IN THE JUNGLE (continued)

Through the jungle bound also the swift deer and the graceful antelopes, who so often have to fly before the pursuit of their fierce neighbours the tiger and the panther. The panther, when wounded, is actually more feared by the hunter than is the tiger. The panther is much smaller than the tiger, and his grey skin, dotted with black spots, enables him to hide himself easily among the tangle of the forest undergrowth, for he resembles a patch of shade. His limbs are long and powerful, and he is the nimblest of all the jungle dwellers. He can run like a leopard and climb like a monkey.

He often lies in wait for his prey on a broad, low-hanging branch; then, as the deer passes below, he springs full upon it, and bears it to the ground. He is very savage, and always full of fight, and his ferocity is employed with wonderful cunning. Two men have been known to fire upon a panther and hit it. They were apparently safe, each in a machan set in a tall tree. The wounded brute has darted up one tree and clawed the man there in fearful fashion; then, quick as lightning, it has descended, climbed into the second tree, and attacked its second assailant. No other animal does this. As a rule, a wounded beast makes a blind rush; but the panther seems to reason, to calculate.

The bear is just the opposite. The natives consider him the most stupid of animals. They say he is so stupid that he does not know enough to get out of the way. He will stretch himself in the warm dust of a jungle path, and lie there until, in the dusk, the passer-by stumbles over him. Then he is angry. He rises and strikes out with his long claws, and often deals terrible wounds, for he strikes at the head. One writer speaks of seeing a man whose face was torn away—every feature gone—with a single stroke of a bear's paw. But it is easy to avoid this. On such a path a native sings or shouts as he walks along. The bear is aroused by the noise, and moves away into the jungle.

The wild boar gives great sport over the plains and among the hills of India. He is hunted on horseback, just as the fox is hunted in England, save that each rider has a spear with which to strike at the big, savage beast. When he turns at bay he is a very dangerous animal. First he "squats"—that is, he turns round and sits on his haunches—thrusting out his snout, armed with great sharp tusks, towards his pursuers. Then he picks out a horseman, and charges him furiously. A fine hand with a spear will now stop him with a thrust in a vital part; but if the thrust fails, the boar will often fetch down horse and rider.

Then comes a time of great danger, for the boar will rip up both horse and man with swift turns of his keen tusks unless his attention be drawn aside by other attacks. In the end he falls under many spear-thrusts.

A walk through an open piece of jungle is very beautiful. The bamboos with their feathery crowns, the many trees covered with beautiful flowers, the merry bands of monkeys which skip from branch to branch, all draw the eye and the attention; but, at the same time, it is best to watch where you are going. All of a sudden your native guide stops you and tells you to step carefully. You look, and see something in the path among the sand looking like a dirty little stick. But do not tread on it. It is the deadliest snake in India, and its bite means certain death. Or you think you would like to sit down on a fallen tree to rest. Well, do not sit on that log which seems to have a bright patch of fungus growing about the middle of it. Throw a stick at the patch first. Ah! it uncoils, and a venomous reptile slides into the grass with angry hiss.

Look out, too, for the hooded cobra, who will sometimes dispute the way with you, rearing himself on his lower coils, and erecting his swelling hood, and "meaning venom." But the most wonderful snake of all is the huge python, the boa-constrictor, 20 to 25 feet long, and with a body as thick as a man's thigh. This huge snake destroys its prey by pressure, winding its coils round the creature's body, and crushing it to death. Then it swallows the body entire.

Another creature greatly dreaded by the natives belongs partly to the land and partly to the water. This is the alligator—a hideous grey brute, with huge jaws, furnished with long rows of teeth, and a long tail of immense power. On land the natives trouble little about this great reptile, for his legs are short and his powers of pursuit are small; but in the water or on the sandy margin it is a very different affair. Be careful where you bathe or draw water. A single sweep of that powerful tail will hurl you into the stream, and the alligator, lurking in the shallows, has seized you for his prey. Above all, it is necessary to be careful when walking along the pleasant sandy bank which often borders a river. Here and there grey logs seem to be lying on the sand. They may be logs or they may be alligators sunning themselves. In the latter case, if the walker be on the land side, well and good; but if he incautiously ventures between the alligator and the river, it is at the peril of his life. With the aid of his powerful tail, the frightful reptile hurls himself across the sand for a short distance at wonderful speed, then his mighty jaws open and close upon his victim, and the latter is dragged under water in the twinkling of an eye.

The tiger himself, unmatched in combat with any other beast of the jungle, sometimes falls a prey to the alligator. Coming to drink at the river, the king of the jungle is seized by the waiting reptile. A terrific struggle follows. Unable to wrench himself from those mighty jaws, the tiger uses his terrible fangs and claws on the alligator's back. Here for once they fail on that coat of horny scales. The tiger does not know that the alligator is soft beneath, and there could be ripped up by his claws of steel, and he continues to spend his strength in vain. Inch by inch he is dragged into the river, and once under water, he is lost. He swiftly drowns, and the alligators feast on his body.