The Young Rajah

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“You may go this very day, as the khan is about to set out,” said the rajah. “For myself, I am getting too old to engage in such sports for amusement. I may have ere long to lead my troops to battle; but that is a very different affair. Horses are already prepared for you.”

In a few minutes Reginald and his friend found themselves in the midst of a large party of Oriental cavaliers in gay costumes, mounted on richly-caparisoned steeds, headed by the Khan Mukund Bhim, who was a remarkably good horseman. Off they set at a rate which, in little more than an hour, carried them to a distance of twelve miles or more from the city. They now entered a wild part of the country, on the borders of a forest, where a band of huntsmen, with several cheetahs and eight or ten trained stags, had been appointed to meet them.

“We will show you some fine sport presently,” said the khan; and after allowing their horses a little rest, they again set forward. A party of bearers followed, carrying in a cage a cheetah or hunting leopard, an animal which may be described as in size and shape between the hound and the leopard. Its body is slenderer and more elevated than that of the latter animal, while it does not possess the graceful form of the common leopard; and its head, which is smaller, is peculiarly ugly; its tail is like that of a cat; and its body seems formed more for strong muscular exertion than for active and long-continued speed. Though possessing the sagacity and fidelity of the dog, it is undoubtedly feline in its habits. Its general colour is a bright yellowish-brown, lighter on the sides, and nearly white beneath, marked with numerous small black spots all over, which are continued along the tail so as to appear like rings; its ears are short and rounded, while from each eye a blackish mark runs down to the corners of the mouth, the extremity of the nose being black. The fur, instead of possessing that sleekness which distinguishes the feline race, is peculiarly crisp.

As the party neared the spot where it was expected that the deer would be found, the cheetah was taken out of its cage and led forward by a keeper with a chain, just as a large dog would be led—its head, of course, being covered. When led without any such protection, it is very difficult to manage. Should it scent a trail upon the ground, it begins to throw its head aloft and peer about. To restore its tranquillity, the keeper places a cocoanut shell sprinkled on the inside with salt to the animal’s nose. The cheetah licks the salt, and losing the scent forgets the object which attracted its attention. As soon as it again exhibits signs of excitement, the cocoanut shell is applied to its nose, and it again becomes manageable.

At length several deer appeared at a short distance, on some marshy ground, with bushes intervening. The khan gave a signal to the keeper, who slipped the leash, and the cheetah began to steal cautiously towards the herd, taking advantage of the bushes and high grass to conceal itself. On it went like a cat, till it got within a short distance of the deer. They at length discovered its approach, and went bounding forward over everything that impeded their progress, jumping, running, and wading through the marsh with frantic energy. The cheetah’s blood was up. It singled out one of the animals, and away it went, bounding catlike over the bushes; plunging into the morass, though hating water, rather than allow its prey to escape. Off started the hunting party, now keeping their eyes on the flying deer, now upon the persevering cheetah. It was no easy task, however, to keep the chase in sight, as they scampered over the marsh and thick grass. Indeed, they put the horsemanship of all the party to the test. While the rest of the deer escaped on either side, the one the cheetah had fixed on had kept a straight course, now by the side of a nullah, now over the wiry grass, now through thick bushes. The cheetah meanwhile skimmed over the surface of the ground, as if requiring no rest for its feet. The forest appeared ahead. Should the deer once reach it and force its way through, even the persevering cheetah would have a difficulty in following. The poor deer, however, worn out with the long chase, and overcome with fear at the indefatigable pursuit of its bloodthirsty foe, leaped headforemost into a thicket, under the belief that it was the commencement of the forest. Its branching horns were caught for a moment, and before it could extricate them, the ferocious cheetah, bounding forward, was upon it, and instantly seizing its neck, pulled it to the ground.

The khan and his companions arrived just as the poor creature was at its last gasp, turning up its beautiful eyes as if imploring mercy from its persecutors. The huntsmen soon put it out of its agony, and it was carried off by the bearers; while the panting cheetah allowed its keeper quietly to slip the chain over its head and lead it away to its cage.

“Come, we must now show you the way we hunt with our stags,” said the khan.

Galloping on, they reached the spot where the trained stags, with their keepers, had been waiting for them. Proceeding to another part of the open forest, the party arrived at a spot towards which a band of beaters had driven a herd of deer. Here the animals stood grazing, protected by their watchful guardians, the most warlike and powerful of their males. They could be seen in the far distance. The tame deer were now set at liberty, and advanced at a gentle trot. The males in charge of the herd immediately advanced to meet them. At first they seemed to doubt whether the strange ones came as friends or foes. But the matter was soon settled. The two parties were quickly engaged in a fierce contest, the wild animals rushing forward with great fury, meeting the tame ones—antlers to antlers, and heads to heads. The latter, formidable-looking animals, stood generally on the defensive, each being engaged with a wild adversary, not mimicking war, but fighting desperately. As the hunting party advanced, the herd, catching sight of them, took to flight, but the combatants were too furiously engaged to observe the spectators of the fight. They saw before them only their adversaries, and did not even remark the party of native huntsmen on foot, who, stealing round to their rear, got between them and the forest. Concealing themselves, they advanced stealthily towards the combatants, with long knives gleaming in their hands. Had any one of the wild stags retreated and observed them, they would have been in imminent danger, but there was little fear of that. Getting up close behind the still fighting wild deer, with one stroke of their weapons they hamstrung the brave creatures. Having performed this deed, they hurried away; and the latter, pressed by their adversaries, fell to the ground, unable to move.

The keepers now called off the tame deer, who immediately obeyed, without attempting to follow up their victory. Many of them bore evidence of the severity of the contest by their gored chests, from which the blood was streaming. They seemed to disregard their wounds, however, as if proud of their success, and capered about joyously, tossing their antlers. Meanwhile the huntsmen approached and finished the butchery they had commenced, by cutting the throats of the noble stags, as they helplessly lay in various attitudes on the sward, looking up at their conquerors with those large black eyes of theirs in a way which seemed to ask how human beings could be guilty of such cruelty.

“But how do your people manage to catch and tame the deer which have just so well played their part?” asked Captain Burnett of the khan.