After making the tired man draw innumerable sketch-maps in the sand, with reiterated descriptions of the hut, &c., I allowed the poor wretch to go to his dinner; and in anticipation of a weary night's watch, I squeezed my eyes together and tried to sleep.
The sun begins to acquire his evening slant, and I joyfully leave my bed to prepare for my nocturnal expedition. The cook is boiling fowl and potatoes; they are ready; and now he pours his clear strong coffee into the three soda-water bottles by his side; everything is ready, in the little basket, not forgetting a bottle of good beer. Now then commences the pleasing task of carefully loading our battery.
Come, big "Sam Nock," king of two-ouncers, what is to be the fate of these two great plumbs that you are now to swallow? Am I to cut them out of the tiger's ribs to-morrow?—or are they idly to be fired away into the trunk of a tree, or drawn again?
All loaded, and pony saddled, let us start: the two white cows and their calves; the matress and blanket rolled up and carried on a Cooly's head: Shikaree, horsekeeper, and a village man with the three guns, while I myself bring up the rear. Over a few ploughed fields, and past that large banian-tree, the jungle begins.
What is this black thing? and what are those people doing? That hideous black image is the jungle god, and to him the villagers look for protection for their flocks.
How they stare at the man dressed in his mud-colored clothes, who has come so far, and sacrifices sleep and comfort, to sit and watch at night for the evil genius of their jungles. Children are held up to look at him—at the English jungle-wallah, who drinks brandy as they drink milk, and who is on his way to the deepest fastnesses of the wooded waste, to watch for the tiger alone—a man who laughs at gods and devils—a devil himself. The Shikaree, who had been earnestly engaged in conversation with the oldest looking man of the group, now ran up and informed me that the Gooroo had given him to understand that the Sahib would certainly kill the tiger this night, and that it was expected that he would subscribe fifteen rupees to the god, in the event of the prediction proving true. Come, we have no time for talking. Hurry on, cows and guns, hurry on! through the silent jungle, along the narrow path. How much farther yet. Not more than a quarter of a mile; we are close to it. And now the people who know the whereabouts stop and look smilingly on one another, and then at the Sahib, whose practised eye has but just discovered the well-built ambush.
In a small clump of low jungle, on the sloping bank of a broad, sandy watercourse, the casual passer-by would not have perceived a snug and tolerably strong little hut,—the white ends of the small branches that were laid over it, and the mixture of foliage, alone revealing the fact to the observant eye of a practised woodman. No praise could be too strong to bestow on the faithful Shikaree; had I chosen the spot myself, after a week's survey of the country, it could not have been more happily selected. The watercourse wound its way through the thickest and most tigerish section of the jungle, and had its origin at the very foot of the hills, where tigers were continually seen by the woodcutters and shepherds. There was little or no water within many miles, except the few gallons in a basin of rock, which I could almost reach from my little bower; and, to crown all, there were the broad, deep puggs of a tiger, up and down the nullah, in the dry sand, near the water's edge, of all ages, from the week, perhaps, up to the unmistakable fresh puggs of last night.
Let us get off the pony, and have a look at the hut. Pulling a few dry branches on one side, the small hurdle-door at the back is exposed to view, hardly big enough to admit a large dog; down on your knees and crawl in. Five feet long, four feet wide, and four feet high in the centre, is the extent of the little palace; a platform, a foot from the ground, occupies the whole extent to within a foot of the front end facing the bed of the watercourse. On this platform the matress is laid, and some big coats and the blankets make a very comfortable pillow. Remove that little screen of leaves, and you look through a window, ten inches square, that commands a view fifty paces up and down the sandy nullah. Sitting on the end of the bed-place, just behind the window, with your feet on the ground, nothing can be more comfortable; and when tired, you only have to draw up your legs, and curl yourself on the matress to enjoy a short nap, if your prudence cannot conquer sleep. Into this hut which I have endeavored to describe, did I now crawl; the matress was arranged, the handsome and carefully loaded battery was next handed in, and each gun placed ready for action; the cold fowl and bottle of Bass were in the mean while disposed of, and the soda-water bottles of cold coffee were stowed away in cunning corners.
The sun is resting on the hill-tops, and will soon disappear behind them; the peafowl and jungle-cock are noisily challenging amongst themselves, and the latest party of woodcutters have just passed by, showing, by their brisk pace and loud talking, that they consider it high time for prudent men to quit the jungle.
To the deeply-rooted stump of a young tree on the opposite bank, one of the white cows has been made fast by a double cord passed twice round her horns. Nothing remains to be done; the little door is fastened behind me, the prickly acacia boughs are piled up against it on the outside, and my people are anxious to be off. The old Shikaree makes his appearance in the nullah, and wishing me success through the window, asks if "all is right?" "Every thing; get home as fast as you can: if you should hear three shots in succession before dark, come back for me,—otherwise, bring the pony at six to-morrow morning,—and a cup of hot coffee, tell the cook."