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We had proceeded with a line of about five-and-thirty elephants, well extended ten yards apart, and in this manner we had advanced about a mile, when our attention was attracted by a native calling to us from a large ant-hill which enabled him to be distinguished above the grass. We immediately rode towards him, and were informed that a tiger had killed his cow the night before, and had dragged the body into jungle so dense that he had been afraid to follow. This was good news; we therefore took the man upon an elephant as our guide towards the reported spot.

The elephants continued to advance in line, occasionally disturbing wild pigs and hog deer, which existed in great numbers, but could hardly have been shot even had I wished, as the grass was so thick and long that the animals could not be seen; there were only signs of their disturbance by the sudden rush and the waving of the grass just in front of the advancing elephants, who were thus kept in continual excitement.

In about twenty minutes we emerged from the high grass upon a great extent of highly cultivated land, where the sandy loam had been reduced to the fine surface of a well-kept garden. Bordering upon this open country was an extensive jungle composed of trees averaging about a foot in diameter, but completely wedged together among impenetrable reeds fully eighteen feet in length, and nearly an inch in thickness, in addition to a network of various tough creepers, resulting from a rich soil that was a morass during the rainy season. Although the reeds appeared tolerably dry, they would not burn, as there were signs among some half-scorched places where attempts had been recently made to fire the jungle.

Our guide soon pointed to the spot where his cow had been dragged by the tiger into this formidable covert. There was no mistake about the marks, and the immense tracks in the soft ground proved the size and sex of the destroyer.

Nobody questioned the fact of the tiger being at home, and the only question was "how to beat him out." The jungle was quite a mile in length without a break in its terrible density; it was about half a mile in width, bounded upon one side by the cleared level ground in cultivation, and on the other by the high grass jungle we had left, but this had been partially scorched along the edge in the attempts to burn.

A good look-out would have spied any animal at a hundred and fifty yards had it attempted to leave the jungle.

As the country was a dead level, it was difficult to forecast the retreat of a tiger when driven from such a thicket, and it was a serious question whether it would be possible to dislodge him.

Whenever you commence a drive, the first consideration should be, "If the animal is there, where did it come from?"–as it will in all probability attempt to retreat to that same locality. There was no possibility of guessing the truth in such a country of dense grass, and with numerous islands of the same character throughout this portion of the Brahmaputra, but there was one advantage in the fact that one side was secure, as the tiger would never break covert upon the cultivated land; there remained the opposite side, which would require strict watching, as he would probably endeavour to slink away through the high grass to some distant and favourite retreat.

I therefore determined to take my stand at the end of the thick jungle which we had passed upon arrival, at the corner where it joined the parched grass that had been fire-scorched, and near the spot where the cow had been dragged in. I accordingly sent the elephants round to commence the drive about two hundred yards distant, entering from the cultivated side and driving towards me, as I concluded the tiger in such massive jungle would not be far from the dead body. At the same time, I sent two scouting elephants to occupy positions outside the jungle on the high grass side, within sight of myself; I being posted on my elephant at the corner, so that I commanded two views–the end, and the grass side.

My signal, a loud whistle, having been given, the line of elephants advanced towards my position. The crashing of so many huge beasts through the dense crisp herbage sounded in the distance like a strong wind, varied now and then by the tearing crunch as some opposing branches were torn down to clear the way.

I was mounted upon a female elephant, a good creature named Nielmonne, who was reputed to be staunch, but as the line of beaters approached nearer, and the varied sounds increased in intensity, she became very nervous and restless, starting should a small deer dart out of the jungle, and evidently expecting momentarily the appearance of the enemy. There are very few elephants that will remain unmoved when awaiting the advance of a line of beaters, whether they may be of their own species or human beings. On this occasion the rushing sound of the yielding jungle, which was so thick as to test the elephants' powers in clearing a passage through it, was presently varied by a sharp trumpet, then by a low growl, followed by that peculiar noise emitted by elephants when excited, resembling blows upon a tambourine or kettle-drum. This is a sound that invariably is heard whenever an elephant detects the fresh scent of a tiger; and Nielmonne, instead of standing quiet, became doubly excited, as she evidently understood that the dreaded game was on foot, and advancing before the line.

