28 THE FORESTS OF UPPER INDIA 



different places, one being over the body, sat there all 

 day, and shot the old Juli tigress at evening. This had 

 been some years previous to the time of this narrative, and 

 now the man-eating family was represented by a son of 

 the old tigress. 



To describe the death of this tiger will now be at- 

 tempted, though it was not till some time later. It was 

 the hottest season of the year 1864, just before the break- 

 ing of the rains. There is something very fascinating 

 and almost weird in the appearance of the dense tropical 

 jungle in the hot season in June. The vegetation is all 

 so parched and dry that the leaves rattle on the trees, 

 when blown by the fiery blasts which sweep along the 

 arid surface of the plains. The north-east hot winds 

 are deflected by the upward currents, which by day are 

 drawn by the heat of the sun up the valleys, to return at 

 night in a downward direction. The natives in their 

 picturesque language call this the Rani ka pankha (the 

 Princess's fan). Most of the trees which, though ever- 

 green, change their leaves yearly, are dropping the last 

 year's crop about now, and appear almost bare, their 

 bark often shiny and polished like naked limbs of a pink 

 and yellow colour. The gorgeous flowers of the forest trees 

 — some, as the semal,* or cotton tree, scarlet, like huge 

 water-lilies, some orange, like the dhak — fringe the leafless 

 stems and branches. The forest fires have made a final 

 sweep up of all the dry grass and herbage, and the soil is 

 black and smells of burning. The air is dense and heavy, 

 and the hot wind ceases to blow, till at last all nature 

 seems to collapse under the overpowering furnace-like 

 stillness and heat. The sun seems fixed straight over- 

 head, hanging like a crimson-red globe ready to drop on 

 to the doomed earth. There are no clouds, but the air 

 * Bombax hepiaphyllum. 



