But the beautiful was now exchanged for the sublime, when that scene appeared lit up suddenly and awfully by lightning, which now momentarily exchanged a sheet of intensely dazzling blue light, with a darkness horrible to endure—­a light which showed the many streams of water, which now appeared like ribbons over the smooth slabs of rod that lay on the slope of the hills, and gave a microscopic accuracy of outline to every object, exchanged as suddenly for a darkness, which for the moment might be supposed the darkness of extinction—­of utter annihilation—­while the crash of thunder over head rolled over the echoes of the hills, “I am the Lord thy God.”

The storm was at length over, the nullah run dry again.  Damp and sleepy, with arms folded and eyes sometimes open, but often shut, I kept an indifferent watch, when the cow, struggling on her legs, and a groan, brought me to my senses.  There they were.  It was no dream.  A large tiger, holding her just behind the ears, shaking her like a fighting dog.  By the doubtful light of the watery moon, did I calmly and noiselessly run out the muzzle of my rifle.

I saw him, without quitting his grip of the cow’s neck, leap over her back more than once.  She sank to the earth, and he lifted her up again.  At the first opportunity, I pulled trigger.  The left hand missed, I tried the right—­it went off—­bang!

Whether a hanging fire is an excuse or not, the tiger relinquished his hold and was off with a bound.  The cow staggered and struggled, and, in few seconds, fell, and, with a heavy groan, ceased to move.  The tiger had killed the cow within a few feet of me, and escaped scathless.

Night after night did I watch for his return.  I had almost despaired of seeing him again, when, one night, about eleven o’clock, my ears caught the echo among the rocks, and then the distant roar—­nearer—­nearer—­nearer; and—­oh, joy!—­answered.  Tiger and tigress!—­above all hope!—­coming to recompense me for hundreds of night watchings—­to balance a long account of weary nights in the silent jungle, in platforms on trees, in huts of leaf and bramble, and in damp pits on the water’s edge—­all bootless; coming—­coming—­nearer and nearer.

Music nor words, dear reader, can stand me in any stead to convey the sound to you; the first note like the trumpet of a peacock, and the rest the deepest toned thunder.  Stones and gravel rattled just behind the hut on the path by which we came, and went, and a heavy step passed and descended the slope into the nullah.  I heard the sand crunching under his weight before I dared to look.  A little peep.  Oh, heavens! looming in the moonlight, there he stood, long, sleek as satin, and lashing his tail—­he stood stationary, smelling the slaughtered cow.  No longer the cautious, creeping tiger, I felt how awful a brute he was to offend.  I remembered how he had worried a strong cow in half a minute, and that, with his weight alone, my poor rickety little