As I was posted at the sharp angle of the corner, I presently observed several elephants emerge upon my left and right, as the line advanced with wonderful regularity, and so close were the animals together that it was most unlikely any tiger could have broken back.

My servant Michael was behind me in the howdah. He was a quiet man, who thoroughly understood his work, and seldom spoke without being first addressed. On this occasion he broke through the rule. "Nothing in this beat, sahib," he exclaimed . . . . "Hold your tongue, Michael, till the cover's beaten out. Haven't I often told you that you can't tell what's in the jungle until the last corner is gone through?"

Nearly all the elephants were now out, and only about half a dozen remained in the jungle, all still advancing in correct line, and perhaps a dozen yards remaining of dense reeds and creepers forming the acute angle at the extremity. They still came on. Two or three of the mahouts shouted, "The tiger's behind, we must go back and take a longer beat." Nothing remained now except six or seven yards of the sharp corner, and the elephants marched forward, when a tremendous roar suddenly startled them in all directions, and one of the largest tigers I have ever seen sprang forward directly towards Nielmonne, who, I am ashamed to say, spun round as though upon a pivot, and prevented me from taking a most splendid shot. The next instant the tiger had bounded back with several fierce roars, sending the line of elephants flying, and once more securing safety in the almost impervious jungle from which he had been driven.

This was a most successful drive, but a terrible failure, owing entirely to the nervousness of my elephant. I never saw a worse jungle, and now that the tiger had been moved, it would be doubly awkward to deal with him, as he would either turn vicious and spring upon an elephant unawares from so dense a covert, or slink from place to place as the line advanced, but would never again face the open.

I looked at my watch; it was exactly half-past eight. The mahouts suggested that we should not disturb him, but give him time to sleep, and then beat for him in the afternoon. I did not believe in sleep after he had been so rudely aroused by a long line of elephants, but I clearly perceived that the mahouts did not enjoy the fun of beating in such dreadful jungle, and this they presently confessed, and expressed a wish to have me in the centre of the line, as there was no gun with the elephants should the tiger attack.

I knew that I should be useless, as it would be impossible to see a foot ahead in such dense bush, but to give them confidence I put my elephant in line, and sent forward several scouting elephants to form a line along a narrow footpath which cut the jungle at right angles about a quarter of a mile distant.

Once more the line advanced, the elephants marching shoulder to shoulder, and thus bearing down everything before them, as I determined to take the jungle backwards and forwards in this close order lest the wary tiger might crouch, and escape by lying close.

Several times the elephants sounded, and we knew that he must be close at hand, but it was absolutely impossible to see anything beyond the thick reedy mass, through which the line of elephants bored as through a solid obstacle.

Three times with the greatest patience we worked the jungle in this searching manner, when on the third advance I left the line, finding the impossibility of seeing anything, and took up my position outside the jungle on the cultivated land, exactly where the footpath was occupied by the scout elephants at intervals, which intersected the line of advance.

Presently there was a commotion among the elephants, two or three shrill trumpets, then the kettle-drum, and for a moment I caught sight of a dim shadowy figure stealing through some high reeds upon the border which fringed the jungle. I immediately fired, although the elephant was so unsteady that I could not be sure of the shot; also the object was so indistinct, being concealed in the high reeds, that I should not have observed it upon any other occasion than our rigid search. Immediately afterwards, a shout from one of the mahouts upon a scouting elephant informed us that the tiger had crossed the path and had gone forward, having thus escaped from the beat!

Here was fresh work cut out! Up to this moment we had managed to keep him within an area of a quarter of a mile in length, by half a mile in width; he had now got into new ground, and was in about a three-quarter mile length of the same unbeaten jungle.

