Before describing my experience with a man-eating tiger, I want to tell something of their habits and the usual methods of hunting them.
There are three classes of tiger, the game killer, the cattle killer and the man-eater.
The game killer confines himself to heavy jungle amongst the hills, where he keeps to the feeding-grounds and resorts of game; he is a great killer of deer and wild pigs; he shuns the haunts of man and wanders in the jungle at all hours.
They are lighter and more active than the cattle killer. Doubtless the reason is that they have to travel farther for their food.
The terror inspired throughout a district by a man-eating tiger is extreme and the natives are only safe in numbers. The rapidity and certainty of its movements form the chief element of the terror it causes; it is generally an old tiger or tigress, or one that has been wounded or otherwise hurt, and has been unable to procure its food in its usual way.
Cattle-killing tigers frequent jungle close to villages and seize a victim amongst cattle where they graze, or pick up a stray animal about the villages at night.
The largest tigers are found amongst the habitual cattle killers. When a tiger becomes old and fat he usually settles down in some locality where beef and water are plentiful, and here he lives on amicable terms with the villages, killing a cow or bullock about once in four or five days.
A full grown, large tiger would have no chance in a fair fight with a bull-bison; the latter's brawny throat, with its hide one and a half inches thick, would afford him a difficult hold, even could he attain it, and no wrench could dislocate the bison's powerful neck, while the tiger would be crushed out of all recognition if once caught between the ground and the bison's massive forehead or forelegs.
I have never witnessed a tiger actually seize its prey, but it has been described to me by natives who have seen them many times while tending cattle. The general method is for the tiger to slink up under cover of bushes or long grass ahead of the cattle and to make a rush at the first cow or bullock that comes within five or six yards. The tiger does not "spring" upon his prey in the manner usually represented, but clutching the bullock's forequarters with his paws, one being generally over the shoulder, he seizes the throat in his jaws from underneath and turns it upwards and over, sometimes, springing to the far side in doing so to throw the bullock over and give the wrench which dislocates its neck.
The popular belief that a tiger can kill his prey by a stroke is erroneous. I have never seen anything to support this belief nor is it held by natives. I have seen several cattle severely lacerated which had escaped from tigers, where had a heavy blow accompanied the strokes of the paws, bones must have been broken.
There is no foundation for the belief in tigers sucking the blood of their victims; the jugular vein is seldom if ever injured; it is by the fracturing of the vertibræ, not by blood-letting, that the tiger's prey is deprived of life. In eating, the tiger invariably commences at the hindquarters and the exact spot where the first mouthful will be taken can be told with certainty.
The flesh of one or both thighs, and sometimes the flanks, or about fifty or sixty pounds of meat is eaten the first night.
Tigers seldom lie up far from their kill if the cover be thick and quiet; they eat whenever inclined either by day or night till the carcass is finished; this is usually on the third day; but of course, this depends upon the size of the animal killed. After or during a meal the tiger drinks largely, often walking belly deep into the water.
Tigers' power of enduring hunger and thirst is very great. Once we surrounded with nets a tiger, tigress and a leopard. We shot the leopard the first day, but the enclosed thicket was so dense that we could not get the tigers to show, but on the fifth day we wounded them both. After this, as nothing would make them break cover, I sent for elephants and killed them still full of vigor on the tenth day. The circle in which they were enclosed was about seventy yards in diameter, and the heat of the fires kept up night and day was considerable, yet they existed without a drop of water for ten days, suffering from wounds half the time. A tiger can go much longer than this without serious inconvenience. One of the most powerful elements in the tiger's attack is his voice. If the attack be commenced very near, the startling, coughing roar is almost paralyzing to the coolest, but if the tiger has to come on from any distance, he rarely does more than grunt, and the hunter's attention is concentrated on the beast itself, so the demonstration passes unnoticed.
The power of the tiger's voice at close quarters may be understood by anyone who has had an opportunity of seeing a newly caged tiger; it is almost impossible to watch the charge against the bars without flinching, if standing within a yard or so of them, but if seen at twenty yards distance it is nothing.
The tigress does not breed oftener than once in two years. They do not breed at any fixed season. Cubs have been taken in March, May and October.
A tigress feeds her cubs when very young with half-digested flesh which she disgorges on her return from hunting or kill. Carrying meat to any distance would be an unnatural proceeding, and the half-digested flesh is probably better adapted to the requirements of young cubs.
When only six weeks old the cubs move from place to place with their mother, but are left at home while she hunts, though she leads them to feast if near when she kills.
Watching for the return from a kill, or at a pool where they are known to drink, is a method of hunting chiefly practiced by natives. Poison pitfalls and traps are generally brought into play when dealing with a man-eater. There is perhaps no method of shooting tigers so seldom successful as watching for their return to feed on animals they have killed. For my part, I confess to a great liking for the silent and solitary watch, which kind of shooting requires the utmost vigilance and patience.
In a shady, green-screened platform in some fine tree, watching at the cool of evening, when jungle sounds alone break the stillness and birds and animals seldom seen at other times steal forth and can be watched at leisure, an intense excitement is kept alive by the possibility of the tiger's appearance at any moment. Those without experience at this game do well to pause, but one who knows the beast he has to deal with may kill many dangerous animals on foot without accident or even serious adventure. Almost every accident that occurs is directly traceable to ignorance or carelessness; the hunter is a tyro or over-venturesome, or due precautions are not observed when following a wounded beast on foot and moving about where he does not think the animal can possibly be, he is seized.
Tiger shooting on foot can never, of course, be safe sport; risks must be run, but if properly conducted, dangerous game shooting on foot is not the mad amusement usually supposed.
It makes all the difference in the world whether the animal to be attacked is wounded or not, and whether any tiger should be attacked on foot or left alone depends greatly on the nature of the jungle in which he is found.
In the grass plains and thick undergrowth in parts of the Malay Peninsula I have seen tigers that could only be shot at from the elevation of an elephant's back. None but the utterly ignorant would think of following a wounded tiger in the long grass or close cover where it has every advantage, and the hunter may be seized before he has time to use his rifle. In such cover the tiger rarely makes any demonstration, seeking only to avoid observation, but when almost stumbled upon he attacks like lightning.
Under no temptation should a hunter's last shot be fired at a retreating beast.
The really best time for tiger hunting in the Malay Peninsula is in the height of the hot season, July and August, when the water supply is at its lowest ebb. The tigers being very impatient of thirst, seek the lowest valley where much of the game he preys upon has gathered and where the village cattle are regularly watered.
It is quite useless to devote much time in hunting the hill or game killing tiger that preys upon game alone; they are so scattered over a large tract of jungle and so active and wary that it is only by accident that they are ever brought to bay.
