[Dan De Quille, A Combat With Tigers, San Francisco Call, 16 May 1897:26]

 

26        THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, MAY 16, 1897.

 

A COMBAT WITH TIGERS

BY DAN DE QUILLE

            "No," said Tom Moran, "adventures don't seem to come my way. My experiences in that line would hardly be worthy of mention, but somehow Brother Bob has a genuine talent for tumbling into all manner of adventures. Brother Bob has had quite a number of pretty close calls in the wild regions in which we have traveled, but he has plenty of grit and has always been able to pull through."

            Tom Moran is a miner who was graduated in the Comstock school of mining years ago and who has since had much experience in Mexico, Australia, India and other gold-producing countries.

            "It is singular that you should have been able to travel through so many strange countries without a few hairbreadth escapes or some other experience worthy of being related," said one of the old Comstock friends who ware questioning Tom in regard to his travels in foreign land. "Did you never run against a tiger while in India?"

            "Tiger," said Tom, with a laugh. "Well, yes, I've run against the 'tigers' of nearly every country on the two sides of the globe."

            'I am speaking now of the real, roaring ramping Bengal tiger— the striped beast of the jungle," said the Comstocker. "I saw quite a number of tigers while in India and went after the animals on regular hunts. I killed a few while I was there, in order to get some good skins."

            "Never got into close quarters with one?"

            "Well, not very; but Brother Bob had rather a bad bout with a big hill tiger up in Nepaul."

            "Did Bob get away with the tiger?"

            "Yes, Brother Bob is true grit; the tiger was killed."

            "As you had no adventures of your own during your travels, Tom," said a Comstocker, 'suppose you give us the story of Bob's tiger fight."

            "I am sorry Brother Bob is not here to tell you about his battle with 'Madame Stripes,' but as he is not with us this evening I will give you a little sketch of the affair as I saw it.

            "Brother Bob and I were up on the Nepaul frontier, headed for the lower slopes of the Himalayas.

            "In place of the ducks, cranes, coots and pelicans of the lagoons along the lowland course of the Koosee we now began to see quail, partridges, peafowl, florican and other upland birds. In places hidden in patches of dense jungle and overgrown with vines and creepers were dilapidated temples indicating that the whole country had at some time been inhabited, though in the present age only a few scattered villages are to be found. Outside of the villages there are here and there huts inhabited by the 'gwalla,' or cowherd caste, and these huts of the men of the cattle stations are often in the heart of almost impenetrable stretches of jungle.

            ''While in this beautiful region our guns kept us well supplied with all kinds of game, and we first and last killed many wolves, jackals, leopards and about a dozen tigers, great and small. The British and wealthy natives almost always use elephants in hunting tigers, sometimes having fifty or more of the huge beasts in line; but as we were not in a position to command a supply of elephants, we did our work on foot, hiring a score or more of coolies, with tomtoms, firecrackers and horns to beat through email patches of jungle. At first we mounted ourselves on 'mychans,' bamboo platforms, at the point where we expected the same to appear, but after we had learned something of the nature and ways of the tiger we did not bother with platforms, but took our chances on the ground.

            "The gwallas of the region were always ready to bring us news of a tiger having killed one of their cattle, and when we got news of a 'kill' we were soon out after the killer. Often the gwallas would be able to point out the patch of jungle to which the tiger had retired after making the kill and feasting his fill.

            "It was here in this foothill region that Brother Bob had his adventure with a big hill tiger. A 'shekarry,' a native expert hunter, who keeps himself well posted in regard to the movements of game and manages hunts for both British and rich natives, one day came to our camp and proposed to give us some sport. He said that as neither the English nor the native princes were hunting at that season business was very slack with him. He offered for a very reasonable price to bring out his people and beat through a piece of jungle which he knew to be alive with all kinds of game. As a part of the bargain Brother Bob and I were to kill as many wild hogs, deer and the like as we could knock over, the shekarry saying his people were all very hungry for meat.

            "The particular piece of jungle selected by the old game expert to be beaten through lay between the forks of two large streams with high and steep banks. A more favorably situated jungle for sport could not have been found. As Bob and I would station ourselves near the junction of the two streams nothing could pass that way without being seen. We took stations about fifty yards apart at a point where the jungle became somewhat thin and open, each thrusting into the ground a leafy branch of parass to serve as a screen or blind. After a long wait we heard faintly in the distance the sound of the tomtoms and the shouts of the beaters as they advanced into the jungle.

            "Presently we heard a rustling upon the stray leaves in front, and a troop of monkeys, loudly chattering their alarm, came hopping out of the dense jungle.