There was nothing else to do but to pursue the same tactics, and we patiently continued to beat forward and backward, again and again, but without once sighting our lost game. It was half-past twelve, and the sun was burning hot, the sky being cloudless. The elephants once more emerged from the sultry jungle; they were blowing spray with their trunks upon their flanks, from water sucked up from their stomachs; and the mahouts were all down-hearted and in despair. "It's of no use," they said, "he's gone straight away, who can tell where? When you fired, perhaps you wounded him, or you missed him; at any rate, he's frightened and gone clean off, we shall never see him again; the elephants are all tired with the extreme heat, and we had better go to the river for a bath."

I held a council of war, with the elephants in a circle around me. It is of no use to oppose men when they are disgusted, you must always start a new idea. I agreed with my men, but I suggested that as we were all hot, and the elephants fatigued, the tiger must be in much the same state, as we had kept him on the run since eight o'clock in the morning, I having actually timed the hour "half-past eight" when he charged out of the last corner. "Now," said I, "do you remember that yesterday evening I killed a buck near some water in a narrow depression in the middle of tamarisk jungle? I believe that is only a continuation of this horrible thicket, and if the tiger is nearly played out, he would naturally make for the water and the cool tamarisk. You form in line in the jungle here, and give me a quarter of an hour's start, while I go ahead and take up my position by that piece of water. You then come on, and if the tiger is in the jungle, he will come forward towards the water, where I shall meet him; if he's not there, we shall anyhow be on our direct route, and close to our camp by the river."

This was immediately accepted, and leaving the elephants to form line, I hurried forward on Nielmonne, keeping in the grass outside the edge of the long jungle.

I had advanced about three-quarters of a mile, when the character of the jungle changed to tamarisk, and I felt certain that I was near the spot of yesterday. I accordingly ordered the mahout to turn into the thick feathery foliage to the left, in search of the remembered water. There was a slight descent to a long but narrow hollow about 50 or 60 yards wide; this was filled with clear water for an unknown length.

I was just about to make a remark, when, instead of speaking, I gently grasped the mahout by the head as I leaned over the howdah, and by this signal stopped the elephant.

There was a lovely sight, which cheered my heart with that inexpressible feeling of delight which is the reward for patience and hard work. About 120 yards distant on my left, the head and neck of a large tiger, clean and beautiful, reposed above the surface, while the body was cooling, concealed from view. Here was our friend enjoying his quiet bath, while we had been pounding away up and down the jungles which he had left.

The mahout, although an excellent man, was much excited. "Fire at him," he whispered.

"It is too far to make certain," I replied in the same undertone.

"Your rifle will not miss him; fire, or you will lose him. He will see us to a certainty and be off. If so, we shall never see him again," continued Fazil, the mahout.

"Hold your tongue," I whispered. "He can't see us, the sun is at our back, and is shining in his eyes – see how green they are."

At this moment of suspense the tiger quietly rose from his bath, and sat up on end like a dog. I never saw such a sight. His head was beautiful, and the eyes shone like two green electric lights, as the sun's rays reflected from them, but his huge body was dripping with muddy water, as he had been reclining upon the alluvial bottom.

"Now's the time," whispered the over-eager mahout. "You can kill him to a certainty. Fire, or he'll be gone in another moment."

"Keep quiet, you fool, and don't move till I tell you." For quite a minute the tiger sat up in the same position; at last, as though satisfied that he was in safety and seclusion, he once more lay down with only the head and neck exposed above the surface.

"Back the elephant gently, but do not turn round," I whispered. Immediately Nielmonne backed through the feathery tamarisk without the slightest sound, and we found ourselves outside the jungle. We could breathe freely.

"Go on now, quite gently, till I press your head; then turn to the right, descending through the tamarisk, till I again touch your puggery" (turban).

I counted the elephant's paces as she moved softly parallel with the jungle, until I felt sure of my distance. A slight pressure upon the mahout's head, and Nielmonne turned to the right. The waving plumes of the dark-green tamarisk divided as we gently moved forward, and in another moment we stopped. There was the tiger in the same position, exactly facing me, but now about 75 paces distant.