The average size of a full-grown tiger is from eight and a half to nine feet from nose to tip of tail and weight from two hundred and seventy-five to three hundred and twenty-five pounds.
One day an old friend, Tungku S'leman, a petty rajah from Kelantan, then under the Siamese Protectorate but now under the British, called on me and invited me to go back with him to his district to trap or kill tigers, and he assured me I would be able to get some fine tiger cubs. I was in fact very anxious to secure a few good specimens of young tigers, but as his district was far inland, near the boundary line of a small state called "Rawang," I did not think it worth my while to go, for it would involve a lot of time, and knowing the Malays and their ways so well, it might mean that I would have to beat about the country on a wild goose chase. A Malay will always exaggerate, no matter on what subject, and, as stated elsewhere in my articles, they finally believe what they are telling. They will never do today what can be put off until tomorrow—"Nou-tee Bess-so" (wait tomorrow) is one of the principal words in their vocabulary.
As the Tung-ku's district was difficult to reach, the Kelantan river branching miles from the nearest point, and elephants being the only means of travel, I told him that if I decided to go back with him he would have to furnish the elephants and all the men I might need. I also pointed out to him the difficulty in transporting animals and cages to the coast, and that the cost in time to me would probably be greater than the trip and animals were worth. It was my policy not to show any interest.
I could see that the Tungku was anxious to have me return with him to his district, as it was tiger infested, and his people were leaving on that account. He agreed to do everything in his power as to men, elephants and transportation to the coast. I told him I was very busy but that I would think it over, and to come back in a few days when I would give him a definite answer.
As nearly all my animals had been shipped from my house in Orchard Road, I decided to take the trip with Tungku S'leman and go in for not only tigers but whatever it was possible to get. I was keen on securing a good specimen of rhinoceros, and tapir, so made my preparations for a lengthy stay in his district, and for getting whatever animals I could, large or small. When on the following day the Tungku came to see me and I told him I would go back with him, he seemed a happy man. I advised him to send his chief follower on ahead so that he could have the elephants meet us at the end of our trip down the Kelantan river, to take us inland, as that would save a lot of time and unnecessary waiting for them to come down for us. He assured me the elephants were there as they would remain until he returned. So the following week we started up the coast in a small vessel, and arriving at Koto Bharn, we went up by boat to the capital, Kelantan, and the next day after paying my respects to the Sultan, we started up the Kelantan river to where the river turned further south. Here at a kampong we found the four elephants of Tungku S'leman. We stopped four days at this kampong, getting everything packed that would not be used or wanted until we reached the Tungku's village, which meant a four days' journey through jungle.
Taking six men, including the headman, I started on a tour of inspection of that district for the best location to set up our traps, dig pits, and spread nets for smaller game, as the headman informed me that deer, wild pigs and tapir were numerous, but very shy. On our return to the kampong, I had a trap made and set up for the catching of tigers and leopards, and explained how the nets were to be made of rattan, both large and small mesh, and how to set them amongst the trees. I was particular to impress upon the headman that he was to remove all signs of the jungle being disturbed and if possible have a goat tied to the windward while setting up the large trap.
I did the same at the two other kampongs before we reached Tungku S'lamen's village, where I was received with interest by the natives, as I was one of the very few white people they had ever seen, and as the runners had hurried on ahead as we were getting close to his village, they were all out to see Man Gagah (Sir Elephant). After resting for a few days and hearing whatever news there was regarding the man-eater that was terrorizing the district, I thought it best to try and round him up by elephants.
As they are cowardly, as well as cunning, they are most difficult to stalk, and as their movements are so uncertain it is very difficult to locate them, it was essential that the men who were to work with me could be depended upon at the right moment. I assured them that in numbers they were safe from the tiger, and that by showing a bold front the tiger would be more afraid of them than they of it. The last time it had been reported had been about ten days before, and nothing could be done for the time being, so I started the men making traps, snares and nets. These I intended to set up within a certain area, while with others I started out on a tour of inspection with the elephants to visit all the water holes and drinking pools in the surrounding district. There I intended to have pits dug and to mark the best places for setting the nets; the traps I intended to set up later, depending more on the nets, as I had already had traps set up in the kampongs on our way to the Tungku's village. I spent a whole week in working out different areas for snaring by nets.
I had nets made of twisted rattan in sizes of twenty by fifteen feet with meshes six inches, other nets ten by eight and five by five feet with meshes according to what the net was best adapted for.
The older men who could not follow the hunt, I had put to work making transporting or rough string cages and crates, for monkeys as well as tigers.
My plan was to work each section or area and catch by either net or pit whatever we could. Everything was in readiness to start at daybreak the following morning, when a native came running into the kampong, crying as he ran, "Re-mow, Sa-tan" (Devil Tiger). The man was about to collapse with fright and exhaustion from running. I calmed him so he could tell his story, which was that while he, his wife and daughter were gathering some faggots not one hundred yards from his hut, the tiger suddenly sprang from the thicket and striking his daughter down, carried her off in the jungle. After leaving his wife in the hut, he ran to the Tungku's kampong to inform the Tungku what had happened.
As it was too late in the afternoon to do anything I told Tungku S'lamen to send out the alarm for all the available men; the alarm is sounded by the striking of a hollow log, which can be heard for miles in the stillness of the jungle, and all natives hearing the booming sound know its meaning. I advised Tungku to send five or six men back with the messenger and for them to stay with him until we came the next morning. The hunt was on, and all preparations were made at once for our early start, as the men began to flock in from the outlying kampong. They were to stay at the Tungku's kampong that night to be ready to start at daybreak after eating their breakfast. There was intense excitement throughout the whole night, very little sleep for anyone, for, as I told the men, they would not return until we had killed the tiger. A few of the natives, especially the headmen, had flintlock, muzzle-loading rifles. To these I handed out extra powder and slugs; they were really good marksmen and men who could be depended on at the right moment.
We started at daybreak. The men having eaten, everyone was anxious and eager to be off, now that the hunt was to be conducted not alone by a white man, but in numbers. There were fifty natives; the Tungku and two of his headmen with their flintlock rifles rode on the first elephant, while Ali and myself followed behind on the second, the third with stores bringing up the rear, for I had no idea when we would get back. Although the Tungku assured me the elephants were well broken, I did not place any reliance on them. Riding on an elephant and jogging along peacefully is one thing, and tiger hunting on the back of one is quite another. As I have mentioned elsewhere, they are excessively timid both in their wild and domestic state, and to become a well-trained, tiger-hunting elephant, one so broken must have plenty of courage and experience. It is simply madness to attempt to use an elephant that has never been broken and tried out, as they will always bolt. Then again, if one never had a gun fired from its back, the effect is rather startling to his riders. It is a terrible thing to be bolted with while on an elephant's back in the jungle. I intended to take no chances while mounted as far as shooting was concerned, depending on cornering the tiger, if possible, and if the ground were favorable, start on foot.
