place in a tree near the carcase, and this time I resolved to follow Mr. Sanderson’s advice, and begin to watch quite early in the afternoon.  My man finished his arrangements by about midday, and, after breakfasting at home, I returned with him to the spot at about three o’clock.  Horror of horrors, the carcase was gone again.  My head shikari—­the Rama Gouda, whom I have previously noticed as being such a cool and daring fellow—­was enraged beyond measure.  He at once, without saying a word, cut a creeper from the nearest tree, and without even a gun in his hand set off on the trail, but not, I observed, before gun-bearer number two, also a daring fellow, had looked at him with an inquiring eye, as much as to say, “are you not a trifle rash?” I followed Rama Gouda, though I was not quite sure of the prudence of our proceedings, and presently we perceived by the chattering of a squirrel that the tiger was moving along close to us.  Then we came to the carcase, of which there was now only about half left, and from the tracks about it, and the quantity of flesh eaten, Rama Gouda was satisfied that the tiger must have watched him making his preparations and then carried off the carcase the moment he had left.  Rama Gouda now lashed the creeper to the bullock’s horns, and, with the aid of the second man, proceeded to drag it back to the watching place he had prepared, and which was about one hundred yards away.  By this time, the hinder part of the bullock had been eaten and only the fore part was intact and the carcase smelt horribly.  There was something so ludicrous in the whole thing that I could not, and much to Rama Gouda’s surprise, help laughing.  The unfortunate animal had first been driven thirty miles from his home into these remote forests, then killed, then his remains were carried off as we have seen, and then again carried off, and now what was left was being dragged back again to the watching place.  Rama Gouda soon arranged matters to his satisfaction by restoring the remains to their original position, but certainly not to mine, for there presently arose a most asphyxiating stench, which seemed to fill the entire air, and reminded one of what soldiers must often have experienced in our eastern campaigns.  We waited till it was too dark to see to shoot and then went home, and early next morning I had to start for the coast, and thus ignominiously ended the only attempt of the kind I ever made.  The tiger was evidently an old hand and was playing a regular game of hide and seek with us.  The great error made was the neglect of Mr. Sanderson’s advice as to chaining the bait in the first instance.  Some tigers always carry off the carcase each time they visit it, and a friend of mine told me that when he was once sitting over a carcase, the tiger made a sudden rush, picked up the carcase in the course of it, and made off so suddenly that he had no time to fire.

I can easily understand that, as Mr. Sanderson says, there is a considerable charm and interest connected with this method (and in some cases it is the only method) of pursuing tigers, but I can see that it requires much experience, caution, and patience, and I would particularly advise those interested in this matter to consult Mr. Sanderson’s valuable work.