STRANGE BEHAVIOUR OF THE PANTHER. 363 



manner peculiar to panthers, neither looking to right nor left, and appear- 

 ing as if he had never been disturbed in his life ! He was seventy yards 

 away, and end on, presenting a difficult shot ; but I knelt, and taking a 

 steady aim, fired. The brute only gave a start, and without looking behind 

 him galloped heavily forward for a few yards, and then subsided into the 

 same unconcerned pace ! I was determined to make a better shot now, 

 so waiting until the panther turned a bend in the path I ran quickly and 

 silently after him, as I knew another bend, which the path almost imme- 

 diately made, would give me a broadside view further on. Peeping eagerly 

 ahead I saw the panther going round the second bend with an air of the 

 most perfect abstraction. Here goes an awakener — to his doom — thought 

 I, as I pressed the trigger. He was then only fifty yards away, but the 

 light was failing, and though I certainly ought to have bagged him, I made 

 one of those distressing misses which every sportsman does now and again. 

 The panther sprang forward with a gruff growl, and as my rifle was empty, 

 and the spare cartridges were in the trap, I ran back for them, 



I found there were only two. It was fast growing dark, so we left the 

 pony standing, and Murga ran back with me to where I had last fired, to where 

 — as we did not then know I had missed — we expected to find the panther 

 dead, or at least wounded. To our astonishment there was no blood, whilst 

 his tracks kept on in the path, and at his former deliberate gait. " He's a 

 devQ," said my superstitious companion as we ran on round the next two 

 bends. Still the track led forward. At the third turn we came suddenly 

 on the brute, looking inquiringly over his shoulder in the direction in 

 which he heard our footsteps. Almost before I could bring up my rifle he 

 bounded into the cover, and I missed him again, though there was some 

 excuse this time in his rapid movements. The chief strategic mistake we 

 made occurred at this point. Instead of going back to the pony as we did, 

 imagining that as the panther had now seen his enemies clearly, and had 

 been deliberately fired at from the distance of a few yards, he would not 

 show himself again, I ought to have hidden myself in the thicket bordering 

 the path, and I should certainly have obtained a shot at him, at a few yards' 

 distance, almost immediately. 



We met the pony coming slowly along with the trap, cocking his ears 

 and stepping like a startled deer, as he well knew from a lengthy jungle 

 experience that the shots and smell of the panther meant something serious. 

 Jumping in I gave him his head, and as he was anxious to get home — all 

 domestic animals in India evince the greatest disinclination to remain in the 

 jungles after sunset, their instinct warning them of the danger they incur 

 in so doing — we rattled rapidly forward, when, as we rounded the comer 



