and fiercely twirling his long moustache, which curled upwards to his eyes, shouted, in a loud clear tone, to the dog-keepers," Chor do!"* At the signal twenty impatient hounds bounded from the leash, and dashed into cover. "Have at him, my little tigers! Whose dogs are we that he should laugh at our beards? By the hump of the holy camel, he shall this day be made to eat dirt. Show your ugly snout,-meet me if you dare,-you old grey-headed hantchoot. I defile your mother's grave, and spit on your father's beard;" so saying, Ishmail drew his heavy tulwar, or native sword,—and wrapping his cumberbund‡ tightly round his left arm to act as a shield in case of necessity, stalked, with an air of determined resolution, into the gloomy jungle.

"There goes old Ishmail, with his whiskers bristling like an enraged tiger-cat," exclaimed Mansfield, laughing, as he watched these proceedings from his place of concealment amongst the rocks. "His blood is fairly up now, and he is determined to make the bear show his grey muzzle, even if he drives him out at the point of the sword. Hark! they have found already."

Deep and angry now arose the baying of the eager hounds from out the gloomy depths of the ravine, and wildly did the prolonged echoes reverberate the sound. But it was no longer the musical chime with which they swept along on the hot scent of the flying deer.

The sound was now stationary, and the short angry barking of the dogs was mingled with an occasional yell of pain, announcing that some unfortunate hound had suffered for his temerity, in attempting to close with his formidable antagonist.

"What an obstinate old brute!" exclaimed Mansfield, as he stretched forward over a projecting rock, in hopes of getting a glimpse of what was going on in the thick jungle below. "I never, in my life, met with a bear that stood so much bullying; they generally start at once, and make a running fight of it."

A tremendous roar followed by a despairing death-shriek now arose with fearful distinctness above the confused baying and howling of the dogs. For a moment there was a death-like silence, as if every living thing had been paralyzed by that voice of thunder. Then a strong rustling amongst the tangled bamboos,-a deep, surly growl, mingled with a stifled throttling cry,-a faint groan, and again the baying of the hounds was resumed, but less eagerly than before, and in a whining, undecided tone, betwixt anger and fear.

The shouting of the terrified beaters was now heard in all directions, and next moment many of them were seen rushing from the jungle, and scrambling up the face of the rocks; whilst, with frantic gestures, they waved to their companions below to fall back.

"By heavens, I thought so," shouted Mansfield, starting to his feet, and instinctively grasping his rifle, as the well-known roar of a tiger reached his ear.

"Thought what?" asked Charles, astonished at the unusual excitement of his stoical companion.

"Why, that we have caught a Tartar, that's all ;-slipped the poor dogs at a tiger, instead of a lubberly old bear. Thank God, the beaters are all out of danger now, except the poor fellow whose death-shriek we

* Let loose.

Translation not fit for "ears polite." A shawl or sash worn round the waist.

heard, and he is, no doubt, beyond the leech's aid. But we must bestir ourselves, else the brute will not leave a hound alive."

In the enthusiasm of the moment Mansfield had slung his rifle across his shoulder, and, in spite of the remonstrances of Charles, was about to attempt the desperate experiment of scrambling down the face of the rock, and shooting the tiger in his lair; when his motions were arrested by the voice of Ishmail.

"Stop, Sahib! In the name of the holy Prophet, stop! What madness has seized you?" shouted the poor fellow in Hindostanee, as panting and smeared with blood he scrambled painfully to the top of the rock.

"Ishmail, my boy, you are wounded!" exclaimed Mansfield, running towards him. "It was not you whom the tiger struck down just now?" "No, Sahib. Men do not climb rocks after being knocked down by a tiger. It was poor Asmodine, my helper, whose cry you heard. I was standing close by him; he received the weight of the blow, and is now amongst the houries, praise be to Allah; whilst I have escaped with a slight scratch on the shoulder." Here Ishmail pulled aside his tattered garments and exhibited a wound, which looked as if inflicted by a gardener's rake, and from which the blood flowed in long purple streaks over his oily skin.

"Faith, Master Ishmail, that same slight scratch will require some square yards of Dr. Macphee's plaster before you are in marching order again. But, Ishmail, what is to be done? Is there no chance of driving the brute from his stronghold ?"

"Sahib, the tiger is no fool, he will not come out to eat your highness's bullets."

"But he is tearing the dogs to pieces, man; and, unless we assist them, he will not leave one alive. I think I could manage to get down to that ledge of rock above him, and shoot him as he lies."

