"Ay, zur, all right."
"Keep a wary lookout then; but if we were to come across the creature, ten to one it would rather slink away than attack us."
"It won't do that," said the Karen; "this is a man-eater."
"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Gilchrist quickly, turning upon the native.
"Man-eater tiger, paya,—tiger that roams about alone, and eats nothing but human flesh. There was one about the village a little while ago, but we thought it had gone, for we have not seen it lately. It has eaten five or six men that I know of. It is an old beast, very large, very fierce, and very cunning. Nobody can kill it."
This description fired Denham's ambition at once—he longed to kill that tiger. What a feather in his cap could he but contrive to do so! He was just about to exclaim in his eagerness, when Mr. Gilchrist expressed an opposite desire, so he thought it best to hold his tongue.
"I hope we shall not come across it," said the more pacific elder man. "Do your best to keep us out of its way. How shall you know whether it is the man-eater if we should be so unlucky as to fall across it?"
"Man-eater dark coloured, paya. Mangy about its head, fur worn off in patches,—man flesh bad for him, not agree, you know."
"I have heard something about that before," said Mr. Gilchrist. "I believe that it is a question as to whether the creature is diseased from improper food, or whether it be too old to chase its natural prey as nimbly as would be necessary to secure enough, so is driven to entrap men, who are more unwary. But, see, there is a very choice clump of the orchids, let us set to work."
They were busily engaged in selecting orchids, when a rare and beautiful butterfly came sailing along on widespread painted wings, and Denham, who collected these insects with ardour, gave chase. He followed it somewhat deeper into the jungle, unheeding of the distance from his party to which it was leading him; but Wills cast an uneasy eye in the direction which he had taken, and presently moved to follow him.