"We sing at night because we can't help it, and not because of ill will to the Men-kind," corrected Gidar.
"Well, one night, as the Jackals were in the middle of a heavy chorus, they suddenly ceased; a silence as of death came over everything; it seemed as though all life had gone miles away from that part of the country. Then came a hoarse call which shook my little bungalow——"
"I know," interrupted Gidar, "when we stop singing and move away silently it is to make room for Bagh the Killer. We object to being seen in the company of a murderer like that."
"Yes, it was Tiger," asserted Sa'-zada, "and two Sahibs, who were my companions, and, like myself, new to the country, determined to get him.
"So next evening we took a Goat and tied it just inside the Jungle, each one of us lying down on the ground at a short distance from our bait. But the Goat commenced to browse quietly and refused to bleat. I tried jumping him up and down by the tail and back of his neck, and he'd bleat just as long as I'd pump. At last I tied him up so that he stood on his hind legs, and he called then with full vigor. For the matter of an hour we lay thus, when presently, behind me, I heard the stealthy step of some huge Jungle Dweller coming for the Goat.
"It was the most deliberate animal I had ever waited for; it seemed hours that those carefully planted feet had been heading towards the back of my head. I could see nothing, for I was facing the other way, and I dared not turn over for fear of frightening the approaching Tiger away. This is a true tale, Comrades, and I did not like overmuch the idea of Bagh or Pardus, whichever it might be, pouncing upon me from behind."
"And they would do it," declared Gidar, "for there is a saying in their tribe that 'a kill from behind is a kill of skill.'"
"Were you afraid, little Master?" asked Hathi.
"I didn't like it," answered Sa'-zada, evasively.