66 No, Sahib; had that been possible he were dead ere now. But I have examined the place well: he lies in a sort of cave directly under that ledge of rock, so that it is impossible to get a view of him, except from the level ground directly in his front. May dogs defile his father's beard! he has chosen his ground well. Nothing but rockets can force him to leave it; and, please Allah, it shall not be for want of rockets, if he lives to see the sun set to-morrow. But at present we must leave him, Sahib. It would be the act of a madman to attack him in his den." "But the dogs, Ishmail ?"

"He will kill no more dogs, Sahib. Our three best hounds, the only ones who had courage to close with him, have already been destroyed, and the others are only baying him at a prudent distance. They will be glad enough to leave him when they hear the recall sounded."

"Alas! poor Asmodine, yours has been a cruel death. But it shall not go unrevenged." So said old Lorimer, as he turned from regarding the mangled corse of his faithful follower, and wiped a tear from his bronzed cheek.

His companions had dragged the body from the jungle at the risk of their lives. And the Doctor, after examining the wounds, had just reported him dead. The remains of the poor fellow presented a ghastly spectacle, and a fearful example of the destructive powers of a tiger. The fore part of the skull was crushed in like an egg-shell, and evi

dently by the mere weight of the paw, for there was no mark on the head either of teeth or claws. The glazed, bloodshot eyes were forced from their sockets: and a thin stream of black blood flowed from each nostril, and trickled slowly down the sunken, lead-coloured cheeks. Besides this, it appeared that the tiger had seized him with his teeth; the whole of the throat and the skin of the breast being torn away, leaving the root of the tongue exposed, and the bare muscles of the chest still quivering with convulsive twitches, although it was evident, from the nature of his wounds, that the poor fellow's death must have been almost instantaneous.

"Rodney, Racer, and Speaker killed, Sahib, and others badly wounded," said Ishmail, as, with the important air of an officer on duty, he advanced to make his report, after having mustered the hounds.

"The devil fly away with these cursed tigers," replied Lorimer. "This makes seventeen hounds that I have lost by them since last May. Couple up the dogs, Ishmail; I have not the heart to put them into cover again to-day. See that those which are wounded be carefully carried home in cumbleys, and have this poor fellow's body removed into camp. And now, gentlemen, we had better mount and jog homewards. We can do no more to-day but to-morrow"

Here he raised his voice, shook his clenched fist, and stamping on the ground

"By the bones of my ancestors, if we live to see to-morrow, the infernal tiger shall pay dearly for this day's work.-Ishmail, you will see that there are plenty of fire-works provided."

"Hookum, Sahibt," replied Ishmail, sternly, casting a sidelong glance at his mangled shoulder, and grinding his teeth.

"But the bear," asked Mansfield; "must we let him slip through our fingers, Sir ?"

"I am sorry to say, Mansfield, he has done so already. The scouts report that the brute stole away whilst we were tackling the tiger, and he is, no doubt, far beyond our reach.-Burmah, my horse."

Burmah, a little dark, square-built, bushy-whiskered Mahratta, approached, leading the powerful grey Arab horse which his master had ridden in the morning, now fresh and well groomed. And, as he patted the glossy arched neck of the noble animal, he addressed him in the most extravagant terms of endearment, such as a nurse lavishes on her child; whilst the sagacious creature, as if grateful for his caresses, pricked his small ears, and rubbed his velvet muzzle against the naked shoulder of his groom.

Most of the party had mounted, and the beaters were beginning to move off, bearing the mangled body of their companion slung on a bamboo, together with the wounded dogs, and as much of the game as they could conveniently carry; when Mansfield, who had for some minutes been gazing intently at a distant hill, shouted to his peon, in a voice which made him start

"Abdallah, my spy-glass-quick, man—quick!”

"What see you ?" asked Lorimer.

"Can't say exactly, Sir; but it looks devilish like our friend the bear."

* A coarse sort of blanket worn by the lower classes in India.

It is an order, Sir.

May ―VOL. L. NO. CXCVII.

E

'Impossible, man! He could never be such a fool as to take across that open line of country."

"By Heavens! it is though," cried Mansfield, with exultation, handing the glass to Lorimer; "and on ground where we can ride him, too. He is making for the large wood above Nidiwuttum. But he has two long miles of open country before him, and the devil is in it, if little Bundoolah does not lay me alongside of him before he reaches it. Here's at him, at all events-who'll follow?"

So saying, he sprang to the saddle, snatched a spear from one of the beaters, drove in his spurs over the rowel, and sitting well back, with a strong pull at Bundoolah's head, dashed down the rocky hill-side at the top of his speed.

Old Lorimer rode too heavy to attempt a racing pace over such breakneck ground. And the rest of the party, with the exception of Charles, being mounted on little short-legged hill-ponies, had no chance.

Charles, however, was well mounted, and his young blood boiled to rival the daring feats of Mansfield, the pride of the Mysore country. Glancing around him in search of some weapon, his eye rested on the ornamented hilt of Ishmail's sword.