Besides my 50-110 express, I had a Holland double-barrel 450 and a Fox No. 12 smooth bore shotgun. Ali had his spears, but was to use either the express or double-barrel Holland if we came up with the tiger. The other men carrying spears, parangs and tom-toms made up the party. Arriving at the place where the girl had been seized, two men who were experienced trackers took up the trail, which was quite fresh and plain and could be easily followed. Presently we came upon the remains of the poor victim. Very little was left—only the head and upper part of her body. We stopped only long enough to bury the remains. The tracks were not over an hour old, and as the jungle was sparse, it would give no cover to the tiger. After crossing a small stream, his track led toward a rocky hill less than two miles distant, coming suddenly into a clearing with tall grass.
I shouted to the men to spread out, keep quiet, and move slowly within a few feet of each other. As the grass was still heavy with dew, we could see where the tiger had passed through to the right into the thicker jungle. We had perhaps traveled about one hour, the tracks becoming difficult to follow on account of heavy undergrowth, when we were startled by the screaming and chattering of monkeys. We knew then the tiger was not far ahead, and at the same time the elephant that the Tungku was on, spreading his ears and raising his trunk, uttered a shrill, brassy trumpet, expressing his fear. I called to the Tungku to take the elephant back, as he would be worse than useless. He was quickly turned about and driven behind, the Tungku coming up with me, the two headmen joining the men on foot. The elephant I was on showed no sign of uneasiness; the mahout or driver spoke sharply to him, calling back to me that he could handle him as that was not the first time he had been used in smelling tiger. Still I was loath to risk firing a gun from his back.
We followed the trail of the chattering monkeys, when suddenly they ceased, as we came to a very heavy patch with thick undergrowth, excellent cover for the tiger, into which he had evidently gone. The patch itself was not more than seventy yards in diameter. I called to the men to stretch but and surround the place, and make as much noise as possible, keeping close together.
As soon as the patch was surrounded, I told the Tungku to send the two elephants, the one he had been on and the other one carrying stores, back to his kampong for more men, and the men as they came on were to cut and load up the elephants with all the dry wood they could; also each man was to carry some wood and as many of the long nets as had been made. These I intended to spread out at the back and as much around the sides as possible, making doubly sure he should not escape. I told the Tungku we would not leave the spot until the tiger had been killed. I had a platform built with "kaj-ongs" forming the roof. This was very soon finished, and late in the afternoon the elephants returned with more foodstuffs, wood and forty men. Each man had gathered a good bundle of dried wood, which wood I had passed around, as I intended to form a circle of fire and keep the tiger within the circle. I then had the fires started and they were kept up the whole night, but in the morning the fires that were in front of the platform were allowed to die out, and after the men had taken turns eating, I ordered them to close in about twenty-five feet, throwing the fire before them. In this way I kept narrowing the circle every few hours while we on the platform kept a keen lookout.
On the second day one of the headmen on the left side of the circle fired a shot at what he said was the tiger. Instantly there was a great commotion and the men started shouting and making a great noise. We were keenly on the alert, as the platform faced the only spot of the circle that was open and free from fire, and hoped the tiger would break cover. Suddenly Ali, touching me, quietly said, as he raised his gun to his shoulder, "Tuem-block-on-po-ko" (behind the tree). Telling him to cover the left side, I covered the right side of the tree the tiger was crouching behind, and told Ali to shoot as close to the tree as he could without hitting it. He fired, and almost instantly I let go at a streak of yellow and black; it disappeared at once. The yelling by this time was enough to drown the grunt or roar of the tiger; there was no way at the time to know if we had succeeded in hitting it, so completing the fire circle in front of the platform, we lay down to sleep as best we could. What little wind there was, was in our direction, and kept us pretty free from being eaten alive by mosquitoes.
On the morning of the fourth day the tiger had not broken cover and as the circle had now narrowed to about fifty yards, the heat was intense, for the fires were kept going day and night. Still the tiger would not break cover. I was determined to go into the circle then with the elephant, as the nets were well put up at the back, outside of the fire, and that allowed more men to strengthen the sides. I was taking no chances of escape. I had two headmen get up on the elephant I had come on, and told the driver to back a short distance, as I wanted the headmen to shoot off their guns from the elephant's back, in order to watch the effect on the elephant. I told them to each fire his gun off on opposite sides but not at the same instant. Well, he never moved, and when those muzzle-loading flintlocks go off they certainly kick and make a startling noise. After that test I was satisfied to take the chance and told the Tungku that Ali and myself were going in after the tiger, and that he and his two headmen must keep a sharp lookout from the platform and have their guns trained on the opening. The mahout was a plucky fellow and felt very proud, assuring me he could handle his elephant.
I passed the word for all the men to be on the lookout and allow the fire on the right side to die out, to keep together, and those of the headmen who had guns should shoot if the tiger tried to break through. As soon as the fires had died down, I told the driver to go ahead and keep to the right side. When on an elephant in fair ground, the object should be to get the tiger to charge instead of letting him sneak away, for the hunt is then ended in a short and exciting encounter, but if once let away it may be hours before he is found again, if he ever is at all.
Coming opposite the tree where we had shot at the tiger, and under a patch of heavy undergrowth, against a large boulder, we both saw it. Seeing the elephant it gave a coughing roar, and as it did I let go, catching it fair in the eye. Ali had his spear poised ready to throw, but the man-eater slumped down and to make sure I put another explosive bullet in its side as it lay. I called to the Tungku we had got it. I will not try, for I could not adequately describe the scene which followed when the men knew their foe had been killed; shouting, yelling, dancing, they went wild. Runners started off at once racing back to the kampong to tell the news and have the women make ready a feast. The return to the kampong was like a royal procession. The Tungku and I on the elephant led the way, the men carrying the dead tiger, singing and laughing, calling the dead animal all manner of names. There was great feasting that night; it was made hideous with the singing and beating of tom-toms, and, although dead tired from lack of rest, sleep was impossible. In the morning the Tungku did a most astonishing thing; nothing of the kind had ever been known to the oldest subject; he set free five of his debt slaves.
On examination I found that the first time we fired at her, while behind the trees, as she leapt back from the shot Ali had fired, I had caught her in the flank, smashing the hind leg, and with all her suffering, thirst and heat, she never betrayed her cover or uttered a sound.
She measured eight and three-quarters feet from tip of nose to tip of tail and weighed about two hundred and ninety pounds. She was in milk, but though we searched, we never found her cubs.