"Keep the elephant quite steady," I whispered; and, sitting down upon the howdah seat, I took a rest with the rifle upon the front bar of the gun-rack. A piece of tamarisk kept waving in the wind just in front of the rifle, beyond my reach. The mahout leaned forward and gently bent it down. Now, all was clear. The tiger's eyes were like green glass. The elephant for a moment stood like stone. I touched the trigger.

There was no response to the loud report of 6 drams of powder from the '577 rifle, no splash in the unbroken surface of the water. The tiger's head was still there, but in a different attitude, one-half below the surface, and only one cheek, and one large eye still glittering like an emerald, above.

"Run in quick,"–and the order was instantly obeyed, as Nielmonne splashed through the pool towards the silent body of the tiger. There was not a movement of a muscle. I whistled loud, then looked at my watch–on the stroke of 1 P.M. From 8.30 till that hour we had worked up that tiger, and although there was no stirring incident connected with him, I felt very satisfied with the result.

In a short time the elephants arrived, having heard the shot, followed by my well-known whistle. Moota Gutche was the first to approach; and upon observing the large bright eye of the tiger above water, he concluded that it was still alive; he accordingly made a desperate charge, and taking the body on his tusks, he sent it flying some yards ahead; not content with this display of triumph, he followed it up, and gave it a football-kick that lifted it clean out of the water. This would have quickly ended in a war-dance upon the prostrate body, that would have crushed it and destroyed the skin, had not the mahout, with the iron driving-hook, bestowed some warning taps upon the crown of Moota Gutche's head that recalled him to a calmer frame of mind. A rope was soon made fast to the tiger's neck, and Moota Gutche hauled it upon dry ground, where it was washed as well as possible, and well scrutinized for a bullet-hole.

There was no hole whatever in that tiger. The bullet having entered the nostril, broken the neck, and run along the body, the animal consequently had never moved. The first shot, when obscured in thick jungle, had probably deflected from the interposing reeds–at all events it missed. This tiger, when laid out straight, but without being pulled to increase its length, measured exactly 9 feet 8 inches from nose to tail.

CHAPTER III

THE ELEPHANT (continued)

The foregoing chapter is sufficient to explain the ferocity of the male elephant at certain seasons which periodically affect the nervous system. It would be easy to multiply examples of this cerebral excitement, but such repetitions are unnecessary. The fact remains that the sexes differ materially in character, and that for general purposes the female is preferred in a domesticated state, although the male tusker is far more powerful, and when thoroughly trustworthy is capable of self-defence against attack, and of energy in work that would render it superior to the gentler but inferior female. (The female differs from other quadrupeds in the position of her teats, which are situated upon the breast between the fore legs. She is in the habit of caressing her calf with her trunk during the operation of suckling.)

It may be inferred that a grand specimen of a male elephant is of rare occurrence. A creature that combines perfection of form with a firm but amiable disposition, and is free from the timidity which unfortunately distinguishes the race, may be quite invaluable to any resident in India. The actual monetary value of an elephant must of necessity be impossible to decide, as it must depend upon the requirements of the purchaser and the depth of his pocket. Elephants differ in price as much as horses, and the princes of India exhibit profuse liberality in paying large sums for animals that approach their standard of perfection.

