"The tailors will need till the rails are safe to get you fitted; and before the monsoon comes, I suggest that you take your hunter up into the cheetah hills. Cheetahs are not supposed, by those at Home, to attack men. Many of them will not; but they are unreliable. The forfeits they have taken from unbelief have made them a bad reputation, among the English."
"The cheetahs I have seen in cages have been mild, compared with tigers."
"Cheetah kittens are snared and broken at once by hard handling; meaning that it is not the cheetah himself, but what is left of him, one sees either in the kennels of the princes or in the foreign cages. You will remember my warning about his character?"
"Thank you, yes."
"Good. I have known men to prefer not . . . Then you will carry yourself alert in any kind of jungle. If you sight a cheetah, be prepared; he may not attack. He may. Few men have eyes good enough to follow him after his first spring. One should be a perfect shot; are you that?"
"I am a good shot, but I don't like to kill animals."
"Then I am the last man to commend you to the cheetah hills . . . if it were not for Nels. He is entirely competent to take care of you, unless in one possible emergency. They sometimes, but rarely, work in pairs. If ever the dog should be occupied with one and another should be in sight—be sure your unwillingness to kill does not delay you to the instant of charge."
"You imply that it is necessary to carry a gun in any kind of jungle—always?"
"Always wise, of course; but I consider it less imperative just now, because the animals are not what we call fighting. They are waiting for the great monsoon. So—you might take your dog up into the cheetah hills—"
"I don't see how a dog—"