of the Old World. 139 



kissed the hem of my old green baize shooting-coat, 

 cracked their knuckles over my forehead for luck, 

 stroked my face and beard, patted me on the back, 

 and at last became so vehement in their attentions 

 that I had to beg of my gang to keep them off. 



All the men in the village turned out with torches 

 and firesticks to escort me home to camp. Rockets 

 and fireworks were burnt, matchlocks discharged, and 

 tomtoms, dubties, and cholera horns poured forth 

 their notes of triumph before the dead tiger, whose 

 head was carried in the front on a spear. 



My gang marched at the head of the procession, 

 and five ancient dancing- girls from the village were 

 pirouetting before the cart, howling and yelling as 

 they whirled on the " light fantastic," in such a 

 manner that they reminded one strongly of the witch 

 scene in Macbeth. The whole camp turned out to 

 view the carcass of the man-eater, and many were 

 the congratulations I received from all parties that 

 evening. 



I gave a few sheep and fowls to my gang, with 

 some rackee, and throughout the night " there was a 

 sound of revelry." The next day the mutilated 

 carcass was paraded on a cart in all the neighbouring 

 villages by Kistimah and the dhoby, who, by levying 

 contributions either in coin or kind, realised a little 

 fortune for themselves. 



I have killed many tigers both before and since, 



