Part 10 (1/2)
Perhaps the tiger will escape; perhaps if he comes out in an evil way of mind the elephant will run away.”
”Well, Swinton, if you'll ride back and get Gilfain--what guns have you?”
”I've a Certus Cordite and my old .450 Express.”
”Good as any. Soft-nosed bullets?”
”Yes, I have some.”
”Well, use them; we'll be pretty close, and you'll want a stopping bullet if the old chap charges. What's Gilfain got?”
”A battery--a little of everything, from a .22 Mannlicher up to a double-barrel, ten-bore Paradox.”
”Tell him to bring the Paradox--it won't take as much sighting as the rifle; Gilfain has probably done considerable grouse shooting. He's almost sure to miss his first tiger; nerves go to pieces generally. I'll get two elephants--you and Lord Victor in one howdah, and I'll take Mahadua in the other.”
”If you've got a bullet-proof howdah I'd use it, major; I've seen that young man do some bally fool things.”
”I wish I could take Burra Moti,” Finnerty said regretfully; ”she's a good hunting elephant, but without her bell I couldn't depend on her.”
”Use the stone I've got for a clapper.”
”No, thanks.”
”Why not? It will be under your eye all the time. You can take it off at night and put it in your box. Besides, n.o.body will suspect that there's another sapphire in the bell.”
”I won't have time to have a goldsmith beat the bell into shape to-day.”
Chapter VI
Swinton drove back to get Lord Victor. When his two elephants were ready, Finnerty, with the Banjara marching at his side, took the road that, halfway to Darpore City, forked off into a wide stretch of dusty plain that was cut here and there by small streams and backwaters; these latter places growing a heavy rush gra.s.s that made good cover for both the tiger and his prey--swamp deer and pig.
Swinton and Lord Victor were at the fork in the road, the latter attired in a wondrous Bond Street outfit. ”Awfully good of you, old chap,” he bubbled. ”Devilish quick work, I call it; I'll feel like cabling the governor in the morning if I bag that man-killer.”
”If I had Burra Moti under me, I'd think that we as good as had the tiger padded,” the major declared; ”but I don't know anything about my mount to-day. I don't know whether he'll stand a charge or bolt. Keep your feet under those iron straps; they're the stirrups, Lord Victor.”
”Right-o.”
They went down off the hill, with its big rhododendron trees, and out onto the wide plain, directed by the Banjara. In an hour they came to a small stream fringed by green rushes; along this for half a mile, and the Banjara pointed with his bamboo to a heavy, oval clump of gra.s.s, saying: ”The outcast of the jungle is in that cover, sahib.”
”Now this is the plan,” Finnerty outlined to Swinton. ”Stripes is evidently pretty well fed, and hasn't been shot at, so he's cheeky. He won't leave that gra.s.s in this hot sun unless he has to--that's tiger in general--but this cuss may have some variations. He's quite aware that we're here. Hark back on this road that we've come by till you reach that old, dry river bed, and go down that till you come to a _nala_ that runs out of this big patch of gra.s.s. I'll wait till you're posted there, then I'll beat in slowly through the gra.s.s from this side, not making much fuss so that Stripes won't think I'm driving him. When he breaks cover from the other end he'll make for that _nala_. Don't shoot till you're sure of your shot; just behind the shoulder, if possible, but raking forward--that's the spot.”
”Sahib,” and the Banjara pointed with his bamboo to where a small bird was circling and darting with angry cries above the canes.
”Yes, that's where he is,” Finnerty declared; ”that's a bulbul--pugnacious little cuss--trying to drive Stripes away.”
Finnerty waited until he was quite sure Swinton and his companion would be in position; then at a command his mahout prodded the elephant with a hooked spear, crying: ”Dut-dut, king of all elephants, dut-dut!”
With a fretful squeak of objection the elephant, curling his trunk between his tusks for its safety, forged ponderously ahead. Like a streamer from the topmast of a yacht the bulbul, weaving back and forth, showed Finnerty the tiger was on the move. The major did not hurry him, knowing that if pressed too close he might break back, thinking he was being driven into a trap.
The Banjara, anxious to see the finish of the beast that had slain his cow, worked his way along the gra.s.s patch, watching the bulbul and Finnerty's howdah, which just showed above the canes. As the tiger stealthily slipped away from the advancing elephant other jungle dwellers in the kagar gra.s.s moved forward to escape from the killer.