“The tiger is a shy, morose, and unsociable brute,” Dr. Fayrer remarks, “but like all animals of high type, the range of individual differences is very great.” “Nearly every tiger,” observes Moray Brown, “has a certain character for ferocity, wiliness or the reverse—of being a man-eater, cattle-lifter, or game-killer—which is well known to the jungle folk.”
The tiger’s overlordship of the jungle is not maintained without some reverses. A bear sometimes beats him off, but usually these contests end in the bear’s being devoured. Sanderson, together with others, reports this upon personal observation. Wild boars occasionally avenge the death of their fellows. Inglis found the bodies of both combatants lying side by side.
Single buffaloes are killed by a tiger; but when a herd is combined against him, as is always the case when his presence is discovered, he has no chance of success. Inglis (“Work and Sport on the Nepaul Frontier”) describes such an event, and as it is the only narrative of this kind the author has met with, his account is given in full.
“One of the most exciting and deeply interesting scenes I ever witnessed in the jungles ... took place in the month of March, at the village of Ryseree, in Bhaugulpore.
“I was sitting in my tent going over some accounts with the village putwarrie and my gomasta. A posse of villagers were grouped under the grateful shade of a gnarled old mango tree, whose contorted limbs bore witness to many a tufan and tempest which it had weathered. The usual confused clamor of tongues was rising up from this group, and the subject of debate was the eternal ‘pice’ [small coins].
“A number of horses were picketed in the shade, and behind the horses, each manacled by weighty chains, with their ponderous trunks and ragged-looking tails swaying to and fro with a never-ceasing motion, stood a line of ten elephants. Their huge leathery ears flapped lazily, and ever and anon one would seize a branch, and belabor his corrugated sides to free himself from the detested and troublesome flies.
“Suddenly there was a hush. Every sound seemed to stop simultaneously as by prearranged concert. Then three men were seen rushing madly along the elevated ridge surrounding one of the tanks. I recognized one of my peons, and with him there were two cowherds. Their head-dresses were all disarranged, and their parted lips, heaving chests, and eyes blazing with excitement, showed that they were brimful of some unusual message.
“Now there arose such a bustle in the camp as no description could adequately portray. The elephants trumpeted and piped; the syces and grooms came pushing up with eager questions; the villagers bustled about like so many ants roused by the approach of a foe; my pack of terriers yelped in chorus; the pony neighed; the Cabool stallion plunged about; my servants rushed from the shelter of the tent-veranda with disordered dress; the ducks rose in a quacking crowd, and circled round and round the tent; and the cry arose of ‘Bagh! Bagh! Khodawund! Arree Bap re Bap! Ram Ram, Seeta Ram!’
“Breathless with running, the men now tumbled up and hurriedly salaamed; then each with gasps and choking stops, and pell-mell volubility, and amid a running fire of cries, queries, and interjections from the mob, began to unfold their tale. There was an infuriated tigress on the other side of the nullah, or dry watercourse, and she had attacked a herd of buffaloes, and it was believed she had cubs.
“Already Debnarain Singh was getting his own pad-elephant caparisoned, and my bearer was diving under my camp bed for the rifles and cartridges. Knowing the little elephant to be a fast walker, and fairly stanch, I got upon her back, and accompanied by the gomasta and mahout we set out, followed by the peon and herdsmen to show us the way.