TIGER is my subject to-night,' said Ralph Denison, when his turn came round again, 'since you said you liked my adventure among the lion-whelps. I don't know exactly why, but I would always rather deal with a lion than with a tiger; he seems somehow to appeal to me, as a fellow-sportsman, more than a tiger does.'

'Hear, hear,' Vandeleur chimed in; 'I quite agree.'

'Though, mind you,' Ralph continued, 'I think the tiger is quite as plucky, taking him all round.'

'As a rule, yes,' said Vandeleur; 'but I have known lions attack a human camp at night, and I don't fancy any tiger would do that, so long as there was a fire burning.'

'Nor a lion either,' laughed Ralph.

'Excuse me, I have known them do it,' said Vandeleur; 'and I will tell you about it one of these evenings.'

'Get on with your story, Ralph,' growled Bobby; 'arguments are against the rules.'

Ralph laughed, and proceeded.

I was in India at the time (he said), and stationed at Fuzzanpore, pretty dull and longing for a change or some sort of excitement to relieve the monotony of my work, when a letter came from a great friend of mine, Charlie Eccles, who sent me an invitation which made my mouth water.

'I'm going on a month's leave,' Charlie wrote, 'shooting; the sport will be mostly snipe and other small game, but there's a chance of tigers. Now, I know you are a busy man—— '

Bobby laughed rudely when Ralph quoted these words. 'I say, Ralph, your friend couldn't really have written that,' he said. 'You a busy man! I can't imagine you ever doing any work!'

Ralph looked offended. 'I should like you to be aware,' he observed, with much majesty, 'that before my uncle left me the income which I now enjoy, I worked very hard indeed as a tea-planter.'

'Sorry,' laughed Bobby—'my mistake. You don't look like a chap who has been overworked; does he, Vandeleur?'

Ralph ignored the jest, and continued his quotation. 'I know you are a busy man,' he repeated, 'but if you could spare the time, and would join me, we should have a rare old time. Start next Friday, and be at Malabad, where I shall meet you, on Monday. Bring as many cartridges as you can lay hands upon, for we shall have plenty of snipe and partridge, whether we come across big game or no.' Charlie then gave me a list of the dÂk bungalows at which he might be found at certain dates, in case I should not be able to start upon the day indicated. I meant to start on the Friday as he had suggested, but some of our native workmen went wrong—there was a kind of little mutiny—and I was delayed nearly a week, assisting my partner to arrange matters. When this had been satisfactorily settled, I collected my sporting traps and started, making for the bungalow at which Charlie had intended to put up on the sixth day of his trip.

When I reached my destination, which was a dÂk bungalow, or little house built by the Government for the accommodation of Britishers travelling by road between towns which are too far apart to be reached within the day's journey, I found Charlie Eccles was not yet at home. The two servants left in charge at the bungalow reported that he had gone tiger-hunting, a 'bad' tiger having been reported in the district, by which was meant a man-eater—a beast which had killed and eaten a native postman and others, and which Charlie, on his arrival, had been implored to destroy.

The native shikaris or hunters were absent with my friend, I therefore did the best thing possible under the circumstances—I ordered my lunch, and sat down to enjoy it.

It was very hot, and I think I had fallen asleep over the cup of coffee which the servant set before me after my meal, when I was awakened by a sudden uproar from outside, and, starting up, I went out to see what was happening. Down the road I saw several straggling natives—every one of them was running, and every one of them was shouting or crying or blubbering, or what not.

I walked towards them; as yet I had not thought of possible disaster. I met the first man, apparently a beater, for he carried a kind of native drum for striking in the jungle when the tiger is to be moved, and set afoot for the benefit of the sportsman. 'What is the matter?' I asked him. 'What are you and these other fellows howling for?'

The man salaamed, and assumed an expression of the greatest misery. 'The sahib!' he exclaimed; 'the poor sahib—the bad tiger. Alas! how terrible are the misfortunes that happen in the world!'

'Which sahib? is it Sahib Eccles you speak of? What has happened? Stop blubbering, fool, and tell me plainly!'

'He is eaten, sahib—killed and eaten; here comes the chief shikari with the sahib's own rifle—let him tell you.'

The shikari came flying down the road; he saw me and stopped, salaaming very low. 'Benefactor of the people!' he exclaimed. 'Protector of the poor! there has been a calamity, sahib; though you have come too late, I thank the gods that you are here—you can at least find and slay the accursed beast. Oh, miserable man that I am! My good master, Sahib Eccles! so young and so brave, and to die in the teeth of such a beast! oh, woe! woe!'

My heart stood still. Did I dream, or were these men really telling me the dreadful news that poor Charlie had been killed by a tiger?

I could scarcely speak, but I contrived to return to the verandah of the bungalow and to sink upon a chair. The shikari had followed me to the house, lamenting aloud.

'Stop!' I said, angrily. 'Now tell me plainly what has happened.'

The man began his tale. It was to have been a battue, he explained. Natives had come overnight, hearing that a sahib had arrived. They reported that a bad tiger had lived for a month in the jungle, close to the village. It had already killed and eaten three persons, besides destroying many bullocks belonging to the people. 'Unless the sahib comes to our assistance and kills the beast, we are lost—we and our children!' they told him. The Sahib Eccles had been delighted to hear of the tiger; it was just what he most wanted. 'Are there beaters to be had?' he asked. Fifty beaters were found in the surrounding district, but the reputation of the tiger was so bad that all the men and women were very nervous, and the sahib had laughed when told about them, and had said that he did not think they would be of much use if they were so frightened before they went into the jungle.

Nevertheless, the Sahib Eccles chose a tree for himself in a place where he could see well in many directions, and climbed up into the branches, and the beaters were placed at a distance around the place where the tiger was supposed to be lying. The beat began; that is, the natives shouted and banged their drums, and smote the trees with sticks, and produced horrible sounds from many different kinds of instruments; but, almost as soon as the noises began, the tiger suddenly uttered a single, terrible roar, and (said the shikari) nearly all the beaters immediately left for home. The beat ended, there were no more weird noises, and silence fell upon the jungle.

'I was with the Sahib Eccles in his tree,' said the shikari; 'and, first the sahib was very angry indeed, and then he laughed.

'"We shall do no good up here," he said, "for the tiger will not move unless he is driven." He had killed a bullock in the night, and was lazy with much food. "Dare you enter the jungle with me, shikari? You heard where the beast roared—there or thereabouts we know his position. Shall we make an attempt to move him, you and I?"

'There were one or two beaters close at hand. They had not dared to run away because they were in full view of the sahib and of me. "These men shall help us," said the sahib, "if they dare; they shall walk behind us and shout."

'"We will try, sahib," I replied; "but he is a dangerous beast and very crafty."

'"I have two rifles," the sahib said, laughing, "and they are also dangerous beasts."

'So we two climbed down from the tree and spoke to the beaters, who then followed us into the jungle, keeping well behind us. They must not shout, we told them, until told to do so, when we came close to the place where the tiger had roared.

'Then we moved slowly and cautiously into the jungle, looking this way and that, the sahib walking in front and I a few yards behind; and, behold, we had scarcely walked for two minutes when suddenly came three loud noises, almost simultaneously—first a terrible roar from the tiger, then the report of the sahib's rifle, then a shriek from the sahib himself and—— '

The shikari placed his hands before his eyes as though to shut out some horrible picture, and groaned aloud.

(Concluded on page 98.)