For fully a week after the killing of the man-eating tiger, I devoted all my time seeing to the making of rough transportation cages, crates of all sizes, and small nets. One morning I told the Tungku of a plan I had to get some large nets made in a hurry. "Te-dor, bully tûan" (Cannot be done, sir), said he, shaking his head. I then explained to him how I intended to work it. Clapping his hands to his sides he went into a fit of laughter, and was as pleased as a child, saying: "By tûan by (Good, sir, good)." I have stated before that getting work out of a Malay was an art that can only be attained by close intercourse and complete confidence on the part of the native and by making work seem play or a game. To stage the affair in the best light I had the Tungku give orders for a general assembly of the men of the kampong, saying that the Tûan had a game he wanted the men to enter into, and when they were all assembled, I told them I was going to offer prizes to the men picked out and worked as crews, that made the best and most nets in four days,—one day for the cutting and washing the rattan, one day for the splitting and twisting the rattan into rope, and two days for net-making, the net-making to start on the third day at six o'clock in the morning until four o'clock in the afternoon and no work to be done on the nets until the next morning, when they started again at six o'clock and worked until four. The nets were to be made ten by eight with six-inch mesh, there would be four men to a crew, and three crews would go in for the prizes. Those who wanted to enter were to step forward and the Tungku would pick them out—no old men or boys. They were to start the next morning, the prizes were five dollars (Mexican) to each man of the crew that made the best and most nets, three dollars each to the next crew and two dollars each to the last. As soon as the Tungku had picked them out, each crew should choose the space they wanted to work in and set their poles and stakes for the twisting of the rattan and the making of the nets. This I told them to do as it saved them a lot of time, trouble and confusion, for then each crew would know the space it was to work in so as not to interfere and get in one another's way. The race was not to begin until the next morning at six o'clock, when they were to line up at the Tungku's house and at the word "go" start for the jungle and cut rattan.
Believe me, I started something! If there is one thing a Malay loves, it is a game or race of any kind, pitting themselves against one another; anything that has a flavor of sport that can be gambled on.
Every man was eager, and the Tungku, looking them over, picked out the men, and as each man was chosen, the men, women and children howled with delight, clapping hands, passing all manner of jokes and banter. When the men were picked out the Tungku formed them in crews; they were a pretty proud lot. Again warning them that they could not start making the nets until the second day, and that after they started in the morning to cut the rattan, if they were caught taking help from any of their friends, they would be thrown out of the race, he told them to get busy and lay out their poles and stakes. The Tungku shaking his head and laughing, said: "Tûan bow-gar poro-day sea-opper pe-care, e-to (Sir, you are very clever, who would think of that)."
In the meantime the men and their friends got to work staking out and putting up cross-sections and poles for the twisting of rattan and the making of the nets. Everyone in the kampong was laughing and talking over it. It was going to be great sport and plenty of fun; each had their favorites and were already making wagers on them. This was not work! This was play, sport, a game, rivalry, having an audience, for the whole kampong and those from the outlying districts would be there; men, women and children cheering and edging them on, not alone for the prizes but the prestige it would give to be known as the best and fastest net-makers in the whole of Kelantan. The tiger hunt was off, and the net-making and round-up was on.
At daybreak the following morning, the whole kampong gathered at the Tungku's, and, after eating the breakfast of rice and dried fish, started off for the jungle to cut, collect and wash the rattan.
One who has never seen rattan in its natural state would be quite deceived by its appearance; it is not the smooth, shining, pointed cane one sees in the market; it grows as a vine, sometimes one hundred feet and over, up and down trees or along the ground, twisting in and out; it is covered by an outer shell or skin, and at each joint a circle of thorns an inch in length. The outer skin and thorns are scraped away, washed and cut in lengths of sixteen feet, one hundred lengths to a bundle, and the rattan is ready for the market. They grow in various thickness. The Malacca cane is the thickest grown.
Everybody went down to the stream where they would strip the thorns and peel off the outer skin, wash, split and cut in lengths; the crews kept cutting like mad. I do not believe there ever was so much rattan cut, stripped, washed and cut in lengths in the state of Kelantan, or in any other state, in one day as those twelve men did.
On the morning of the third day, the whole district was in holiday attire and all on edge to see and encourage their friends to be the first. The rattan was all laid out in two piles in cut lengths of twelve and ten feet and seventy-two pegs or bamboo stakes were driven into the ground. I myself had measured off the ground and stakes for length and width of nets. Twenty each, stakes for top and bottom, and sixteen stakes each for width.
The first day was pretty nearly a tie, although one crew had started on another net and had got one-quarter of it finished when a halt was called for the day. Nine nets on the following day, the crew that had one-quarter of a net finished the day before finishing four nets by four o'clock; the other two were practically tied, and as such I gave them credit; they had three and a half nets finished, and each of the crew received second prize money, three dollars each. There was great satisfaction, although the first crew with their five dollars each were strutting around and talking big. After finishing the half-made nets, I had twenty-one ten by eight rattan nets. Great work in four days; had I gone any other way about getting them, it would have taken twice as long. Even with the money prizes, they cost me on an average of only two dollars (Mexican) or one dollar each.
The third day after the net-making contest, taking fifteen men and loading their nets, large and small, on an elephant, we started off for a half day's journey from the kampong to set up the nets on the ground and in the trees, also to dig pits at the water-holes. We had been moving on slowly, the first elephant carrying the nets, breaking a trail for about three hours, when we heard the screaming and chattering of monkeys. The natives first thought the cry was "re-mow" (tiger); the men on the first elephant halted just at reaching a break in the jungle; they called back, all excited: "Tûan, Bar-be. Ari-men kombing, be-prong (Sir, a fight between a pig and a leopard)." By the time I arrived alongside the other elephant at the clearing, both elephants were becoming restive, but were being calmed down by their drivers.
I came upon a sight I shall never forget, a full-grown leopard and a Baba-rusa (wild boar) in a deadly combat. I was fascinated by the sight; no noise would have disturbed them, for what with the snarling, screaming, grunting of the two, and the screaming of the monkeys, it was difficult for me to even make the men I was talking to hear. The fight must have been going on for some time before we got there. The pig's jaws dripped with blood and foam, his beady red eyes following each move of the leopard, his flanks and back covered with blood from the clawing and biting it had suffered, but still strong, nimble and full of fight; the leopard's side and neck gashed open and blood streaming from the wounds. One can hardly credit the quickness of a wild boar; they are lightning fast on their feet; their big head and thick hide are a match for any tiger in a fair fight, let alone a leopard, and although a leopard is very quick, the boar with its wicked tusks matched him in all his moves and springs. It made no difference which way the leopard would spring, it was always met by a ripping of the tusks. It was an ideal place for an encounter of this kind; a clear, open space, neither having an advantage, the ground baked hard. It gave a firm foothold to the boar as it allowed it to turn and meet the rushes and springs of the leopard, and as the leopard would spring the boar would dart forward, throwing up its head at the same time, the tusks ripping whatever they came in contact with. The object of the leopard was to get a firm hold on the back of the boar, while the boar, unmindful of biting and clawing, was bent on getting the leopard down and disemboweling him. The men became as excited as the monkeys in the trees, and it was difficult to distinguish which were making the more noise or were the more excited. I am positive we looked upon the fight ten minutes, and I cannot judge how long they were at it before we came upon them; they were both becoming weaker from the loss of blood.
