the bison a monstrous tiger passed along quite close to one of the party, the Maharajah’s brother-in-law.  On the bank of a river they came upon a nest of young pythons.  The guests thought it was a curious mound; but the Maharajah recognised the reared heads of the young snakes and told his friends what the heap was.  When they came closer, they could see that the long slimy bodies were all twisted together; and with an uncanny feeling, the sportsmen watched these serpents uncoil themselves from each other and glide away and disappear through the grass.

Once, after a long and fruitless day in the jungles, the Maharajah decided he would try his luck stalking some deer that he spied on the opposite side of a narrow strip of jungle.  He accordingly left his elephant and began to creep through the long dry bramble-choked grass with his rifle in his hand.  As he pushed his way through the thick jungle he fancied he heard an animal breathing and then something crackled.  Intent on the deer before him, he concluded that he had broken a twig or a branch with the end of his rifle and pushed on.  As he emerged from the thicket on the opposite side from where he had entered, he came face to face with a group of shepherds.  They stared at him in amazement and then, recognising him as their Maharajah, fell at his feet in rapturous joy.  Accustomed as he was to demonstrations from his people, their abandon struck him as something unusual, and he was about to question them when they exclamed:  “Hoozoor, Dharmabatar, (Your Honor, Royal Master,) how did you come in safety through that jungle?” He smiled at their wonderment and was about to chide them gently when they continued:  “An immense tiger has just slain one of our cows and dragged it into that very jungle from which Your Honor has emerged.”  The Maharajah now understood that the sound he had heard as he pushed his way through the jungle was the tiger enjoying a feed of his kill, and he felt thankful that he had not stumbled directly upon it.  Like the keen sportsman he was, he signalled his elephant and, mounting it, secured the feasting tiger with an easy shot.

One cold season, the Viceroy was enjoying a shoot on the Maharajah’s estates.  One evening, as they were dressing for dinner, there came through the stillness of the restful air the “twitter” of a tiger.  Do many of my readers know what the “twitter” of a tiger is?  It is a sound the Monarch of the Jungle makes and it is just like the twitter of a bird;—­in fact, some declare it is only the twitter of a bird.  Well, on this particular evening, the tiger must have been passing quite close to the camp, for his “twitter” was clear and unmistakeable.  The Maharajah, with his usual courtesy, immediately bethought himself of his guests, and invited Their Excellencies to come out into the open and listen to the novel sound.  They did, and very pleased and proud they were when they heard the tiger’s “twitter” clearly and distinctly through the gathering shade and stillness of the darkening night.