Puslapio vaizdai
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liberate elderly men, whose ancestors were probably burghers when the town-levy had to help man the walls. Very few of the important buildings gave me any special pleasure: but the tiled roofs were a joy all of these two sunny days: whether you looked on a mass of them, huddled inconceivably close where the old town ran down to the waterway (a portion which the restricted wall of 1542 left outside its ring), or saw them singly, each by itself, a sheet of rich mottled colour for which I tried many comparisons. Where the old tiles had been patched and cemented together with repointing, the effect was like that of some very old Persian rug, low in tone: and it was curious to observe how even new roofs were being graded down by the weather in that moist air into a sober harmony with the rest. But chance showed me a much closer resemblance. Outside the citadel some of the great elms which grow on the ramparts had been felled, and the trunks lay there in the sun, the rough bark crevassed with innumerable fissures, and the dull white where the branches had been lopped making patches already subdued in tone by the exuding sap. To run your eye from these up to the old roofs beyond them was to carry it through a series of gradations, in which colour and texture alike were of a piece. It was as if this town, once all woodwork, had never wholly got away from

the associations of shingling. Against this quiet richness every here and there stuck out some piece of yellow wallflower, and brought the note of spring across the buildings as clearly as the green buds called it among rugged trunks.

Outside the walls, where slipping earth gave shrubs a foothold on the rampart, sloe-blossom was a delicate mist of white and on the eastward face, where a little watercourse runs in the valley, there was a hazel thicket. Here I heard the deep chuckle of a nightingale, trying his throat, and after dark I walked the ramparts, hoping for the full song; but it was too cold or too early: an owl screeched, and down below a strong-lunged frog croaked like a water-bird. Up there in the dark one got amazingly the sense of separation. To the left, narrow lanes ran into the town, with lampions here and there, and lighted windows, all safe and snug to the right, two hundred feet below, misty and dark, was the unwalled and unenclosed-that which the town walls had to guard against. An officer passing alone on the ramparts, and later, a soldier

the only two persons I met, increased the feeling that one was still in a defended fortress.

Another time, perhaps, I may go back to Montreuil and explore in detail: but for that little holiday, sunlight and the pervading strangeness sufficed me. I never basked more

itself a heavy enough burden, This forms the tinder. He and we carry it to an open plants the split end firmly on spot on the top of the hill. the ground, holds the other The antlers measure a little end firmly in his left hand, over forty inches. It is not and with his right hand passes a great length, but it is good the second piece of bamboo for this particular tract of with two or three saw-like country, where sambhar do not motions over the angle of the run to great length of horn; catapult. In a moment it is and it would be respectable done, and the tinder is smoulanywhere. dering. Meantime Chaitu has deftly folded a fresh sal leaf into a cone with a small aper ture at the apex, and I have filled the leaf with tobacco. We lie down and pass the leaf from one to another, drawing the smoke through the aper ture into a tiny passage made by pressing the thumbs together. Thus no lip touches the actual leaf. Such is the approved style of smoking. We feel very happy. The day has opened fortunately. We have achieved our object, though the pursuit up the hill was an arduous and unpremeditated episode. Nothing is said of the trackers' earlier defection. They have clearly repented; and the introduction of so delicate a subject would be tact less, and merely spoil the calm enjoyment of the moment.

We are very hot, thirsty, and temporarily exhausted. As liquid is not available (my bottle being now empty), tobacco becomes a necessity. But the use of fire, save in the camp area, is forbidden in this forest, since the sal is very valuable for making sleepers; and at this time of year the jungle is highly inflammable. To avoid temptation, I do not carry matches. But there are times when a smoke is imperative, so I am always armed with a tobacco pouch. Not much use without matches, you will say. As a matter of fact, a lens would serve equally well. But there is a simpler way of committing the felony of fire production. First we take due precautions, clearing a little ground of leaves. Then Phaganu, who is an adept Prometheus, selects two pieces of bamboo, each about eight inches long. He splits one to half-way down its length, and inserts a small pebble to keep the two sides slightly apart, like a narrow catapult. He twists a morsel of cloth off his nether garments, and stuffs it between the pebble and the angle where the sides join.

But we have still the tiger to deal with. So we dig a little hole in the ground, and carefully bury the remnants of our improvised pipe and of the tinder. Then we shoulder the two rifles and the head, and descend the hill. On reach ing its foot we discover a water-source, such as sometimes persists into the hot weather. It is a deep stagnant

ong surrounding rocks. ter is opaque and recovered with green low slime. But water shape is the most weling to us. We all three to the pool and wallow to our necks like buffahile wallowing, we canain from swallowing, oubt each of us absorbs lions of typhoidal and thal bacilli. But that can't be helped. Thus 1, we renew our jourhe chase after the stag en us out of our exne of return, and there mance of meeting the We have to tramp back e miles over the shadeulations of the great nder a fierce sun and hot wind. Our chief is the sambhar's head, makes an intolerable We take turns in carryand the only way to is on the top of the o our progress is slow nful, and it is nearly when we reach the I am glad of some t, as I had had nothing up of tea and a piece before starting. PhaChaitu retire to their and indulge in chund roast wild pork. is no time to be lost. st-guard on duty tells the tiger has dragged a long way. It has been impossible to te it. For the tiger e lying up near the it would be risky to

approach unarmed. I give one rifle to the guard (who knows its use), and take the other myself. We soon come on the site of the kill, and follow an easy trail which leads for over half a mile into dense jungle. This is a good sign. The tiger would not have taken so much trouble to get the carcase away and hide it if he had no intention of returning to it. At last we find the kill-a chetel doe not quite fully grown. The tiger has, as usual, torn its throat, drunk some blood, and Inibbled at its shoulder.