As we watched them with bated breath, the leopard kept circling around, crouching for a spring, while the boar, never taking its small red eyes from the leopard, with head lowered, was watching and ready to meet the next move. Almost too quick for the eye to follow, the leopard sprang at the boar like lightning, the boar jumped forward and aside and, in a flash, turned and as the leopard the ground, before it could recover, was upon it, striking it with its head and throwing it on its side. Standing on its adversary, with its front feet holding it down and unmindful of the snarling, biting and clawing, with a squealing grunt, the boar lowered his head and with one ripping thrust disemboweled the leopard.
It was done quicker than the eye could follow. The leopard lay where it was; it attempted to rise, but the boar, jumping and stamping upon it, it fell back, gave one or two spasmodic efforts to rise and turned over dead. The boar still standing over it, squealing, its head rolling from side to side, its hind feet sagged and, giving a squealing grunt, fell over the leopard, dead. It was truly a battle royal. I was thrilled. I could not move. It was the most thrilling sight I think I ever witnessed. My admiration for the boar was great; had he not died, and had been able to move off, I would have made no attempt to either stop or kill him. It was a magnificent fight, with the boar on his feet last.
We buried the dead fighters and went on our way. Coming to a small stream, I decided to make camp. We built platforms in trees for sleeping and as a cache for stores, cutting down the surrounding trees and leaving a small clearing. The next day I had the men cut saplings and rattan to make rough transportation cages. I wanted everything handy so a cage could be made in a few moments. The natives could not at first understand why I went to all the trouble of having all the wood ready for cages and nothing to put in them. Their idea was to get the animals first and then cage them. I pointed out that an animal in a net was sure to injure itself in its struggle to escape and the sooner it was in a cage and free from the nets, the safer it would be, for if they were injured in any way, they were useless. We stayed four days at this camp, arranging the nets and digging a few pits after caching stores in the trees. Before starting on the first drive I explained to the Tungku what I considered the most difficult problem of the expedition, namely a clear road to the river and to the coast, as all cages would have to be drawn to the river on runners or sleds, and the jungle paths would have to be cleared of fallen trees and undergrowth. I told him he had better send four or five men to clear and widen the path to the next kampong and the headman there to do the same on to the next, and so on to the river, the headman at the river to gather bamboo and logs for making of rafts. For the drive itself and the work pertaining to it, fifty men would answer. We would be away from the kampong about one week and at the farthest one half day's journey. Should occasion arise, I would send back for bullocks to bring in the cages. Everything being arranged to my satisfaction as to the transportation, we started off the next morning and arrived at the clearing where the leopard and boar had battled, and started the drive at that point. The Tungku and I rode on, the elephant in the center, twenty-five men on each side and an elephant at each end, headmen with their muzzle loaders on the elephants.
At the striking of a tom-tom we all started to move toward the camp. The men were told to make as much noise as they wished and believe me it was a noisy crowd. They went at it heart and soul, not only on account of the incentive of clearing out of their district a lot of destructive animals, but the killing of the man-eating tiger and the net-making contest, the way I had gone about things in general had inspired them all with the utmost confidence. They believed that no possible harm could come to them while with me, and my slightest wish was carried out. The drive itself is not dangerous as you are fairly safe in numbers.
With the men shouting, and cutting the undergrowth, and the two elephants at each end breaking through, there was enough noise to startle and drive any animal before it. Our work in extracting whatever we caught and the putting together of cages, would not allow those animals caught in nets much chance to bite through or injure themselves as we could handle the most violent ones first.
In handling and taking from the nets the smaller animals a thick bamboo was used hollowed throughout, about five or six feet long, with a length of stout rattan, the end doubled together and run through the bamboo, leaving a loop at one end which could be slipped over the head of the animal through the mesh, and drawn taut against the end of the bamboo and held by two natives. Although they would wiggle and twist and squirm, they were helpless, and as the net would be unfurled, another loop held by two other natives would then be slipped over its head and as the other loop was allowed to come free from the bamboo, they would take the animal which was now clear of the net and drop it in the rough cage. With the bars fastened and the animal safe, it was ready to be sent on to the nearest kampong.
This method of course could only be used with the smaller animals. The larger cat animals that were caught in the nets, two leopards and one clouded tiger were so entangled that we put nets and all in the rough cages and then from between the bars, cut enough of the mesh in the net for the animals to free themselves. The larger deer gave us a lot of trouble on account of getting their horns and feet entangled through the meshes and most had to be killed. These we fed to the cat animals, after we had taken our fill. One tapir and calf we got in nets, the other two in pits. The wild boars gave us the most trouble. Whereas the tapirs were timid, the boars were very vicious and could only be put in cages by the same method I used with leopards. With the tigers and leopards caught in set traps, a transportation cage is set close to one end of the trap with two bars raised. A chicken or bait of some kind is placed within the cage, then a couple of bars of the trap are loosened and drawn out. If the animal refuses to enter the cage he is prodded with poles until he does, the bars are then slipped into their place and the animal is secured. There is really no danger or excitement in trapping and caging of tigers, or any animal caught in a trap of that kind.
In all I stayed with the Tungku nine weeks and the round-up of animals caught by net and pit, included ninety-two different varieties, not including three tigers, two spotted and one black leopard—forty-three cages and sixteen crates. This only includes those specimens in good condition. I do not count the animals that were killed off on account of not being fit to show for zoölogical purposes.
It was my good fortune during my stay with the Tungku to witness a bull fight. Under a covered shed on a raised platform the Sultan with his Court and guests sat, while the natives, five and six deep, either sat on the ground or stood forming a circle of about seventy yards in which the bulls fight.
The bulls belonged to a local breed. They are small in size, but sturdy, well built, very quick in movements, have a small hump on their necks, and short sharp horns. They are trained for fighting from early youth and out in the ring about the age of three, but are at their best at four or five years old. Bulls of as nearly as possible the same size and weight are generally matched to fight, and when once the bulls have been let go, the fight continues till one turns tail and leaves the field.
Each bull has three or four men who encourage it to greater efforts and when the fight is over lead it away.