The handsomest elephant that I have ever seen in India belongs to the Rajah of Nandgaon, in the district bordering upon Reipore. I saw this splendid specimen among twenty others at the Durbar of the Chief Commissioner of the Central Provinces in December 1887, and it completely eclipsed all others both in size and perfection of points. The word "points" is inappropriate when applied to the distinguishing features of an elephant, as anything approaching the angular would be considered a blemish. An Indian elephant to be perfect should be 9 feet 6 inches in perpendicular height at the shoulder. The head should be majestic in general character, as large as possible,—especially broad across the forehead, and well rounded. The boss or prominence above the trunk should be solid and decided, mottled with flesh-coloured spots; these ought to continue upon the cheeks, and for about three feet down the trunk. This should be immensely massive; and when the elephant stands at ease, the trunk ought to touch the ground when the tip is slightly curled. The skin of the face should be soft to the touch, and there must be no indentations or bony hollows, which are generally the sign of age. The ears should be large, the edges free from inequalities or rents, and above all they ought to be smooth, as though they had been carefully ironed. When an elephant is old, the top of the ear curls, and this symptom increases with advancing years. The eyes should be large and clear, the favourite colour a bright hazel. The tusks ought to be as thick as possible, free from cracks, gracefully curved, very slightly to the right and left, and projecting not less than three feet from the lips. The body should be well rounded, without a sign of any rib. The shoulders must be massive with projecting muscular development; the back very slightly arched, and not sloping too suddenly towards the tail, which should be set up tolerably high. This ought to be thick and long, the end well furnished with a double fringe of very long thick hairs or whalebone-looking bristles. The legs should be short in proportion to the height of the animal, but immensely thick, and the upper- portion above the knee ought to exhibit enormous muscle. The knees should be well rounded, and the feet be exactly equal to half the perpendicular height of the elephant when measured in their circumference, the weight pressing upon them whilst standing.

The skin generally ought to be soft and pliable, by no means tight or strained, but lying easily upon the limbs and body.

An elephant which possesses this physical development should be equal in the various points of character that are necessary to a highly-trained animal.

When ordered to kneel, it should obey instantly, and remain patiently upon the ground until permitted to rise from this uneasy posture. In reality the elephant does not actually kneel upon its fore knees, but only upon those of the hinder legs, while it pushes its fore legs forward and rests its tusks upon the ground. This is a most unnatural position, and is exceedingly irksome. Some elephants are very impatient, and they will rise suddenly without orders while the ladder is placed against their side for mounting. Upon one occasion a badly-trained animal jumped up so suddenly that Lady Baker, who had already mounted, was thrown off on one side, while I, who was just on the top of the ladder, was thrown down violently upon the other. A badly-tutored elephant is exceedingly dangerous, as such vagaries are upon so large a scale that a fall is serious, especially should the ground be stony.

A calm and placid nature free from all timidity is essential. Elephants are apt to take sudden fright at peculiar sounds and sights. In travelling through a jungle path it is impossible to foretell what animals may be encountered on the route. Some elephants will turn suddenly round and bolt, upon the unexpected crash of a wild animal startled in the forest. The scent or, still worse, the roar of a bear within 50 yards of the road will scare some elephants to an extent that will make them most difficult of control. The danger may be imagined should an elephant absolutely run away with his rider in a dense forest; if the unfortunate person should be in a howdah he would probably be swept off and killed by the intervening branches, or torn to shreds by the tangled thorns, many of which are armed with steel-like hooks.

It is impossible to train all elephants alike, and very few can be rendered thoroughly trustworthy; the character must be born in them if they are to approach perfection.

Our present perfect example should be quite impassive, and should take no apparent notice of anything, but obey his mahout with the regularity of a machine. No noise should disturb the nerves, no sight terrify, no attack for one moment shake the courage; even the crackling of fire should be unheeded, although the sound of high grass blazing and exploding before the advancing line of fire tries the nerves of elephants more than any other danger.

An elephant should march with an easy swinging pace at the rate of 5 miles an hour, or even 6 miles within that time upon a good flat road. As a rule, the females have an easier pace than the large males. When the order to stop is given, instead of hesitating, the elephant should instantly obey, remaining rigidly still without swinging the head or flapping the ears, which is its inveterate and annoying habit. The well-trained animal should then move backward or forward, either one or several paces, at a sign from the mahout, and then at once become as rigid as a rock.

Should the elephant be near a tiger, it will generally know the position of the enemy by its keen sense of smell. If the tiger should suddenly charge from some dense covert with the usual short but loud roars, the elephant ought to remain absolutely still to receive the onset, and to permit a steady aim from the person in the howdah. This is a very rare qualification, but most necessary in a good shikar elephant. Some tuskers will attack the tiger, which is nearly as bad a fault as running in the opposite direction; but the generality, even if tolerably steady, will swing suddenly upon one side, and thus interrupt the steadiness of aim.

