Marching and counter-marching
through the heat of the day, we picked up another-prize in the
afternoon. It was a large old tiger, nine feet six as he lay; he fell an
easy prey to the gun of the little collector of Pegnugger, who sent a
bullet through his heart at the first shot, and smiled rather
contemptuously as he removed the empty shell of the cartridge from his
gun. He would rather have had Kildare's chance in the morning.
After all, two tigers in a day was not bad sport for the time of year. I
knew Isaacs would be disappointed at not having had a shot, where his
rival in a certain quarter had had so good an opportunity for displaying
skill and courage; and I confessed to myself that I preferred a small
party, say, a dozen elephants and three howdahs, to this tremendous and
expensive _battue_. I had a shot-gun with me, and consoled myself by
shooting a peacock or two as we rolled and swayed homewards. We had
determined to keep to the same camp for a day or two, as we could enter
the forest from another point on the morrow, and might even beat some of
the same ground again with success.
It was past five when we got down to the tents and descended from our
howdahs, glad to stretch our stiffened limbs in a brisk walk. The dead
tigers were hauled into the middle of the camp, and the servants ran
together to see the result of the _sahib log's_ day out.
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