CHAP. IX. GAME LAWS IN INDIA.

“Pooh, pooh! Come and hunt. Come and hunt. There is no use in looking after a parcel of buildings, and running to see sights: now you are in this part of the country you ought to enjoy the pleasures it affords. Come and hunt, man. Come and hunt.”

This was said by a fine, stout, middle-aged man, dressed in a light jean jacket and full lower garments of a similar fabric, with a very broad brimmed hat of fine straw, which he was then putting on. Although his complexion was sallow, his features were lively and intelligent; and there was a bluff, free, careless manner with him that seemed particularly agreeable to his companions. They were in a handsome chamber with an open veranda, through which the slight breeze that was stirring, entered; and the furniture, though rather faded, still possessed an air of elegance. Wines, fruits, and sweetmeats were on a large table in the centre, near which Oriel Porphyry and the speaker stood. Zabra was leaning over the back of a cane-bottomed seat, watching the motions of a lizard crawling up part of the framework of the veranda. Fortyfolios was busily engaged endeavouring to beat off several mosquitoes that seemed to have taken a fancy to his bald head; and Dr. Tourniquet was examining the tusk of an elephant that lay, with several skins, in a corner of the room.

“Ah, but, Sir Curry Rajah,” replied the young merchant, “when you kindly invited us to your country house, I told you our stay could be but brief. The period I intended to pass with you has elapsed; and though delighted with your hospitality, I must really be thinking of my departure.”

“Nonsense, nonsense!” exclaimed his host. “You wo’n’t be thinking of any thing of the kind. There is no business waiting for you. My people in the city will take care that every thing you required shall be shipped safely without loss of time; and, therefore, there can be no occasion for your troubling your young brains about profit and loss for a day or two at least. Come and hunt, I tell you. Come and hunt.”

“Is there any good hunting in this part of the world, then?” inquired Oriel.

“Hunting! The best hunting in the universe,” replied Sir Curry Rajah. “I’ve got the finest preserves in all India.”

“And what game have you?” asked his visitor.

“Game?—Game of all kinds, and plenty of it; especially tigers,” responded the other.

“Tigers!” exclaimed the young merchant in so loud a voice that his companions started with surprise. “Why, what could induce you to preserve such animals?”

“The sport, to be sure, man,” replied Sir Curry; “and we are obliged to be very strict in the application of our game laws; for the rascally poachers will often destroy the game.”

“I should think the game more likely to destroy the poachers,” observed his guest with a smile.

“That’s their look out,” said the other. “I only know it’s a most difficult thing to preserve tigers. My tenants shoot them if they happen to attack their flocks; and the peasants combine to kill them, for the purpose of procuring their skins. But our game laws punish the scoundrels severely if they are caught in the fact—imprisonment and hard labour for every offence, and very just these laws are. Why, gentlemen would have no sport if they were to allow their game to be cut up by every fellow who has a desire for sport, or thinks his life or the lives of his cattle of more value than a tiger. I have been at great expense with my preserves; for the animal has long been exceedingly scarce: and I have improved the breed a great deal by importing some new varieties. The cross which has ensued has altered the game wonderfully. They are infinitely more savage, far more daring, and in speed and cunning are not to be excelled. In fact, my tigers have a reputation all over the country; and the ablest hunters are very glad to get a day’s sport with me, as they know they will meet with the best tigers that are to be found any where.”

“And how do you hunt them?” inquired Oriel.

“On elephants principally,” replied Sir Curry. “The hunter sits upon an elephant, with an air gun, fixed upon a swivel, before him. These animals are well trained. I’ve got some of the finest elephants in the world, thorough-bred—and they go into the preserve, and rouse the tiger from his cover. If he goes off, the elephant follows; if he shows fight, the hunter fires: and sometimes the game is not killed till fine sport has been enjoyed—a man or two killed, and other exciting pleasures enjoyed.”

“And did these skins belong to animals of your killing?” inquired Tourniquet, who had been an attentive listener to the conversation, as he turned over two or three large tiger skins.

