"They dug little holes from the top, and bound me with strong ropes; it was so narrow I couldn't turn round, you see. Then I was sent here to Sa'-zada. Though he is good to me, still I wish I was back in my old jungle."
"Ah-h-houk! Great Brothers," roared Raj Bagh. "My mate has told you of Chittagong and his tea gardens, but the middle jungles in India is the place for a Tiger to rule; and for years I was Lord of the Sumna Forests, and the terror of the Gonds, the little black-faced Men who are wondrous Shikaris. Close grass. Waw-hough! but it was beautiful there. The many red faces of the chewal tree smiled at me, and the purple ears of the sal tree listened to my roar till its great branches trembled in fear. Close hid in the Khagar grass I would lie and sleep all through the long hot day, and the little Gonds, even the big, white-faced Men, might pass the length of this cage from me, and not know that I was there. But I would know. Talking, talking always they would go, and if they were up wind, my nose would find them many jumps away.
"I was born there, and Baghni, my Mother, and Sher Bagh, my Sire, taught me all that a Tiger should know of the ways of the Men-kind. But in the end both of them came to their death through the evil ways of these seekers for our lives. Wah, wah, wah-hough! I am a Man-killer. And why not?"
"You should be ashamed to say so," cried Magh, petulantly, "and before Sa'-zada, too."
"Wah! I was a Man-killer," repeated Raj Bagh, "a killer of many Men, but it was not my fault. When I was a cub my Sire was Lord of the Sumna Jungles; and close to our lair was a jhil to which all animals of those parts came to drink when they were hot, and the hills blazed red with the evil fire of the little Gonds. Chetal, and Nilgai, and Sambhur, and the Ribbed-Faced Deer that coughed like a Wild Dog; even Chinkara, the little Gazelle that is but a mouthful for one of my needs—all came there when the forest grew dark; and always when we were hungry, which was often, more came than went away. It was ever the same with Sher Bagh, who was my Sire, and Baghni, always the same way in a kill with them. In those days I watched it often, for I, being a Bagheela, took no part except in the eating. Chita walks not softer in his cage than Sher Bagh would step through the jungle when he was stalking a kill; and then at the end with a rush it was all over.
"But one year it became so hot—why, the rocks burned our pads as we walked; so hot that our jhil dried up, and none of the Jungle Dwellers came to drink. It was hot, so hot, and never a drop of the sweet water falling. The fire crept down from the hills and ate up the small part of the jungle and the grass, and I think the Jungle Dwellers went to other parts. At any rate, as Brother Bagh has said, we were sore distressed for a kill. Of course, we could go and drink where the other Dwellers dared not, close to the villages of the little Gonds. I remember, being but a Baghela and having little wisdom, saying to Baghni, 'Why do we not kill Goru (cattle) and Bainsa, who are here in the hands of the Men-kind?' But Sher Bagh, who had lived into much wisdom, growled, and striking me hard with his paw, said, 'Little one, that way comes the full hate of the Men-kind, and we who fear not the Dwellers in the Jungle, fear Man.'
"But still we became more hungry, and Baghni, whose milk was my only food, grew unwise and said, 'Let us kill the Goru.' But Sher Bagh growled at her, and said again, 'That way comes the hate of the Men-kind. Now when these little men who are Gonds pass near to me in the jungle, they salaam and say, "Peace be with you, Sher Bagh, Huzoor Bagh"; and they go in peace, and the fear that is on me when I look in their eyes passes away.'
"For many nights after that we wandered far through the jungle, I with Baghni, and Sher Bagh by himself in another part. And in the days that were so hot, as I slept, great times of blood drinking and sweet meat-eating came to my mind—but when I woke there was nothing—nothing but hunger pains in my stomach. It was also this way with Baghni and Sher Bagh. Many times Baghni said, 'Let us kill the Goru, for of what use is the good will of the Men-kind if we die?'
"At last Sher Bagh also became unwise, and said, 'We will kill the Goru, for Baghela and you, Baghni, are starving. When the Goru feed in a herd to-morrow, even in the time of light—which, of course, was the day—together we will creep close in the much-thorned korinda, and kill a Cow; for if we kill one in a herd there will be less trouble, and perhaps it will not be missed of the Men-kind.' Wah! I shall never forget the sweet eating of that Goru. And the drink of blood! Che-hough! it was as though I had been athirst since my birth.
"Sher Bagh dragged the Goru to a jungle of Kakra trees, and we ate it all. But the next day the Horned Ones did not feed in that place, and as we were walking in the close of the daytime Sher Bagh heard the thin-voiced cry of a Gond cart coming over the road; it was like the song of the Koel bird; it was made by the wheels, I think. 'There will be Goru to the cart,' said Sher Bagh. 'Yes, two of them,' answered Baghni, 'but also one of the Men-kind, a little Gond.' 'Even now I am hungry,' declared Sher Bagh; 'when I roar in front of the Goru the little Gond will pass quickly into a sal tree, and then we can eat of his Bullocks.'