Like all the cat tribe, they are very cruel in disposition, often most wantonly so.  Having disabled his prey with the first onset, the tiger plays with it as a cat does with a mouse, and, unless very sharp set by hunger, he always indulges this love of torture.  His attacks are by no means due only to the cravings of his appetite.  He often slays the victims of a herd, in the wantonness of sport, merely to indulge his murderous propensities.  Even when he has had a good meal he will often go on adding fresh victims, seemingly to gratify his sense of power, and his love of slaughter.  In teaching her cubs to kill for themselves, the mother often displays great cruelty, frequently killing at a time five or six cows from one herd.  The young savages are apt pupils, and ‘try their prentice hand’ on calves and weakly members of the herd, killing from the mere love of murder.

Their cunning is as remarkable as their cruelty; what they lack in speed they make up in consummate subtlety.  They take advantage of the direction of the wind, and of every irregularity of the ground.  It is amazing what slight cover will suffice to conceal their lurking forms from the observation of the herd.  During the day they generally retreat to some cool and shady spot, deep in the recesses of the jungle.  Where the soft earth has been worn away with ragged hollows and deep shady water-courses, where the tallest and most impenetrable jungle conceals the winding and impervious paths, hidden in the gloom and obscurity of the densely-matted grass, the lordly tiger crouches, and blinks away the day.  With the approach of night, however, his mood undergoes a change.  He hears the tinkle of the bells, borne by some of the members of a retreating herd, that may have been feeding in close proximity to his haunt all day long, and from which he has determined to select a victim for his evening meal.  He rouses himself and yawns, stretches himself like the great cruel cat he is, and then crawls and creeps silently along, by swampy watercourses, and through devious labyrinths known to himself alone.  He hangs on the outskirts of the herd, prowling along and watching every motion of the returning cattle.  He makes his selection, and with infinite cunning and patience contrives to separate it from the rest.  He waits for a favourable moment, when, with a roar that sends the alarmed companions of the unfortunate victim scampering together to the front, he springs on his unhappy prey, deprives it of all power of resistance with one tremendous stroke, and bears it away to feast at his leisure on the warm and quivering carcase.