The old Major now bade us good evening, and after padding the second tiger, and much elated at our success, we began to beat homewards, shooting at everything that rose before us.  A couple of tremendous pig got up before me, and dashed through a clear stream that was purling peacefully in its pebbly bed.  As the boar was rushing up the farther bank, I deposited a pellet in his hind quarters.  He gave an angry grunt and tottered on, but presently pulled up, and seemed determined to have some revenge for his hurt.  As my elephant came up the bank, the gallant boar tried to charge, but already wounded and weak from loss of blood, he tottered and staggered about.  My elephant would not face him, so I gave him another shot behind the shoulder, and padded him for the moosahurs and sweepers in camp.  Just then one of the policemen started a young hog-deer, and several of the men got down and tried to catch the little thing alive.  They soon succeeded, and the cries of the poor little butcha, that is ‘young one,’ were most plaintive.

The wind had now subsided, there was a red angry glare, as the level rays of the setting sun shimmered through the dense clouds of dust that loaded the atmosphere.  It was like the dull, red, coppery hue which presages a storm.  The vast morung jungle lay behind us, and beyond that the swelling wooded hills, beginning to show dark and indistinct against the gathering gloom.  A long line of cattle were wending their way homeward to the batan, and the tinkle of the big copper bell fell pleasingly on our ears.  In the distance, we could see the white canvas of the tents gleaming in the rays of the setting sun.  A vast circular line of smouldering fire, flickering and flaring fitfully, and surmounted by huge volumes of curling smoke, shewed the remains of the fierce tornado of flame that had raged at noon, when we lit the jungle.  The jungle was very light, and much trodden down, our three howdah elephants were not far apart, and we were chatting cheerfully together and discussing the incidents of the day.  My bearer was sitting behind me in the back of the howdah, and I had taken out my ball cartridge from my No. 12 breechloader, and had replaced them with shot.  Just then my mahout raised his hand, and in a hoarse excited whisper called out,

‘Look, sahib, a large tiger!’

‘Where?’ we all exclaimed, getting excited at once.  He pointed in front to a large object, looking for all the world like a huge dun cow.

‘Why, you fool, that is a bullock.’  I exclaimed.

My bearer, who had also been intently gazing, now said.

‘No, sahib! that is a tiger, and a large one.’

At that moment, it turned partly round, and I at once saw that the men were right, and that it was a veritable tiger, and seemingly a monster in size.  I at once called to Captain S. and the magistrate, who had by this time fallen a little behind.

‘Look out, you fellows! here’s a tiger in front.’