138 SPORT IN BENGAL. 



her side and back, but her cruel yellowish-green eyes shot 

 fire as she once more advanced upon us with ominous growls ; 

 a compound of grunts and snarls seasoned by furious rage 

 and desire for vengeance. My readers will understand that 

 the situation had now become full of interest and excite- 

 ment for all parties ; for the tigress, caring for men not a 

 jot, but sorely stricken and weak from loss of blood ; for the 

 men, caring very much indeed for the tigress a score of paces 

 off, and holding in reserve only a couple of light barrels. In 

 their excitement my attendants had sprung to their feet, so 

 that there was no further concealment; the wounded mon- 

 ster and we looked each other in the face. Doolap was 

 frantically loading the first gun (by the same token with 

 bullets made for the Joe Manton, and two sizes too small), 

 when once again I took a long breath, and catching a clear 

 sight of her head, struck her down at a dozen paces, and 

 then gave her the last barrel as close to the heart as I could 

 well make out. 



A shout burst from us as our late foe pitched on her head 

 and stretched herself out with a long-drawn moan, while we 

 stood still loading a barrel a-piece as fast as could be done 

 in those days of muzzle-loaders, powder flasks, loading-rods, 

 greased bullets, and caps ; but as soon as each had a barrel 

 ready and capped we advanced, I need not tell old hands, 

 not directly but circuitously, so as to get on one side and 

 rather behind her as she lay hard on to our position. There 

 followed a few wide gapes, a stroke or two of the tail, and 

 a quivering of the muscles of the neck and arms, and then 

 hurrah ! the man-eater was dead dead as Julius Csesar, dead 

 to all taste of fat wild pork or sweeter " Molunghee " flesh, 

 dead and gone with her cruel wiles and devilish appetites, 

 her sneaking, crawling stratagems and unbounded voracity ; 

 hip, hip, hurrah ! 



You who never handle the spear or rifle, and pretend to 

 sneer at the pleasures of sportsmen, do your moments of 

 success ever yield you the joy felt by me, a mere lad, as I 

 contemplated the work of my hands in ridding the world 



