The dog, which was not affectionate generally, and indifferent to being noticed, belonged to Mr. A.'s brother, and had previously taken no interest in anyone but his master, but after this event, he refused to go home with his master, and stuck closely to the wounded man, and when some carbolic was applied by Mr. A.'s brother which caused pain to the wound, the dog began to growl and showed signs of displeasure. The dog would not allow anyone to come near Mr. A. except his own special servant, and lay under the bed with his nose sticking out, and keeping close guard. When Mr. A. was carried to the doctor some thirty-five miles away the dog went too, and on the doctor applying carbolic, and setting the bones, which caused pain, the dog at once seized the doctor by the leg. (Evidently looking on him as tiger No. 2, I suppose.) In about three months Mr. A. was quite cured, and after that the dog lost all interest in him, and returned to his master; and if he met Mr. A. by chance, merely acknowledged him by the faintest wag of his tail. A year afterwards this dog, happening to meet the doctor, whom he had not met since, at once flew at him and seized him by the trousers.
One great danger attending the bite of a tiger is that of blood-poisoning from the frequently foul state of the animal's jaws, and it is, of course, of great consequence to cleanse wounds as soon as possible and apply carbolic. An engineer in the northern part of Mysore a good many years ago was bitten on the thigh by a tiger, and so little hurt that he walked home and went on with his business as usual, but a few days after he was suddenly taken ill and very soon died. Of course there may happen to be no foul matter about the tiger's mouth, and a Hindoo peasant wounded when I was out with no less than thirteen wounds in the arms—several of them double wounds as the man had thrust his locked arms into the tiger's mouth to keep him off—completely recovered. He goes by the nickname of Tiger Linga Gouda, and I always make a point of sending for him when I visit Mysore. On one occasion I was showing the marks of the wounds to a lady, and said that there were thirteen wounds. "Thirteen," echoed Linga Gouda, "There were fifteen, and you have forgotten those two on the head, and I slept on your bed too," he added with an air of great satisfaction—in fact he seemed to attach more importance to that than to anything connected with the transaction. I had given him up my bed because it was a broad one, and so most convenient for resting his lacerated arms. The natives were certain that he would die, and I felt a great triumph in bringing him round. The great thing with wounds of that kind is of course to cleanse them well, and apply carbolic if you have it (I had none on this occasion) and afterwards cover the wounds with damp lint, which should be kept constantly moist by frequent applications of water. This was done in the case I have alluded to. The arms, of course, swelled greatly, and the heat arising from them was very great, hence the need for the constant application of water. The flow of blood from the arms was checked by a tourniquet.
I never but once heard of a mad tiger. This animal was made over in an inoculated condition by a friend of mine to the Garden in Bangalore. He had caught it when out tiger shooting, and, when on the way to Bangalore, he had chained it outside his tent where it was attacked and bitten by what turned out to be a mad Pariah dog.
Before concluding this chapter I must say a few words, which perhaps ought to have been said at an earlier period, as regards one of the most important points of tiger shooting—i.e., that of taking up such a position as will enable you to fire to right or left without moving your body, or rather I should say without moving it more than in a most infinitesimal degree, for, as I have previously shown, it is movement of any kind which alone readily attracts the attention of an animal. It is evident that, if you sit facing the point from which the tiger is expected, though you can readily fire at him without moving if he passes to your left (and, as has been shown, you should not fire till he is just passing you) you cannot do so if he passes to your right without turning your whole body half round in that direction—a movement which might catch the eye of the tiger. To surmount this difficulty Sir Samuel Baker has invented a small stool with a revolving top, which is no doubt air excellent thing if there is time to erect a suitable platform on which to support the stool, but it often happens that positions have to be taken up in a hurry, and that you have to sit on the fork of a branch, or on the ground behind a bush or rock, where the tiger may pass on either side. In such cases the shooter should sit facing nearly full face to the right, as he can, with hardly any perceptible movement of his body fire readily to his left, and he should instruct his man with the second gun to point with his finger in order to indicate the side on which the tiger is approaching.
In all the books I have read about tigers I have never met with an allusion to tigers purring like cats from satisfaction, but a brother planter informs me that he heard a wounded tiger, that had killed one of the natives who was following him up, purr for several minutes, as he described it, "like a thousand cats." The evening was closing in when the accident occurred and as the jungle was thick nothing could be done. On the following morning the man and the tiger were found lying dead together.
Of all sports tiger shooting affords the most lasting satisfaction, and it is especially interesting when one lives in tigerish localities where one has more leisure and opportunity for going into all the details of this delightful sport, and where a knowledge of the people and their language makes the sport so much more agreeable, and one's acquaintance with the ground enables one to take an active and intelligent part in regulating the plan of operations when a tiger has killed. Then in the case of an animal so destructive it is seldom possible to feel any commiseration, though I have done so on certainly one, or perhaps two occasions. Against many sports something may be said, but that is impossible as regards tiger shooting. The tying out of live baits may be objected to, but after all the tooth of the tiger is to be preferred to the knife of the butcher.
[15] G. P. Sanderson's "Thirteen Years among the Wild Beasts of India," 1878.
[16] "Reminiscences of Life in Mysore, South Africa and Burmah." By Major-General R. S. Dobbs. London, Hatchards, Piccadilly, 1882.
[17] Vide Appendix C.