            "As yet we had seen no deer or other desirable game, but the beaters were still far away. Taking a peep from behind my screen, I was somewhat surprised to see a large female tiger come gliding out of the thick jungle, crouching close to the ground as she passed into the open. She was on Brother Bob's side of the jungle and was moving straight toward him, apparently more concerned about the commotion behind her than afraid of danger in front. Bob had also seen the tiger and had dropped to one knee behind his screen and leveled his rifle. Every moment I expected to hear the report of Bob's gun, as the tiger was within ten yards of his blind and was moving slowly.

            "Some noise in the jungle frightened the skulking beast and, after a quick backward glance, it blindly bounded forward. At the second bound the tiger landed almost on top of Bob, as he crouched behind his fragile screen. Instantly he fired, thrusting his rifle at the beast without aim. Wounded by the shot, the tiger uttered a howl of rage, dashed aside the screen and struck Bob a blow with a fore paw that sent his gun flying and left him stretched senseless on his back.

            "I rushed forward at once to Bob's assistance. As I ran the infuriated beast threw herself upon Bob and began tearing at him with her teeth. Hearing a sound as of cracking bones I thought every rib in poor Bob's body was being crushed. As I feared to use my rifle I threw it down and drew my revolver. My yells, as I rushed on the tiger, caused her to cease tearing at Bob and fix her eyes upon me. But she still retained her position across Bob's breast while showing her teeth and snarling at me.

            "I thought it probable that she was so badly wounded as not to be able to rise upon her legs and so decided to take her at close quarters and make sure of her. With my pistol in my right hand and in my left a long-bladed knife, sharp as a razor, I crept forward. I advanced crouched almost upon my knees, as the tiger's position across poor Bob was such that I feared to fire with a downward range.

            "I had got up within ten feet of the tiger when she suddenly left Bob and leaped at me. The charge of the beast was a surprise, but by a backward move I avoided her leap and as she passed fired my pistol into her neck, at the same moment plunging the knife into her side up to the hilt. She fell and aid not move from where she landed, the pistol shot having broken her neck.

            "Seeing the tiger was in its death struggles I turned my attention to Brother Bob, who was still stretched unconscious upon the ground. The beaters were fast approaching through the jungle with great uproar and thumping of tomtoms, wild hogs in droves, both black and gray, were rushing by, spotted deer were charging past and the whole jungle seemed alive with game of all kinds, some droves of wild pigs almost running over me.

            "I was just stooping over Bob when a huge male tiger bounded out of the jungle and halted within ten feet of where I stood. I had my pistol upon him in an instant, and as his head was so held that a bullet would not glance from his skull I took good aim and gave him a shot between the eyes that brought him down as dead as though he had been a sheep or an ox. Seeing that the shot had killed the tiger I ran down to the river, filled my hat with water and went to work to try to restore Bob's senses. He had been badly stunned and was breathing heavily, but I saw had no bad wounds and soon had the satisfaction to see him open his eyes, when it was not long before his wits returned and he was able to sit up. The paw of the tiger had struck him on the side of the head and knocked him senseless, but had only slightly wounded his scalp. The weight of the tiger on his chest had almost stopped his breath and he felt some internal soreness. We found that his life had been saved by a lucky chance. In a game-bag he had slung to his side were some quail and a pea-fowl or two, and it was these the tiger had seized upon and crunched in her blind rage, not Bob's ribs.

            "Bob was much astonished and bewildered when he saw two dead tigers stretched out alongside of him. I told him that he had gone into a sort of delirium of rage and killed them both, and for a time he believed my story. He said be had an indistinct recollection of having done a good deal of fighting. We found that his shot had plowed through the muscles of the female tiger's left shoulder, only slightly wounding her, but probably paralyzing her left fore leg.

            "When the old shekarry came up with his crowd of beaters he was at first much disappointed that we had killed no deer or wild pigs. 'Alas, sahibs,' cried he, 'no meat — no meat!' He, however, soon cheered up and took great credit to himself for having said there were tigers in the jungle. After the tigers were skinned we went down the river and killed for the old fellow quite a lot of pigs. We were well satisfied with our prizes, the skins of the two tigers. The male measured, as he lay on the ground, eleven feet two inches from tip to tip and the female ten feet four inches.

            "They were unusually large hill tigers, which are of heavier build than the tigers of the valleys, but average less in length. To kill tigers with a pistol was a feat before unheard of on the frontier, and obtained for us great credit for nerve, but give a tiger a square snot in the head and be will go down like a bullock. Many tigers are killed by single shots from rifles, bat the man who goes after tigers on foot must have a considerable amount of nerve. I could always bet on the nerve of Brother Bob."