“Yes, I killed them, and fine sport they gave,” said his host. “That one you have in your hand belonged to a noble fellow. The day in which he was killed was a memorable one. My late neighbour, Lord Muligatawny, was very proud of his preserves, and used to boast he had the best tigers in India. So to take the conceit out of his lordship, I invited him to a hunt on my grounds. Well, he came on his elephant, for he enjoyed the sport as much as any man, and we proceeded together with our attendants to a jungle in which I knew the greatest quantity of game was to be found. He and I kept close together, he boasting all the time of the superiority of his preserves, till as we entered this particular place, I thought it would be most advisable to be at a short distance from him, so we separated, but without my losing sight of him. Now Lord Muligatawny used a peculiar kind of snuff-box, and was a fierce looking sort of man; and he used to say that no tiger could ever look him in the face. He said the brute always bolted when he tried the experiment. Well, we saw lots of game, and had some capital sport, but as we were proceeding along in high spirits at our success, I started a magnificent animal. I had a shot at him, but was not near enough to do him any mischief. As the tiger was stealing off towards Lord Muligatawny, he fired; but whether it was his mismanagement of the gun, or proceeded from his elephant’s suddenly backing at the approach of the tiger, I cannot say; but certain it is Lord Muligatawny was tumbled off his elephant, and in another moment the tiger was upon him. ‘Now we shall see if the tiger will bolt,’ thought I; and he did bolt: but he bolted with Lord Muligatawny! He grasped his lordship by the nape of his neck at the time he was looking as fierce as a ferret, and flinging his body over his shoulder, he was out of sight before any one could get a shot at him.”

“And what became of him?” inquired Oriel.

“That was the last we ever saw of Lord Muligatawny,” replied Sir Curry. “But about a week afterwards I was hunting in the neighbourhood, when, after a capital run, and a desperate contest, I succeeded in killing one of the finest tigers I ever saw. I had his body taken home to show him to my friends, and upon opening him, among the best part of a sheep, a dog’s hind quarters, and a litter of sucking pigs, we found the identical snuff-box of poor Lord Muligatawny, proving beyond the possibility of a doubt that not only had the tiger bolted with his lordship, but that he had had the audacity to make a bolt of him. But come and hunt—come and hunt—I will show you some capital sport.”

“Such as you showed Lord Muligatawny, I suppose,” said the young merchant, laughing.

“Oh no, there’s no danger,” replied his host; and then taking an air-gun of a peculiar construction towards his visitor, added, “Now, look at this weapon—one of the best of the kind ever made. This is fixed on a swivel in the carriage in which you sit on the elephant; and you are quite safe, and, if you are a tolerable marksman, are sure to wound your game. Besides this, the hunter generally has a strong short sword, like this,” said he, producing a weapon of that description. “Very sharp and very useful too, for if the tiger leaps on the elephant, which he will frequently do, the hunter with a good blow at his head may settle his business. Come and hunt, man, come and hunt.”

“Confound these mosquitoes!” exclaimed the professor in a rage, vainly endeavouring to drive the insects from about him, and making the most ludicrous grimaces, as in spite of his exertions they succeeded in biting the exposed part of his head. “These horrible things will torment me to death. Ever since I have been in this deplorable country, my head has been besieged by thousands of them. They don’t let me rest a minute. Ah! What a gripe! I shall go mad! They’ll torment me to death; I can’t endure it, Sir Curry.”

“You’ll soon get used to it,” said his host, quietly. “This is the way they always use strangers. You are fresh meat to them. But come and hunt—come and hunt; I’ll have the elephants got ready for you immediately, and it’s a capital day for the sport.”

“What say you, gentlemen? Shall we hunt the tiger?” asked Oriel Porphyry.

“I would rather you would hunt the musquitoes,” said Fortyfolios, seriously.

“What say you, Zabra?”

“If you wish it, Oriel,” replied the youth.

“I have not the slightest objection, don’t you see,” observed the doctor.

“Then let it be, Sir Curry,” said Oriel.

Orders were instantly given to the servants, a crowd of dark Hindoos, in white turbans, short frocks fastened round the middle with a sash, and with bare arms and legs, who lost no time in making the necessary preparations.

Three elephants were caparisoned and led round to the front of the house. Sir Curry mounted the largest, and Fortyfolios and Tourniquet, after some trouble, managed to get firm sitting on another. While these preparations were making, Zabra had been amusing himself by feeding the remaining elephant with sweetmeats. She was a small but exceedingly docile animal; and seemed to enjoy the sort of food with which she was indulged with a particular gusto, swinging her body with a regular oscillatory movement, and twisting her trunk up and down with ceaseless activity. The order having been given her to kneel, the two friends mounted; and, accompanied by a few attendants, skilful in the management of the hunt, the party moved forward into an open park, in which several blue-skinned buffaloes and humped bullocks, with here and there a few deer, were seen endeavouring to find a cool place in the shadows of the trees. The day was excessively hot; and the oppressive sultriness of the atmosphere seemed to be felt by every living thing, except the mosquitoes, who flew about in myriads, plaguing both man and beast. In passing a large tank the cattle were frequently seen rushing into it, where they would remain with nothing but their noses above the water, in hopes of escaping from those tormenting insects; but Fortyfolios appeared to be the especial object of their attacks, for his hands were constantly employed in trying to drive them from his face. They passed many clumps of lofty cocoa-nut trees, in which troops of monkeys were skipping about from branch to branch, and chattering at the hunters with more volubility than harmony; and, after proceeding along fields of rice, indigo, and Indian corn, surrounded by hedges of aloes and bamboo, they approached a marsh, watered by a branch of the Ganges, in which several large crocodiles, troops of adjutants, and different species of snakes were observed.