I proceed to lay my plans. If the tiger comes out before sundown, so much the better. If he doesn't, there will be two hours of darkness before the rising of the moon. If he comes later still, the important thing will be to have the moon behind me, shining on the kill in front. To the east of the kill is a small sal tree. It is too low, and a tiger could easily spring into it. But there is nothing else available, so it must serve. I sling between its branches a sort of semirigid hammock, which I have devised for such occasions and found very comfortable; and we surround it as far as possible with leafy boughs of sāl. I get on to the hammock, and the others return to the camp.

Sunset comes without incident. Now for the two perilous hours of darkness! I have brought with me some sandwiches and bottles of cold tea. I make a frugal meal. The minutes drag on. minutes drag on. One hour of

question. I have since wondered what flashed into my mind and gave me the happy inspiration. Ordinarily I am slow in thought, decision, and action. But without a moment's hesitation I pulled in the rifle, drew out my pockethandkerchief, whipped it round the end of the barrels with a knot over the sight, and, allow ing for the high sight thus formed, fired at the tiger's head. Never had I acted so quickly. But I take no credit for this. The rapidity of thought and action were so alien to my nature that I am sure they cannot have belonged to me. The gods had decreed that the tiger should die that night. Kismet.

the two has passed. Then on a hill that rises in front of me I hear a tiger call. Bad luck! I shall have to take a shot in the dark. But no; the call is not repeated till most of the second hour is gone; and still, though it is then repeated, nothing happens. There is a faint silver glimmer behind me. The moon is nearing the eastern horizon. Now she is over it. Now she is high enough to send a few rays between the branches and to light up the kill. I have brought with me my old 500 express. Silently I thrust it out every now and then in the direction of the kill to try the night-sight, which is well illumined by the moon behind. Still there is no movement in the jungle. It is getting on for eleven o'clock.

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The moment was not devoid of sensation. For an aim at night is always something of a chance; and, as I fired, I felt by no means confident that the next moment might not find the tiger sharing with me my patent semi-rigid hammock. Though that did not occur, sufficiently urgent predicament arose over my pocket-handker chief, the ends of which, hang. ing down over the muzzle of the rifle, had become ignited. Oddly enough, almost at the instant of firing, I had realised this possibility also and the danger which might ensue to the forest if the burning handkerchief fell to the ground and the undergrowth caught, while perhaps a wounded tiger was rendering difficult any efforts to extinguish it. I confess it had not crossed my mind that

Suddenly I hear close behind me the sullen angry snarl of a tiger approaching his prey. In a moment he has passed right under me. But it is too dark to see anything till he emerges from shadow into the little space where the chetel lies. His movements are extraordinarily rapid. He seizes the carcase in his jaws, swings round so as to face me, and commences backing and dragging the kill along. I align my rifle. Horror! In the few minutes since I last tested the aim, the rising moon has become eclipsed, so far as the night-sight is concerned, behind a tiny clump of leaves. The muzzle of the rifle is in shadow, the night-sight invisible, and accurate alignment out of the

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FOL. COX

ould a curious proceeding on the n a part of a tiger or a tigress, the who is not ordinarily, like the mes panther, of an inquisitive and ttle prying nature, but rather wants not to get away from anything med startling. Now the mate, if cky indeed it be she, is close to the to tiger's body. The moon is ere higher and the light improving. ife- I may hope to bag two tigers.

But that is not to be. Warned urs perhaps by the scent of blood ng, or smoke, the beast hesitates ve to come into the little open m- space, and remains invisible in 15° the undergrowth. She circles ng all round me. I can hear her ve mewing and purring; and I of spend the rest of the night eel pivoting round on my hamnk mock, my rifle out ready trained in on the spot whence the sound he last proceeded. But I have is never a sight of her. The or sleepless night wears on, and an not till the false dawn does the t- tigress sheer off. Then she n- gives one angry baffled roar, do and I can hear her grumbling a away into the forest. Her beut haviour has been highly irrine tating. She has kept me awake ay all night, and never given me en a shot.

10 The false dawn fades. The p. birds, deceived into a preng mature chorus, are silent again. re There is the distant belling ot of a stag, and stealthy sounds er proclaim the close of darkness. As Then the real light breaks, e the sun arises, and here and y there comes the sound of foots steps as the beasts get them ot away together to their lairs. -I emerge from my concealment.

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