Sometimes one of the bulls declines to fight altogether and rushes away the moment he is faced by his adversary. The victor then performs a strange sort of war dance alone, whirling round and round, tossing his head, bellowing and snorting and finally dashing off in pursuit of the enemy, demoralizing and scattering the crowd of spectators who fall over each other in their efforts to get out of his dangerous path.
Usually there is a fight more or less prolonged and when at last one bull gives way and runs for the field, he is followed, caught and brought back again to face his adversary. If he fights again, well and good, but the second bout rarely lasts any time and the beaten bull again saves himself by flight. That settles the matter as far as backers are concerned and the bets are paid. It very seldom happens that a bull is killed or even seriously injured. As soon as the bulls arrive on the ground, they are inspected at close quarters by the backers, while the setters-on give the last touches to their champion. They take the cover from the points of their horns, squeeze and rub a lemon on their nose and tongue, and tickle their back and sides. The bets are made and deposited with the stakeholder. The choice of position is decided by the drawing of one or two blades of grass held in the umpire's hand. The owner who draws the short blade takes the upstream position for his bull, while the other bull faces him from downstream. The setters-on then bring their respective bulls closely up to have a good look at each other, slowly pass about ten yards apart, and then bring them face to face. The leading ropes are suddenly cast off and the bulls dash at each other with fury and meet head on with a resounding thud. In a second their horns are interlocked, each trying by every ruse and device to drive the other back on his haunches or throw him over by main force. A moment later the horns are disengaged to find a new and a better purchase, and first one and then the other will gain a slight advantage and both bulls move this way and that from the center to the sides. The people of the East are seldom supposed to give way to demonstrations expressing emotion, but while a bull fight is on the Malays yell themselves hoarse with shouts of encouragement and approval, while the setters-on half mad with excitement simply dance around the bulls.
The varying tide of the battle carried the bulls to the center of the circle, and the novice which at first contented himself with simply resisting the attacks of his antagonist now made his great effort, pressing irresistibly forward, and bringing his great weight so to bear, that at last his adversary was forced back a few inches. Another effort and another, then gathering himself together, he rushed the other back and the latter's hind legs giving way under the pressure, he was thrown on his side and the other was upon him, butting unmercifully with his short, sharp-pointed horns. The old bull was beaten, but gathering himself together he recovered his legs and disappeared amidst a scene of the wildest excitement; men shouting themselves hoarse and otherwise expressing their delight. The excitement did not last more than a few minutes, then everybody quietly discussed what was held to be a great fight. It lasted about twenty minutes. The beaten bull was brought back again but as he declined to face his late adversary, he was led away, the bets were paid, and every one settled down again to wait for the next fight.
On my return from the round-up, for several years I did not venture into the jungle for more than a day or two at a time. My fever and dysentery had become chronic. I realized that I had too often disregarded the warning of the doctors and that, if I had another bad attack of illness, far away from medical attention, I should have to leave the country or might possibly die before I got way. My animal business in Singapore had grown so large that it gave me plenty to do, and I left to my agents the work of collecting. Through my house in Orchard Road passed a steady stream of animals, destined for zoölogical gardens all over the world.
Most of the animals went to the various Australian gardens for which I acted as agent. They allowed me to make my shipments f.o.b. Singapore, relieving me of the risks of transportation. In return, I gave them first call on all of my best specimens. When their needs had been supplied I had my choice between shipping to Hagenbeck's agent at Calcutta, shipping to Europe, and selling to the crews of boats that called at Singapore. The officers and men bought many animals, sharing the cost and eventually sharing the profits if the animals lived to reach Europe. Ariff, by crooked dealing and passing off sickly animals, had almost ruined this business, but it revived rapidly when the word spread that I could be depended upon. Ariff and I had many stormy sessions before I convinced him that my way was the better, and he finally came to handle a large part of the boat trade for me, doing the work of soliciting orders and making deliveries on commission.
I made very few sales directly to America. The trouble and risk of the long voyage were too great, and also there was a twenty-five per cent duty to be paid when the animals were landed. The gamble was large, and, even when the deliveries were safely made, there was little profit. Some of my animals reached America through Hagenbeck, who kept them until they were acclimated and then shipped them across the Atlantic. The acclimatization and breeding of animals in captivity is a business in itself.
Hagenbeck approached me several times with the proposition to become his exclusive agent in the Far East, but I preferred to have my own business and sell independently. Both he and Cross of Liverpool kept me busy with orders; and, with the orders from Australia, I found that I had a greater demand that I could meet. Almost every boat that came to Singapore from the districts where animals were captured brought specimens, and I was continually pressing my agents to send more. I traveled constantly throughout the Archipelago, urging the natives to work faster and keeping in touch with the source of my supply. As I have said before, I made few excursions into the jungle, and then only when it was impossible for my agents, who were generally headmen, to leave their kampongs and come to the coast.
Trengganu, with its jungles full of animals, was my favorite territory. I had the valuable privilege of being practically the only white man who could enter that country. In it I passed so much of my time that I finally had a house built there for me. My presence speeded the work of capturing, though I took no part in it except to talk with the headmen when they came to the coast. The Sultan gave me unlimited power in handling the natives, and no native who worked for me ever had cause to complain.
Nor had the Sultan himself; for I often found ways of helping him when the treasury was at low ebb. He looked to me to bring him news of the outside world and to interpret the news for him in terms that were understandable. Several hours of each day I spent at the palace, in discussing the affairs of the country with the Sultan and his Prime Minister, Mahommed Yusuf. Yusuf was a tunku besar (big prince) and was formerly the Sultan of Lingga. He was driven from his country by the Dutch and had sought refuge with his brother, the Sultan of Trengganu. There he lived as an object lesson of what might happen if Europeans were allowed to come into the country.
It was inevitable that Trengganu should eventually be taken over by the British, but the Sultan fought the idea at every turn. He could see in such a possibility nothing but ruin for himself, and he was determined to hold out as long as he lived. In our long talks we discussed every phase of his situation, and I pointed out to him that other sultans had prospered under the British. He was interested in that fact and asked for more information. Finally, it was arranged that Sir Frank Swettenham, who was governor-general of the Straits Settlements, should make a visit to Trengganu. That was the entering wedge. A few years later, an agreement was reached by which the country became a British protectorate and the Sultan, a prosperous, though nominal, ruler; and the development of this virgin territory began.
As a reward for the advice and assistance I gave him, the Sultan, before Trengganu passed out of his control, made me a present of five different concessions of land, with all mineral and surface rights. Though the concessions, which totaled nine hundred square miles, were rich in tin, the Sultan advised me to let the tin stay where it was and plant rubber. I could see that I had reached the beginning of the end of my career as an animal dealer!