“There’s plenty of game here, you see!” remarked Sir Curry to his companions. “But it’s wonderful the difficulty I have to preserve it; poaching prevails to a great extent in spite of the severity of our game laws.”

No reply was made to the observation; and the party passed on, making their way with great difficulty through a forest of banyans, occasionally taking a shot at a stray jackal or a wandering vulture, till they descended a steep declivity, overgrown with thick underwood, over which trees of immense proportions spread their gigantic branches.

“Now we shall soon beat up the game,” said Sir Curry: “we are entering a famous preserve of tigers. About half a mile further in the jungle we shall come to the very place where I lost poor Lord Muligatawny. Very interesting spot.”

Fortyfolios at least did not seem to care for the interest of the place, and he regretted ever having left the safe quarters of Sir Curry Rajah’s country-house, to wander on the back of an elephant through marshes, and forests, and jungles, infested with every species of venomous and savage creatures.

“I cannot see what pleasure there can be in exposing one’s life in this way. It’s the most foolish thing I ever heard of,” said he to his companion.

“The ancients were much greater fools, don’t you see,” replied Tourniquet. “They would break their necks after a wretched fox.”

“But the fox couldn’t eat the hunter, and the tiger can,” added the other seriously.

“Then there is the greater necessity for killing the tiger, don’t you see,” rejoined the doctor.

“But why not exterminate the breed? They must be very destructive to the flocks and herds as well as to human beings who happen to fall in their way; yet this man actually preserves them for the sake of the sport they afford,” said the professor, with unfeigned astonishment.

“Just so did the ancients with their foxes,” replied his companion. “They were very destructive to the poultry of the neighbouring farmers; they were perfectly worthless; their skins were of no value, and their flesh not eatable; yet they were carefully preserved for the sport they afforded.”

“A tiger!” exclaimed Sir Curry, who was a little in advance of the party, as he pointed to some animal, the form of which could not be clearly distinguished, stealing through the high grass and reeds with which they were surrounded. Several shots were fired at him; but he bounded away as if unhurt, and the elephants proceeded in pursuit.

“A tiger!” again shouted their host, and another was observed making off in a contrary direction; but he escaped before a gun could be discharged.

Oriel Porphyry began to feel a little excited, and took more interest in the hunt than he had previously experienced.

“Oh!” exclaimed Fortyfolios, as loud as he could scream; and, upon looking round to observe what was the matter, the hunters beheld a large monkey, as the professor was passing underneath the branch of a tree, swinging by his tail, dart down, and snatch the straw hat that Fortyfolios wore to shield his head from the sun’s rays, with which he made an immediate retreat, grinning and chattering among his companions as if congratulating himself on the cleverness by which he had acquired the prize. The whole troop were immediately in commotion, scrambling with one another for possession of the spoil; till the thief, finding he was likely to lose the result of his dexterity, placed the hat on his own head, and darted off, from branch to branch, with inconceivable rapidity, pursued by the other monkeys with a chorus of yells absolutely deafening.

Fortyfolios looked the very picture of mute despair when he found his bald head exposed to the attacks of the relentless mosquitoes, and was obliged to bind it with a handkerchief. His disquietude did not decrease, when, a few paces farther on, his eyes fell upon the form of a monstrous snake, twined round the stem of an immense tree, which, with arched head, glaring eyes, and protruded sting, seemed about to spring upon the unhappy professor.

“Plenty of game here, gentlemen; capital preserve,” observed Sir Curry very coolly.

“Heaven preserve me!” emphatically exclaimed Fortyfolios, trembling in every joint.

Tourniquet fired at the monster, and he immediately glided away into the deepest recesses of the jungle.

