Part 26 (2/2)

”No. He says we saw no one because we spoiled the hunt by going like a marriage procession; that we went by the road, and that his brother, the watchman, saw Prince Ananda watching us, both going and coming.”

”The sahib will have rested now, and the sun is hot,” the Banjara interposed.

Finnerty, rising, placed the men; Swinton behind the flat boulder he had sat on, and from the top of which his gun would range the cave mouth; two convenient trees were allotted to Mahadua, the herdsman, and his brother when the dogs had been slipped. Finnerty would stand on some ground a little higher where he could rake the nala, both up and down, should the leopard bolt.

The dogs had been given a noseful of the leopard's trail, and, when they were slipped, with a chorus of yelps they made for the cave, while their owner slipped nimbly to his allotted tree. It was a tense moment; the Banjara, perched on the lower limb of a mhowa, was avariciously hoping the leopard would kill the whole pack, for at ten rupees a head they were better dead.

Mahadua's face grew grave as, instead of the tumult of a fierce battle, stillness held within the cavern; the eager yelps of the dogs as they had scrambled over lose stones to enter the cave had ceased. The leopard was, no doubt, a spirit, and had perhaps hushed the dogs. At any rate, a flesh-and-blood leopard would now be giving battle and voices of pain and pa.s.sion would be filling the cavern with cries.

Finnerty was muttering: ”d.a.m.n if I can make it out; it's a rummy go!”

At that instant the pack came stringing out, and the leader stood looking wonderingly at the sahibs.

”They are afraid,” Mahadua jeered; ”they went in thinking it was a hare.

Oh, they are a true Banjara pack!”

The herdsman put a hand on a long knife in his belt, and with fury in his eyes said: ”Will the Presence take a slipper to this monkey's mouth or shall I open its windpipe? The leopard is not within, for my dogs do not lie.”

The pack was now running about in the silly, aimless manner of ”gaze”

dogs where there is no quarry to see, and only a scent that is cold to their very dull nose-sense.

The s.h.i.+kari pointed this out, saying: ”Keeper of mud cows, if the leopard had but just pa.s.sed out in the fear of your coming he would have left a fresh scent trail that even your dogs, who hunt but by the eye, would have found, and if the chita is not a spirit he is still within.”

The Banjara drew his long, vicious knife, but as Finnerty grasped his arm he said, pointing in disdain at Mahadua: ”This is a knife for game, not for cutting the throat of a chicken; I go into the cave to prove that of dog or s.h.i.+kari the s.h.i.+kari is the liar.”

At this his brother also drew a knife, and, calling to the dogs, who sprang at his bidding to the cave, the two Banjaras followed at their heels.

”We might have a look; it's altogether mysterious,” Finnerty said, turning to the captain.

The latter nodded. ”I've got an idea; we'd better go in!”

They pa.s.sed into a long, narrow chamber--so long that it reached into deep gloom, with no end wall showing. They could see the dogs pa.s.s into the mysterious black shadow beyond and again reappear; always, going and coming, they sniffed at one spot. Here Finnerty struck a match, and Mahadua, dropping to his knees, examined the rock, saying: ”The leopard rested here--there is blood.”

Led by Finnerty, they followed the dogs along the corridor, coming upon a blank wall. There was no leopard; he had vanished as mystically as a spirit might have done. Finnerty lighted matches, but there were only the sullen walls on three sides.

”It is as I have said,” the Banjara growled; ”Mahadua, who has grown too old for the hunt, gave forth so much monkey chatter that the sahib saw not the leopard pa.s.s.”

Mahadua lifted his cap. ”See, hunter of cow tics, I take off my head-cover to thee as a great s.h.i.+kari. Sahib,” he pleaded, ”turn back this owner of mongrels, for I know where the chita will be found.”

”Where?” Finnerty questioned.

”He will go up in the hills to the village of Kohima, where he was caught in a trap. It is said he killed many people near that village, for he was a man-eater.”

”How far is Kohima?”

”It is six kos, or perhaps eight, and again it might be that it is ten by the road, but the chita will go through the jungle in a matter of half that distance.”

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