"This will do famously," cried he, as Ishmail handed him his tulwar with an ironical smile, which seemed to say, "It will do all your work as well as anything else-a broomstick might serve your turn, for that matter."

But this was lost upon Charles, who eagerly clutched the sword, and waving it triumphantly around his head, rattled down the hill in hot pursuit of his companion.

"You'll find that a queer tool to tackle a bear with, my hearty,' shouted old Lorimer, laughing, as he and the rest of the party followed at a steady canter. Charles only answered by another wave of his sword and an extra dig of the spurs.

But we must follow Mansfield. The tremendous pace at which he rattled over the ground soon brought him up with the chase. He was now within fifty yards of the bear, who, finding that matters began to look serious, was shambling along at his best pace, his foaming jaws distended, and his tongue lolling far out of his mouth. Three strides more would have brought him within spear's length. But Bundoolah began to show symptoms of distress. And there being no rival at hand to dispute with him the honour of the first spear, Mansfield pulled up for a moment, to let his panting horse gather fresh wind before going into action with an enemy who, in all probability, would try the mettle both of horse and rider.

The spear which Mansfield had snatched up in his hurry was not exactly such a one as a sportsman would have selected from choice. It was a heavy unmanageable weapon, headed with about half a ton of iron, well covered with rust, and not much sharper than the fluke of an anchor. A small touch of the file would do no harm here, thought Mansfield, as he felt the point with his finger, and thought of the razorlike edge of his favourite hog-spear; but never mind, I must only give it the more powder. "Now then, Bundoolah, we'll try it."

So saying, he gathered up the reins, fixed himself well in the saddle, and closing his heels, the trusty Bundoolah bounded forward like an antelope. A true son of the desert, he feared neither beast nor devil,

and dashed up to the bear without hesitation, in spite of the growl of defiance with which he was saluted. Taking a steady pull at his horse's head, and closing his left heel, ready to wheel off as the blow was struck, Mansfield poised his harpoon-like spear, and drove it with his whole strength into the broad back of his surly antagonist.

"That's through your dd black hide, tough though it be, else there's no virtue in iron -No, by the Lord -no blood!" and Mansfield ground his teeth with vexation, as the blunted spear glanced off the bear's shaggy hide, only inflicting a slight scratch. The enraged brute turned on his pursuer with a tremendous roar. Quick as thought Mansfield wheeled off to avoid the charge; but in doing so his horse stumbled; and ere Bundoolah could recover himself, the gigantic fore paws of the bear were clasped round his neck, his teeth firmly fixed in his throat, and horse and rider rolled together on the ground.

At this critical moment Charles appeared in sight, thundering over the stones at headlong speed-his horse in a lather of foam, his bloody spurs driven to the head at every stride, and his sword-blade flashing in the sun, as he waved it over his head.

Half mad with excitement, the impetuous boy never dreamt of gathering his horse together as he neared the bear, but dashed at him at speed, and with a slackened rein. The consequence was, that the animalterrified by the smell of blood, and the piteous groaning of poor Bundoolah, as he lay gasping in the deadly embrace of the bear-bounded suddenly to one side, reared up on end, and spun round. Charles, although a good horseman, was taken by surprise, lost his balance and fell. Nothing daunted, however, he instantly scrambled to his feet, rushed towards the bear, who still continued to hold down the struggling horse, and buried his sword up to the hilt in his body.

The wounded monster quitted the horse, and rushed, open-mouthed, at his new assailant. Charles sprang back to avoid the first rush, and watching his opportunity, when the bear reared on his hind legs, plunged the sword deep into his chest. Fortunately for Charles it pierced his heart. The enormous brute fell heavily forward; a stream of black blood gushed from his mouth; and the much-dreaded bear, the maneater, the monarch of the rocky glen, lay at the feet of his conqueror, a harmless mass of black fur and bear's grease.

"Hurra!" shouted Mansfield, who was just beginning to recover from the stunning effects of his fall, and had raised himself on his elbow, "killed him, by the Lord, and killed him well, too-Charles, you are a lucky dog; I would have given a month's pay to have struck that blow-but you may thank your good stars that you happened to touch his heart, for these infernal bears have as many lives as a cat, and had you stabbed him in any other part, he would have had your head half way down his throat before I could have come to your assistance. However, all's well that ends well-so lend me a hand to rise, Charles-Ha! confound it, how stiff I am. I verily believe Bundoolah must have rolled over me, for I feel as if my back were broken."

Mansfield, although stunned and severely bruised, had escaped all serious injury, and was quite fresh by the time the rest of the party

came up.

"Ishmail's old tulwar has proved a better weapon for tackling the