Being a newspaper man, I naturally took out an old letter upon which to jot down his instructions. I faithfully carried out all his directions, and it is to be remarked in passing that on removing the wax from my nostrils, I was conscious of a strong odor of Scotch whiskey.
CHAPTER IX.
We started on our tiger-hunt. Miss Eastinhoe rode on an elephant, about which Jacobs, who loved the saddle, circled gayly, keeping up a fire of little compliments and pretty speeches of which he had thoughtfully brought a tiffinful with him, but to which the lady very fortunately soon became inured. He had also taken the precaution to have relay's of runners bring fresh roses half-way across India every morning for Miss Eastinhoe, whom he amused meantime by playing beautifully on the tiffin and warbling Persian love-songs.
CHAPTER X.
Guided only by a native tiffin, upon whom he showered an astonishing profusion of opprobrious epithets, Mr. Jacobs went forth in the dark and stilly night, and slaughtered a huge man-eating tiger, for whose ears Miss Eastinhoe had expressed a singular, but well-defined longing. The beast measured twenty-four feet, and, by stretching the story a little, I was able to say twenty-seven.
"My dear fellow," I said, "I am sincerely glad to see you back alive."