SINGULAR MODE OP HUNTING THE TIGER. 217 



But I could gathej- nothing concerning my friend's sitaa- 

 tion, until the next morning, when he presented himself 

 safe and sound, at the door of our house. Glad that he 

 had, at least, met with no disaster, I welcomed him back 

 with a cordial shake of the hand, and while he was at 

 breakfast, he told us his night's experience : 



"After your departure," said Mr. Barrill " the poor cow- 

 stared intently along the path by which you had retreated, 

 and then, had it not been for the occasional stamp of her 

 fore-leg, or the impatient side-toss of her head, to keep off 

 the flies, she might have seemed carved out of marble. 

 Next there was a fearful and anxious gaze up the bed of 

 the stream, and into the thick fringe of mimosa, and then 

 the apprehensive animal plunged and tugged to get loose. 

 All in vain. The cord was strong. Then her sides began 

 to heave, and she gave a low that sweet music to the 

 ears of a tiger. Again, again, the piteous sound echoed 

 among the hills. The moon arose, and from my little 

 window, I beheld a scene full of beauty and poetry. A 

 crescent of low hills, craggy, steep, and thickly wooded, 

 appeared on three sides, and above them, again, was the 

 clear blue outline of the Neilgherry hills. In front, the 

 silver-sanded bed of the dry water-course divided the 

 thick and sombre jungle with a stream of light, till lost 

 in the deep shadows at the foot of the hills. But the rest- 

 lessness of the cow called my attention from the quiet 



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