Intense stillness around and behind us; even the jungle had ceased to whisper. Everything seemed waiting in eager expectancy. But, before us, drawing ever nearer and nearer, were the beaters, rattling sticks and cans, whistling, shouting, and playing on "tom-toms," while between them and us, aroused from its heavy sleep, slinking away from the noise and disturbance was——what? The possibilities of a jungle drive are endless. Suddenly the high grass beneath my tree parted, "Now for it," I think. But no! it is only a gyee, hurrying away with scared eyes from the unknown danger behind. It may escape to-day; its enemy, man, is after bigger game.
Ever nearer drew the beaters. "Will it never end?" I whisper. But what was that? A loud report close to my ear; something flashes past in the grass below, there is a loud roar of pain and fury, and then "all is over except the shouting."
For a few moments we waited in astonishment that it is all over so quickly, and in doubt if the animal be really dead. Then everyone tumbled simultaneously from their perches and hurried to the spot.
There lay the tiger, quite dead, but looking so lifelike that while I put my hand in his mouth or felt his cruel claws, I was conscious of a half fear lest he should be only shamming, and should come to life again with a sudden spring. The beautiful skin was uninjured, save where the bullet had entered the spine, and as we looked at him, the very emblem of strength and beauty lying there, slain without even a fight for life, I think we all felt a little pity.
But pity soon gave way to triumph. The beaters arrived and crowded round the tiger, laughing and chattering; mocking the animal which had held them in such terror while he lived, and trying to steal his whiskers, which the Burmans value as charms.
But we soon found we were hot, thirsty, and tired, so we set out on our return journey to Remyo, the beaters carrying our victim in triumph fastened on a long bamboo. News of our success had preceded us, and as we approached the village we were met by an immense crowd of admiring natives, in that condition of giggling and jabbering excitement to which only a crowd composed largely of Madrassees can attain. So persistent were the attacks made upon the tiger's whiskers, that it became necessary at last to tie his head up in a bag, and in that undignified condition he was borne home and deposited safely in the club compound, where during the day, he was visited and admired by every inhabitant of the station.
Thus ended my first and only tiger shoot. How I wish I could electrify my readers with descriptions of expeditions wherein I myself would appear as the heroine, shooting tigers, and performing other moving exploits by flood and field. But it may not be. The eager search after truth which has been so noticeable lately among the British public, restrains such interesting flights of fancy, and in these days, romancers who would display their quality to an appreciative audience, must address themselves to the Marines, or to the British Association.
There is endless variety of game in the neighbourhood of Remyo. Snipe are almost as common as sparrows at home; partridges, peacocks, jungle fowl, gyee, and hares all abound, and many an enjoyable shooting expedition is undertaken, sometimes with, sometimes without the excuse of "business" in the district.