that he cannot entirely quit the ground with his
hind feet. For my part, I do not see what is to
prevent him. The muscles of his legs are fully
able to overcome the weight of his body, which
is generally spare and transversely narrow. I
have seen a tiger take a very decent drop leap.
Tigers have been known also to get, somehow,
into howdas on elephants' backs. In short, I
am inclined to believe that those who deny his
jumping powers argue with reference to his
great weight, and do not sufficiently consider
the great strength which bears that weight
along.

Natives are much more successful than
Europeans in lying in wait for a tiger. They are
more patient, and will sit from nightfall till
morning almost motionless. They are content
to sit on the bare branches of the tree, where
their dusky bodies are invisible. In Orissa
the custom is to throw a light upon the carcase
of the animal which the tiger is expected to
devour. It enables the "Shikaree" to take
better aim with his long clumsy matchlock, and
the light is readily obtained from an ordinary
"chirâg," or oil lamp, placed in an earthen pot,
the side of which next the carcase is knocked
out, while the side next the hunter casts over
him a still deeper shadow. The flame throws a
steady gleam over the spot which the tiger
will probably occupy, and it is notorious that
the animal has no fear of the light, but, on the
contrary, appears to be enticed by it. I wonder
why this custom is not practised by Europeans,
for all who have tried shooting at night-time
must know how impossible it is to take proper
aim when the muzzle of the gun is lost in
darkness, even with the aid of chalk along the top
of the barrel, or paper attached to the sight.

I know not if the opinion obtain elsewhere,
but in Orissa the idea is that a tiger prefers the
flesh of a horse to that of any other animal. At
Porahaut, in Singbhoom, 1838-39, I once saw
four cows which had been killed by a tiger.
They were lying dead in a byre, but otherwise
untouched, while a horse that had been grazing
outside had also been killed and dragged towards
the jungle. Its carcase lay near a small deserted
hovel, and in this I determined to keep watch all
night, as the people considered it certain that
the tiger would come back to feed on the body.
Everything was duly prepared. Facing the dead
horse a small hole was made in the wall of logs,
and the light of a "chirâg" so placed as to fall
well upon the horseflesh. At dusk I entered
the shanty, with two double-barrels and
ammunition, some blankets to lie on, and a trusty
follower, himself a keen hunter, to take "spell
and spell" in watching. When we had entered,
the doorway (the only opening into the shanty)
was strongly closed and secured, and we silently
began our watch. The night closed in pitchy
darkness, but as I cautiously peeped through
the loophole I saw that the light of the lamp
outside in the pitcher fell steadily on the horse's
body, and, being determined not to throw away
a chance by leaving the spot before day, as I
had done at Korsee, I resigned myself to a long
night of patience. I do not know how long we
sat side by side. The sounds from the town,
softened by the distance, at length ceased
altogether, and the forest, utterly silent, became
inky black in the night. The absence of jackals,
or of pariars (village dogs), which roam about
the skirts of human habitations at such hours,
was, according to my companion, a strong proof
that the tiger must be somewhere near: an
assurance which kept me awake, till, in the stillness,
I could watch no more.

A hand laid stealthily on my knee awoke me,
another grasp and I was broad awake, sitting
up on the floor and listening. "Bâgh aya" (the
tiger has come) whispered my companion, and
there was a low tearing, crunching, gnawing
sound from where the horse lay. No red Indian
could have passed the barrels out more stealthily
than I did. With my finger on each trigger I
cocked the gun without the slightest "click"
being audible; and then, peering along the
barrels, looked out. The horse lay about ten
yards off—something was upon it, something
reddish. How small the tiger appears! The
gnawing and rending go on, but the bodies are
confused together, for the "chirâg" has grown
dull. I must not pull until I get a fair shot at
the head. No hurry, take it easy! The gnawing
suddenly stops, a head is uplifted, a sharp
nose, and two pointed ears cocked, followed by
the too familiar "bow-woo!" reveal a village
cur.

As usual, the Brahmins and other people of
Porahaut attributed my failure to my having
omitted making the usual "pooja" or offering
to Deyvee, the goddess invoked on such
occasions. To no subject does superstition more
strongly attach, among the inhabitants of wild
jungly countries, than to the tiger. In Upper
India, the spirit of the person last killed by the
animal is believed to ride on its head, and guide
it to a fresh victim. Among the Kôles it is
the acknowledged avenger, the Nemesis of evil
deeds. The oath administered in courts of
justice, and among themselves, calls on the tiger
to slay him who shall speak aught but truth.
The angriest expression one Kôle can use
to another is, "Koola kaï hâb"—"May the tiger
seize him!" In their hunting excursions these
people, who firmly believe that the tiger has
preternatural means of overhearing all that is
said, carefully avoid mentioning him, except
by some assumed name. He is generally
mentioned as the "Raja" and "Maharâj." On one
occasion, when we were in search of a tiger,
the Kôles, preparatory to beating the covert,
placed me in a spot which it was thought likely
the animal would pass; and the head man, or
"mankee," gravely told me that "Maharâj"
would in all probability take an airing in my
direction, and that when he came near I was to
be very careful how I made my "salâm" to him.
My instructor would not for the world have
said, "You must take good aim before you fire."

Tigers are shot in considerable numbers every
year in India by trap bows and arrows set in
their haunts by the "Bughmars," or professional