On my return to Singapore after one of my visits to Trengganu, I found a letter from Mr. La Souef, of Melbourne, asking me if I would make a special effort to get a rhinoceros for his zoölogical gardens. He had made the same request the year before, and I had had a standing order with my agents in Trengganu, but nothing had come of it. There was constant good-natured rivalry between Mr. La Souef and his son, who was director of the gardens at Perth, and, as I had provided the son with a rhinoceros, I wanted to do as much for the father. I wrote to him, saying that I should communicate with my agents and that, if they had nothing to report, I would go out myself and see what I could find for him. Accordingly, I sent Ali to Trengganu with the message, telling him to wait there until I arrived.
There seemed to be so little chance that the natives would capture a good specimen that, after attending to the business at the animal house, I gathered my kit and started northward. At Trengganu I found Ali and some of the headmen waiting for me. Just as I had expected, they had nothing to report. One of them said that he thought I could find a rhinoceros near Rawang.
"Why do you think so?"
"Tûan," he replied, "there are traces."
"But why haven't your men been digging pits and capturing it?"
He made some reply to the effect that his men were busy planting rice, and I let the matter drop, for I saw that he was unwilling to talk. After the headman had left the house, I questioned Ali. While waiting for me, Ali had drawn the headman out on the subject. It seemed that the natives of the headman's kampong were reluctant to go out hunting the rhinoceros because they had seen the tracks, not only of the beast they were after, but also of beasts they wanted to avoid—a pair of seladangs.
I could understand, then, why they were not anxious to go out rhinoceros hunting, armed with nothing but their knives and muzzle-loading guns; for the seladang is, to my mind, the most dangerous animal on earth. It is the largest and fiercest of all wild cattle; its sense of smell and its vision are keen, and it charges with terrific speed. Except for one baby seladang that died before it reached a menagerie, not one has ever been captured alive. A number have been killed and mounted and are to be found in museums.
In meeting seladangs a hunter needs all his skill and courage. They charge without an instant's warning, breaking through the jungle at incredible speed. Unlike most animals, they do not try to protect themselves by defensive methods, holding the charge until they are cornered; they are instantly on the defensive. The hunter becomes just as much hunted as his quarry; each tries to attack by surprise. It is vitally important in running down seladangs for the hunter to keep his feet clear of vines and creepers, so that he can be free to jump; and also to keep his eye on a tree, which will provide refuge in case he needs it. The only possible way for a hunter to escape the direct charge of a seladang is to fall flat and let it run over him; its neck is so short that, when he is prostrate, it cannot reach him with its horns. Then, if the hoofs have not knocked him unconscious or broken his bones, he can jump up, before the seladang can check itself, and run for a tree. For the man once caught on the beast's horns, there is no escape; it tosses a victim time after time and then tramples him.
I had never met a seladang—and I must admit that I was not especially anxious to meet one—but I had no doubt of my ability to handle it if the emergency arose, and so I determined to go to Rawang for the rhinoceros. I had confidence in my express rifle and I knew that the natives would not refuse to accompany me. It would be useless to force them, of course, for they would be constantly on the verge of a panic. I sent Ali to talk with the headman and bring him to my house.
That afternoon a large part of the village across the river from my house burned to the ground. While I was sitting on my veranda, waiting for Ali to return with the headman, I saw smoke arising from one of the houses in the Chinese section. A moment later, flames appeared, the alarm was given and the village was in an uproar. The flames leaped from house to house, running down the principal street, where all the godowns were located. I went across the river to watch the excitement and see what I could do to help. The natives were wild: rushing about, falling over one another and going crazy. I stood at one side, quite out of the way, for a native in such a condition is a dangerous person; the least word may send him amok and start him slashing with hiskris. Not one native thought about the safety of his women and children. On the contrary, he pushed women and children out of the way and walked on them in the excitement of rescuing the one possession that a Malay values—his kris. Men dashed into burning houses and emerged triumphantly, scorched but waving their krises over their heads.
One of the tunkus managed to organize in the midst of the turmoil, what passed as a water-chain. The natives grabbed buckets and ran to the river, returning at full speed, waving their buckets and getting in one another's way. I doubt if a single bucket reached the fire with more than a cupful of water in it. It was so funny that I had to hide where no one could see me laughing. I heard later that the old Sultan laughed until he was weak.
He feared only that the wind might change and bring the fire on his palace; and he sent Mahommed Yusuf to find me and ask my advice. Yusuf and I decided that, if the wind showed any signs of changing, it would be best to tear down some of the village, to make a protecting strip. I went back across the river to my house for dynamite to aid in the work of demolition. However, the wind did not change, and, in exactly a hundred minutes after I saw the first smoke, the fire had run its course.
In that time, a hundred and twenty-five houses had burned to the ground, but no lives had been lost. And so it was not a serious calamity, since house-building in that section of the country is a simple matter. The Malays thought it a great joke that the stores that were destroyed belonged to the Chinese; for the Chinese were always cheating them. By the time evening came, it was as if the fire had been arranged to give the population an exciting and amusing holiday.
That night, Ali, after indulging in some eloquence on the subject of my express rifle, brought the headman to me. Until late, we three sat on the veranda of my house, talking about the rhinoceros hunt and the chances of encountering a seladang. At last the headman said that he would think about the matter and give me his answer the next day.
I spent the morning with the Sultan, who was still laughing about the water-chain at the fire, and I returned to my house early in the afternoon. The headman and Ali were waiting for me. It was decided without further delay that we should go to Rawang to capture the rhinoceros.
The natives at the headman's kampong were not over-anxious to take part in the hunt, and we spent several days there, waiting for them to make up their minds. It was useless to urge them, and to force them, as I had the power to do, would have been out of the question. It was a matter of waiting and working up their enthusiasm. Ali talked with them, cleaning my rifle and telling them about the "magic" I had performed. Then, after they showed signs of being properly impressed, I took my gun and began shooting explosive bullets into the trunks of trees. They stood about, wide-eyed, watching the bullets tear great holes in the trees. One evening, two days after our arrival at the kampong, the headman came with the word that his men had decided that they would like to go rhinoceros-hunting with me. "But I can take only ten," I replied. "I want you to come and I will let you select nine others—your best men." Now that the desire to go rhinoceros-hunting was alive in the village, I knew that the selection of nine men would make rivalry keen, and that those who were selected would be proud to go.
Shortly after dawn the next morning we left the kampong and struck out toward the spot where the rhinoceros had been located. We kept up a good pace during the day, following the trails through the jungle and cutting our path. Three days later we came upon signs of the rhinoceros and began tracking the spoor.
At sundown, as we were approaching an opening where we intended to make camp, we heard a crash in the jungle. "Seladangs!" screamed the Malays.
