Archive image from page 99 of The diary of a sportsman. The diary of a sportsman naturalist in India . diaryofsportsman00steb Year: 1920 74 DIARY OF A SPORTSMAN NATURALIST streaks across it. 'Twas all I could see, but I knew it was my first tiger lying on its back I got down, called up the man who had again gone part of the way down the tree, and sent him up to see what I had seen, which he quickly corroborated. The question now to be faced was, what was to be done ? It was no good firing at what I could not see, and I had no intention of spoihng the skin by trying aimless shots at what I wa
Archive image from page 99 of The diary of a sportsman. The diary of a sportsman naturalist in India . diaryofsportsman00steb Year: 1920 74 DIARY OF A SPORTSMAN NATURALIST streaks across it. 'Twas all I could see, but I knew it was my first tiger lying on its back I got down, called up the man who had again gone part of the way down the tree, and sent him up to see what I had seen, which he quickly corroborated. The question now to be faced was, what was to be done ? It was no good firing at what I could not see, and I had no intention of spoihng the skin by trying aimless shots at what I was convinced was a dead tiger. I had fired at the head and I felt that the bullet, by some marvellous luck, had gone truly home. After some con- sideration we called out to the men who were some way off in the open above, and, as soon as they were near enough, explained the position to them. They sent down a few bushel-loads of stones, sticks, and mud, etc., to wake up the brute should he be only stunned or wounded, and I then got down and, accompanied by the Rajput Forest Ranger, armed with a prehistoric implement he called a rifle, we marched up to the tiger and found him lying on his back, his legs in the air, with a bullet-hole just beneath his right ear. Death had been instantaneous We stood round, and the requiem of the dead monarch was shouted by a babel of voices, all explaining how much they had helped in the deed of death, the number of buffaloes and cows the marauder had eaten, with other details of his hfe history, the refrain, which came in at intervals when want of breath stopped the chief performers, consisting of a chorus of grunts and wah wah wah wahs It was now nearly dark, and leaving instructions that the beast was to be brought straight in, I turned away, and for the first time for nearly an hour became aware of the fact that I was wet, cold, hungry, stiff and tired. The rain was coming down as if it meant to continue, and I had six weary miles to get
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