Not fifty yards from my abode were the barracks of the 1st Madras Fusiliers. One night, as the sentry was pacing up and down, an animal suddenly sprang over the low parapet close to him; it was a tiger, and on his coming to the charge, it disappeared as suddenly as it had come. They had been reported prowling around the cattle, for the rains were nearly over, and dry land was beginning to appear.
The circumstance caused a sensation at the time, and became a nine days’ wonder in the garrison, after which it was forgotten.
Some little time afterwards I awoke in the night—a very unusual proceeding on my part—and beheld two great, fiery eyes glaring at me out of the darkness, and apparently belonging to something within a few feet of my mosquito curtains. In an instant the idea flashed on me that this was _the_ tiger, and terror so prostrated me, that I could only lie still, scarcely daring to breathe, turning hot and cold, and looking in a fascinated helplessness straight into those cruel orbs, while I marvelled even in my agony at their changing colours.
It occurred to me that the mosquito curtains were bothering him; otherwise, why should he keep staring at me thus?
A thousand things flashed through my brain, and the events of my young life marshalled themselves before me in rapid succession. Perhaps my thoughts, varied as they were, did not take many seconds of time, but to me it appeared an eternity: and yet the tiger never moved!
At last the suspense became intolerable; and, having at length resolved to end it one way or the other, I stealthily grasped my sword, and with sudden energy drove it into the curtain and into a soft body, which disappeared with a fearful yell—a pariah-dog! He and his companions had to their advantage discovered the whereabouts of my food, and it was the sound of the lid falling back on the now empty chest that had awakened me; and to this day I never could conjecture why one of the troop preferred watching me in that way and giving me such a fright.
Henceforth I bore the race no very friendly feeling, and lost no opportunity of retaliating.
To keep them clear of my sacred precincts, I employed a native bow of peculiar construction, termed a “Golail” and bullets of well-baked clay; and I soon became a sufficiently accurate shot to convince them of the desirability of giving my quarters a wide berth.