“A tiger!” shouted Sir Curry, as one made its appearance within a few yards of his elephant. Oriel fired, and hit him. Sir Curry fired at the same time, and lodged a bullet in his shoulder. The animal, smarting with the pain and howling with rage, made a spring at Sir Curry, which brought him within reach of his “tiger-slayer,” as he called it; and a ferocious blow, well directed, sent him with another howl to the feet of the elephant, who kept him between her hind legs and her fore legs till she had kicked him to death.

“Fine beast!” said Sir Curry Rajah, noticing its size; “but this place is famous for such game. By the bye, this is the identical spot in which I lost poor Lord Muligatawny. He was sitting on his elephant just where sits our friend the professor——”

“Oh!” groaned Fortyfolios.

“When he fell into the jaws of the tiger.”

The professor shuddered and looked very pale.

“A tiger!” shouted Sir Curry.

“Murder!” screamed Fortyfolios; and if Tourniquet had not laid hold of him he would have tumbled off his seat.

“I’m surprised a man of your sense should show so much fear, don’t you see,” observed the doctor.

“It is not fear, Doctor Tourniquet,” replied the professor, endeavouring to conceal his alarm with all the philosophy he possessed. “I do not care about death, but I have a reasonable objection to being devoured. As for the quality, impression, or emotion, which is usually called fear, in a philosophical sense, I deny that in me it has ever had existence.”

“A tiger!” again shouted Sir Curry.

“Murder!” again screamed the professor; and he trembled so violently that he caught hold of the framework of the seat to secure his position on the elephant. The game now became very plentiful; and the hunt was followed from one jungle through open vistas into another. Oriel entered into the pursuit with ardour, but Zabra did not appear to join in it with the least interest. He seemed to entertain the same objection to being devoured as Fortyfolios, or else his anxiety for the safety of his companion destroyed all pleasure in the chase. He became restless and uneasy; but Oriel was so actively engaged in looking for and despatching the game, that he did not notice the disquietude of his friend. They had killed several tigers; and, having pursued a very large one out of the jungle into an open valley, he there made a stand before a large banyan tree. The hunters surrounded him, and he was crouching, lashing himself with his tail, and preparing for a spring, as they approached. As soon as they came within shooting distance, Oriel, Sir Curry, and Dr. Tourniquet, fired; instantly, with a low half-stifled growl, the tiger gave two or three prodigious bounds, and leaped upon the elephant upon which Zabra was sitting; and immediately afterwards both were rolling together among the long grass. The elephant, as soon as she observed Zabra’s danger, as if in gratitude for the attentions she had received from him before starting for the hunt, turned round and ran at the tiger as if with the intention of trampling him down. The young merchant, in the anguish of the moment, at seeing his friend in the power of the ferocious beast, had at first lost his presence of mind, but observing that the elephant had succeeded in drawing the attention of the tiger from his victim, he slipped off her back, and, with no other weapon than his hunting sword, advanced to the place where the animal stood. The elephant had made two or three rushes at the tiger, but had not succeeded in getting him under her feet, and he was still crouching beside the prostrate body of Zabra, when he observed the approach of Oriel.

“Let me have a shot at him, Master Porphyry,” exclaimed his host.

“You will be killed, don’t you see, if you attack him with such a useless weapon?” shouted Tourniquet. Oriel still advanced with his sword firmly grasped, his arm raised, and his gaze fixed upon that of the tiger. The savage beast curved his back and lashed his tail; his fur became erect, and his eyes seemed flashing with an expression of the most terrible ferocity. Oriel Porphyry still moved forward; and as the tiger, with a low sharp growl, made a bound towards him, he leaped on one side, and turning quickly round dealt a blow with all his force, that severed the tendons of the animal’s leg, as he reached the ground. The brute howled with pain, and rushed with open mouth upon his antagonist. The wound he had received prevented him from making a spring, but he dashed furiously forward upon three legs, with looks intent upon mischief.

At this instant, the elephant made a rush at the tiger, and tumbled him over to a considerable distance. Oriel again advanced towards him; and lashing himself into a fiercer rage, the wounded beast prepared to dig his claws and teeth into the body of his pursuer; but the young merchant avoided all the desperate attempts the savage creature made to fasten upon him, and inflicted upon his head and legs several severe wounds; then, watching his opportunity, he brought down the sword with all his strength upon his skull, and the tiger fell dead at his feet.

When he turned round to hasten to Zabra’s assistance, he found the elephant trying to raise him from the ground with her trunk: and she seemed as much concerned at the accident as any person there, and moved him as gently, and looked in his face as anxiously, as the tenderest nurse could have done.