The elephant should never exercise its own will, but ought to wait in all cases for the instructions of the mahout, and then obey immediately.

Such an animal, combining the proportions and the qualities I have described, might be worth in India about / 1500 to any Indian Rajah, but there may be some great native sportsmen who would give double that amount for such an example of perfection, which would combine the beauty required for a state elephant, with the high character of a shikar animal.

Native princes and rajahs take a great pride in the trappings of their state elephants, which is exhibited whenever any pageant demands an extraordinary display. I have seen cloths of silk so closely embroidered with heavy gold as to be of enormous value, and so great a weight that two men could barely lift them. Such cloths may have been handed down from several generations, as they are seldom used excepting in the state ceremonies which occur at distant intervals. A high caste male elephant in its gold trappings, with head-piece and forehead lap equally embroidered, and large silver bells suspended from its tusks, is a magnificent object during the display attending a durbar. At such an occasion there may be a hundred elephants all in their finery, each differing from the other both in size and in the colours of their surroundings.

The outfit for an elephant depends upon the work required. The first consideration is the protection of the back. Although the skin appears as though it could resist all friction, it is astonishing how quickly a sore becomes established, and how difficult this is to heal. The mahouts are exceedingly careless, and require much supervision; the only method to ensure attention is to hold them responsible and to deduct so many rupees from their pay should the backs of their animals be unsound.

With proper care an elephant ought never to suffer, as the pad should be made to fit its figure specially. The usual method is to cover the back from the shoulders to the hips with a large quilted pad stuffed with cotton, about 2 1/2 inches thick. In my opinion, wool is preferable to cotton, and, instead of this coverlet being compact, there should be an opening down the centre, to avoid all pressure upon the spine. A quilted pad stuffed with wool, 3 inches thick, with an opening down the middle, would rest comfortably upon the animal's back, and would entirely relieve the highly-arched backbone, which would thus be exposed to a free current of air, and would remain hard instead of becoming sodden through perspiration. Upon this soft layer the large pad is fixed. This is made of the strongest sacking, stuffed as tight as possible with dried reeds of a tough variety that is common in most tanks; this is open in the centre and quite a foot thick at the sides, so that it fills up the hollow, and rests the weight upon the ribs at a safe distance from the spine.

There are various contrivances in the shape of saddles. The ordinary form for travelling is the char-jarma; this is an oblong frame, exceedingly strong, which is lashed upon the pad secured by girths. It is stuffed with cotton, and neatly covered with native cloth. A stuffed back passes down the centre like a sofa, and two people on either side sit dos-a-dos, as though in an Irish car. Iron rails protect the ends, and swing foot-boards support the feet. This is, in my opinion, the most comfortable way of riding, but some care is necessary in proportioning the weights to ensure a tolerable equilibrium, otherwise, should the route be up and down steep nullahs, the char-jarma will shift upon one side, and become most disagreeable to those who find themselves on the lower level. Natives prefer a well-stuffed pad, as they are accustomed to sit with their legs doubled up in a manner that would be highly uncomfortable to Europeans. Such pads are frequently covered with scarlet cloth and gold embroidery, while the elephant is dressed in a silk and gold cloth reaching to its knees. The face and head are painted in various colours and devices, exhibiting great taste and skill on the part of the designer. It is curious to observe the dexterity with which an otherwise ignorant mahout will decorate the head of his animal by drawing most elaborate curves and patterns, that would tax the ability of a professional artist among Europeans.

The howdah is the only accepted arrangement for sporting purposes, and much attention is necessary in its construction, as the greatest strength should be combined with lightness. There ought to be no doors, as they weaken the solidity of the whole. The weight of a good roomy howdah should not exceed two hundredweight, or at the outside 230 pounds. It must be remembered that the howdah is not adapted for travelling, as there is a disagreeable swinging motion inseparable from its position upon the elephant's back which is not felt upon either the pad or the char-jarma. The howdah is simply for shooting, as you can fire in any direction, which is impossible from any other contrivance where the rider sits in a constrained position.