strength and 

 untamable savagery. 



Suddenly we were surrounded by a crowd of 

 shouting, gesticulating beaters. I was not a 

 little astonished to observe among them a 

 number of urchins who could hardly have 

 been more than six years old. The plucky 

 little fellows had played their part, too, in that 

 capital drive. 



I shall never, as long as I live, forget that 

 hot, Indian hunting day. Often now, when I 

 take up my good double-barrelled rifle, I can 

 picture the scene. Staring, white sunlight; 

 hundreds of brown natives; a curious, sharp 

 odour, such as is only to be found out there, 