“Bravely fought, Master Porphyry!” exclaimed Sir Curry. “I never saw finer sport; and you have shown yourself one of the best hunters I ever met with. You shall have the skin, for you’ve well deserved it.”

“Are you much hurt, my dear Zabra?” he anxiously inquired, without attending to his host’s commendations, as he bent over the prostrate body of his friend. A low groan was all the reply he received. “Dr. Tourniquet!” shouted Oriel: but the doctor was standing at his side, having hastened to the spot when he saw that his services were likely to be required.

“See what can be done immediately,” added the young merchant earnestly. “I’m almost afraid the brute has killed him.”

“It’s not so bad as that, don’t you see, for he breathes,” observed the surgeon.

“But his dress is all over blood; therefore he must have received some dangerous wounds,” added Oriel. “Here; I’ll undo his vest; and then we can see the extent of the injury he has received.”

“Oh, no!” said the doctor, unceremoniously pushing him away.

“Doctor Tourniquet, you behave very strangely, I think,” said the other, seemingly much offended.

“I beg pardon, Master Porphyry,” responded the doctor, apparently with much confusion; “but it would be very dangerous to meddle with the wounds now, don’t you see.”

“They surely ought to be dressed without loss of time,” remarked the young merchant.

“The patient has received a severe shock; and the state of the atmosphere, and—and not having with me things necessary to dress the wound, and—and many other things, make it advisable that the patient should be put to bed before his hurts are examined,” said the doctor, attempting to hide his perplexity as well as he could.

“I must say, I think it very strange,” observed Oriel, not being able to account for the embarrassment under which the doctor was evidently labouring.

“No harm done, I hope?” inquired Sir Curry, as he approached upon his elephant. “I should be sorry to have another Lord Muligatawny affair.”

“There’s no knowing what harm has been done; for I really cannot get my surgeon to ascertain,” replied the young merchant.

“No! ah! that’s strange,” responded his host: “I always like to know the worst. It’s a great consolation.”

“Let us get out of this horrid place, or we shall all be eaten up by wild beasts,” exclaimed Fortyfolios, who was sitting, disconsolate and uneasy on the top of his elephant.

“Such a thing might be. I’ve known several persons whose ardour in pursuit of game has made them food for tigers,” remarked Sir Curry. “Poor Lord Muligatawny was only one instance out of many.”

“Oh!” groaned the professor.

“See, he revives!” exclaimed the doctor, directing attention to his patient, whose eyes were gently unclosing.

“Zabra! my dear Zabra! are you better?” asked Oriel, as he supported his young friend’s head on his shoulder.

Zabra looked about him with a wild stare, till his eyes fell upon the elephant, who had all the time been an attentive spectator of the scene, and then, as if remembering what he had suffered, he gave a slight convulsive shudder, and sunk back into the arms of his patron.

“The tiger is dead, Zabra!” exclaimed Oriel.

“I wish all tigers were dead,” muttered Fortyfolios.

“I think we had better place the patient on yonder elephant, and I will accompany him till we return from whence we set out, when he can have his wounds dressed, don’t you see,” said Dr. Tourniquet, who had recovered from his confusion.

“Yes, send him forward with some of my people,” added Sir Curry Rajah; “and you come with me, Master Porphyry, and I’ll show you a preserve where the tigers are as thick as monkeys on a cocoanut tree.”

“I’ve had quite enough of tiger hunting, I thank you,” replied Oriel Porphyry, very seriously; then directing his attention to his young friend, he exclaimed—“Zabra! are you better now?”

The youth opened his long eye-lashes, and gazed upon his patron, as if recognising his voice, and then in a low whisper said, “Yes, I am better, Oriel.”

“Will you let Dr. Tourniquet examine your wounds, Zabra? We want to know how much you are hurt.”

“Oh no! oh no!” he replied hastily, “Not now, not now, Oriel. Not now.”

“This is very strange,” observed the young merchant, unable to find a reason for an objection to a thing that seemed so requisite. “Very strange—but you can let us know what injury you have received.”

“My back and arms are lacerated,” responded Zabra. “But they do not pain me so much as they did. Dr. Tourniquet shall see to them when I return, and perhaps you can allow him to remain with me in case I should want his assistance before. You can then return with the professor.”

Oriel Porphyry appeared surprised, but he gave orders to the attendants, who had been unconcerned spectators of the scene; and, having lifted Zabra upon the elephant, who seemed delighted to regain his burthen, the whole party returned to the country house of Sir Curry Rajah.