“Only my revolver,” said Bose “but I must push on and take my chance.”  And as the palki now stood ready and the bearers declared themselves refreshed, he thanked his host for his ready assistance, bade him farewell and started once again.

The bearers were full of spirits after their rest at the merchant’s house and for a mile or two travelled at a rapid pace; but the narrow winding road impeded their progress, and as the night advanced the eerie sounds of the forest must have got on their nerves.  At the commencement of the journey they had beguiled the march with stories of tigers and bears met in the forest, but after some hours of travel they became silent; and beyond the usual directions of the forward men concerning the road and occasionally a shrill cry to scare away wild animals, they made no remarks to each other.

Within the palki, Bose lay fitfully dozing.  The night was oppressive and his thoughts were on the murder and his chances of a successful capture of the wrong-doer.  The road had become wider and level and the men were going along at a good pace, when suddenly they dropped the palki to the ground and fled in all directions.  Bose shouted:  “What is up?  Why have you run away?” No answer greeted his ears but a strange odour penetrated his nostrils and he knew there was a tiger in the jungle.  He quickly pulled the doors of the palki jamming them as securely as he could with the ends of his razai (quilt).  Then he tore the strong border off his dhoti (loin cloth) and commenced to bind the handles of the doors together.  He had just finished firmly lashing together the handles on one side when he heard an ominous growling.  With frantic haste he bound the handles of the opposite doors together, praying fervently that he might escape the jaws of the tiger.

The animal continued growling.  Evidently the dark bulk of the palki frightened him.  Bose sat inside, huddled in a heap and breathless.  The tiger, re-assured by the stillness of the object before him, ceased growling; and presently, the soft thud of his feet and his sniffing round the palki told the trembling man within that ‘Stripes’ was making an investigation.

Now a mighty roar shook the jungles and Bose realised that the tiger had leapt upon the roof of the palki and was scratching furiously at it.  Bose clutched the handles of the doors and held on to them with the grip of despair.  The tiger scratched and growled and finally bounded off the top and began a vigorous assault upon the side.  The palki toppled over on to its other side.  Poor Bose congratulated himself that now one of the doors rested upon Mother Earth and he could give his whole energy to defending the other.  He gripped the handles with renewed determination and waited.