ENCOUNTER WITH LION.
465. M——e’s courage was reckless. Having more than once failed in getting a shot at a formidable lion which had committed great ravages, and was reported to be of immense size, he determined upon tracking the beast to his rocky fastness, and forcing him to a hand-to-hand combat in his very den. One morning a recent spoor[89] enabled him to find the cave he sought, the entrance of which was so contracted that in order not wholly to exclude the light, he was compelled to lie down and crawl in upon his elbows. Pushing the muzzle of his gun before him, slowly, inch by inch he crept on, expecting every moment to see the large, glaring, cat-like eye-balls, or to hear the menacing growl. His sight becoming more accustomed to the gloom, he was enabled to scan every crevice, and was satisfied that the master of the habitation could not have yet returned from his nocturnal rambles. Bones of large size were strewn about, as well as others whose suspicious appearance prompted the involuntary reflection that the absent animal was in very truth the dreaded “man-eater” who had so long baffled all pursuit. Nothing daunted, but rather aroused by the thought to an increased determination to destroy the monster, M——e resolved quietly to await his return.
466. Hour after hour passes. The shades of evening fall. The bark of the jackal and the howlings of the hyæna, showing the advance of night, meet his ear,—but not the longed-for roar of the expected lion. Surely he will again seek his lair while the bright moon yet favours the intrepid sportsman. No—he comes not. Complete darkness sets in—darkness intense in that deep recess;—but ere long the discordant screams of the peacock announce the early dawn, and after a while the hot beams of the sun again hush all into silence, save the busy hum of innumerable insects. Horrible suspense! The weary hours drag on—still he returns not; and there still sits M——e, but not the man he was. Anxious excitement—want of sleep—and, above all, the deprivation of bodily stimulants, have done their work. He was agitated and unnerved. To quote his own words when afterwards recounting the adventure, he “would have given worlds to have been away, or to have had a flask of brandy.” What madness, he thought, could have tempted him to seek such certain destruction? Had the taint of his feet raised the animal’s suspicions? Was his presence detected? And was the shaggy monster watching outside, crouching low, ready to spring when his victim should be forced by hunger to emerge? Quit he dare not; yet to remain with nerves unstrung was terrible. In his diseased state of mind imagination conjured up awfully harrowing scenes in which man in his feebleness had succumbed;—and was it really decreed that his crushed bones should mingle unhonoured and unnoticed with the heap around him? Hours that seemed days of torture passed away—again the sun reached the zenith—again it sets—and again it shines upon the remains of huge limbs, and upon those of slighter mould that bear a fearfully close resemblance to his own! The sun has sunk behind the summit of the distant hills, already the short twilight commences. Can he survive another night of horrors, or shall he, risking all, rush forth.
467. Suddenly a deep and angry growl is heard. It acts as music upon his soul—his nerves are at once restored to their pristine firmness—strong is his pulse—steady his hand; his countenance lights up with hope and animation; and as the cave is darkened by the entrance of its legitimate but no longer dreaded owner, the favourite barrels are deliberately levelled with the accustomed deadly aim.
A REGULAR BORE.
“Dropped upon his right knee,—brought his firelock to the charging position.”—Par. [468].
ENCOUNTER WITH BOAR.
468. The Hindoos, who are naturally an inoffensive timid race, have an almost fabulous reverence for the courage of Europeans, whom they often term fighting devils—an epithet applied in no disparaging way, but, on the contrary, as the highest of compliments. The Assistant-surgeon (B——h) and a Lieutenant (D——n), of a regiment to which I once belonged on the Indian establishment, were travelling up the country. On arriving early one morning at their breakfast tent (which had been sent forward as usual the preceding evening), they were met by the Cutwal and principal men of the small village, bearing a trifling present of fruit. After many salaams, the deputation said that the villagers were in the greatest distress,—that an enormous wild boar and a sow had taken up their abode in the neighbouring sugar plantation,—that the crop was fully ripe, but that whenever the labourers ventured in to cut the canes they were driven out by a charge of the swine; that the whole body, women as well as men, had united more than once in an attempt to alarm the intruders with the noise of tomtoms, cholera horns, firing of matchlocks, &c., but that the unclean brutes would not leave, and that the inhabitants had nearly resigned all hope of saving the crop, when they had the happiness of hearing that an English officer was expected, who, as a matter of course, could have no objection to shoot the vicious animals. D——n and B——h willingly consented to start directly after breakfast. The former was a keen sportsman, but the latter had never fired a gun; however, he said he would do his best; and being furnished with an old musket, he sallied forth “at fixed bayonets.” Almost the moment they entered the cover a crashing noise warned them to be on their guard. The boar, without an instant’s hesitation, rushed at the invaders, making a special selection of the individual least accustomed to arms. B——h, in no way daunted, dropped upon his right knee,—brought his firelock to the charging position,—and calmly waited to pull trigger until the formidable beast was so close upon the bayonet, that he knocked the piece out of B——h’s grasp, and sent him spinning heels over head. On regaining his feet, B——h found that his formidable adversary was already dead; the bayonet, much bent in the encounter, was buried deep in his huge chest; and subsequent examination showed that the ball had severed his heart into two nearly equal portions. The sow had apparently quickly become aware of the mischance that had befallen her mate, for she ignominiously fled from the field at her best pace. In reply to the thanks, congratulations, and encomiums bestowed upon the worthy Assistant-surgeon for his success and admirable coolness, he quietly observed, that all was well that ended well; that it was an awful beast; and that he would take precious good care never voluntarily to encounter such another;—that he had had his first shot, and fervently hoped it would be his last.
GREYHOUNDS AND KANGAROO.