“Hah! you tooched me!” exclaimed the disappointed naturalist, looking fiercely round, while the amazed ape sent forth a bursting crack of its air-gun as it swung itself into the tree-top and made off.

“Yes, I touched you, and if you will shoot when I am so close to you, you cannot wonder at it—­especially when you intend to take life uselessly.  The time now at the disposal of my friend Nigel Roy will not permit of our delaying long enough to kill and preserve large specimens.  To say truth, my friend, we must press on now, as fast as we can, for we have a very long way to go.”

Verkimier was not quite pleased with this explanation, but there was a sort of indescribable power about the hermit, when he was resolved to have his way, that those whom he led found it impossible to resist.

On arriving at the village they were agreeably surprised to find a grand banquet, consisting chiefly of fruit, with fowl, rice, and Indian corn, spread out for them in the Balai or public hall, where also their sleeping quarters were appointed.  An event had recently occurred, however, which somewhat damped the pleasure of their reception.  A young man had been killed by a tiger.  The brute had leaped upon him while he and a party of lads were traversing a narrow path through the jungle, and had killed him with one blow of its paw.  The other youths courageously rushed at the beast with their spears and axes, and, driving it off, carried the body of their comrade away.

“We have just buried the young man,” said the chief of the village, “and have set a trap for the tiger, for he will be sure to visit the grave.”

“My friends would like to see this trap,” said the hermit, who, of course, acted the part of interpreter wherever they went, being well acquainted with most of the languages and dialects of the archipelago.

“There will yet be daylight after you have finished eating,” said the chief.

Although anxious to go at once to see this trap, they felt the propriety of doing justice to what had been provided for them, and sat down to their meal, for which, to say truth, they were quite ready.

Then they went with a large band of armed natives to see this curious tiger-trap, the bait of which was the grave of a human being!

The grave was close to the outskirts of the village, and, on one side, the jungle came up to within a few yards of it.  The spot was surrounded by a strong and high bamboo fence, except at one point where a narrow but very conspicuous opening had been left.  Here a sharp spear was so arranged beside the opening that it could be shot across it at a point corresponding with the height of a tiger’s heart from the ground—­as well, at least, as that point could be estimated by men who were pretty familiar with tigers.  The motive power to propel this spear was derived from a green bamboo, so strong that it required several powerful men to bend it in the form of a bow.  A species of trigger was arranged to let the bent bow fly, and a piece of fine cord passed from this across the opening about breast-high for a tiger.  The intention was that the animal, in entering the enclosure, should become its own executioner—­should commit unintentional suicide, if we may so put it.