The men dropped everything and jumped for the trees just as two seladangs came charging down upon us. Ali, who was carrying my rifle and who had become separated from me when the men rushed for the trees, started toward me. Gauging the distance, I saw that he could not make it and I yelled to him to save himself. I jumped backward and made for a tree; then, as I pulled myself up, I saw the bull seladang catch Ali on his horns and toss him. I dropped to the ground again, horrified; I wanted to get my rifle and I forgot about the other animal.
The cow seladang charged, and I barely had time to get behind the tree. Unconsciously I had drawn myparang, and, as the great chocolate-colored colored beast plunged past me, I slashed. The blade hamstrung her, and she plunged, bellowing, into the jungle. Then the bull, instead of catching Ali's body on his horns, allowed it to fall to the ground and turned toward me. I swung up into the branches of the tree, just out of his reach, and slashed downward as he charged. I failed to hit him and I narrowly escaped falling.
We could hear the cow bellowing furiously and dragging herself away through the jungle. She did not return. The bull charged back again and stood beneath me, pawing the ground and bellowing. Then he turned and attacked Ali's body, trampling upon it, time after time, until every bone was broken.
Each time the bull returned to the tree, I fired downward at him with my revolver, but I might just as well have used a pop-gun—the little bullets had no effect. One dynamite cartridge would have ended him, but my rifle lay on the ground five yards away. Night came on, but the seladang did not leave. I remained poised throughout the night, waiting for a chance to jump down and run for the rifle. Our thirst became terrible, and there was little consolation in the thought that the seladang was probably quite as thirsty as we were. But there was some chance that he would leave us for a few moments to find water, and I needed only a moment to get the rifle and climb back into my tree.
Ants and mosquitoes swarmed over us. Trying to find some protection against them, we wrapped our hands and faces insârongs. But we were as helpless against insects as against seladangs.
Morning came and wore away to noon, and still the beast stayed by his post. Then the fever began to hit me and my head throbbed. I propped myself up against the trunk of the tree, saving all my strength until the moment when I should need it most.
Ali's body was unrecognizable; he had been gored repeatedly in the tossing and now he was simply a mass of torn, trampled flesh. The beast returned to it again and again to sniff and paw, and the sight made me weak and ill.
The ten natives were scattered through the trees near me and we talked back and forth. They, of course, depended upon me and my "magic" to save them, and I, with the fever burning more fiercely every minute, realized that something must be done immediately. My thirst was becoming unendurable and my strength was leaving me rapidly. I called to the men to join me in my tree, and they swung from limb to limb until we were together. The seladang took up his position beneath us, bellowing and pawing.
I counted the arms in the party; we had, besides our parangs, four spears and three krises. With the parangs we cut stout branches; then we tore our sârongs into strips and bound the krises to the poles. As was usual in the Archipelago, especially in the inland districts, the spears and krises were poisoned, and our only hope of victory lay in that fact. I knew that the poison would kill a man in a few minutes and I had seen smaller animals die of it, but I did not know what effect it would have on so large and powerful a brute as a seladang.
Next we gathered leaves and stuffed a sack, made from a sârong, full of them, and tied it with a string, so that we could dangle it in front of the beast. Then three of us armed with the krises took positions so that we should be above the seladang when he charged, and we lowered the sack. He snorted and drew back; then he put his strength into his legs and lunged forward. I drove downward with my kris, tearing a wound in his back near the hump; he whirled and charged again, and this time one of the natives blinded him in one eye.
He withdrew a few yards, snorting, bellowing and pawing. He turned again on the body of poor Ali, as if to vent his anger on it. Presently we lured him back with the bundle of leaves, and he charged again. I scored another cut near his hump.
"Then three of us armed with krises took positions so that we should be above the seladang when he charged, and we lowered the sack. He snorted and drew back.""Then three of us armed with krises took positions so that weshould be above the seladang when he charged, and we loweredthe sack. He snorted and drew back."
This charging and jabbing went on for fully an hour, and we seemed no nearer success than when we started. It was impossible to get in a death-stroke, and the poison apparently was having no effect upon him. In any event, I thought, we were winding him, and, if we could last out another night, he would have to seek water. But there was another danger—one of the natives, crazed by thirst and excitement, might run amok there in the tree. I planned, if we were forced to remain in the tree through the night, to take charge, diplomatically, of the krises and spears. I regretted having spent all the ammunition for my revolver on that useless fusillade the day before.
The game resolved itself into an attempt to pierce the seladang's sound eye; we lured him back, time after time, but could not drive a kris to the mark. Evening was approaching, and I thought the battle was over for the day. The seladang stood near by, ignoring, for the moment, the sack we were dangling. Blood was flowing from a dozen wounds. When he took a step forward, we cried out in surprise. He was weakening! He almost tottered away, as if he had forgotten about us.
Even though he had routed us completely, treed us and kept us treed and killed my good friend and assistant, Ali, I felt sorry for the beast, as I sat there watching him. He had put up a magnificent fight, and, half dead, he would muster his remaining strength and charge us again if we dared set foot on the ground. It was his victory until the moment he died.
His head drooped lower; then he went down on his fore knees, bellowing weakly. Presently his hind quarters slumped down, and blood began to flow from his mouth.
I dropped from the tree and walked forward cautiously to the spot where my rifle had fallen; then, armed, I stood watching him in the throes of death. None of the Malays had followed me, and, when I told them to come down, they refused. Finally, to convince them that there was no danger, I put a 50-110 explosive bullet behind the beast's shoulder.
We dug a grave for Ali and buried him; then we gathered our material and started back for the kampong. My fever was so bad that the medicine in my kit did me little good; for hours at a time, I was unconscious and had to be carried. At the kampong, I rested for several days, gathering strength to make the trip to the coast.
When I went to see the Sultan at Trengganu, before taking the boat to Singapore, he regarded me severely and said: "Tûan, why have I given you big concessions in land? Is it because I want you to go out and kill yourself in capturing animals?" He seemed satisfied when I told him that my days as an animal capturer were over, and that, after a trip home, I should return to Trengganu, to make my fortune in more peaceful ways.
At Singapore, I saw my doctor, who looked me over and told me that any more escapades in the jungle would be the last of me. He ordered me to leave the country at once and I took passage on a steamer sailing the next week.
Then I hurried off to Palembang, where I had spent my first months among the Malays. It was Ali's home, and I was in duty bound to take his kris back for him. The oldhadjireceived me affectionately and heard the story of his nephew's death.
"He died bravely, tûan?" he asked.
"Yes, and in the faith."
The hadji nodded; that was what he wanted to know—whether or not Ali died a good Mahommedan.
"On what day did he die, tûan?"
I could not remember what day it was, but I knew what the old man hoped and I answered, "Friday."
That meant that Ali was certain of Paradise.
I said good-by to the hadji and went back to Singapore to catch my boat. The fever was still racking my body, but, when I saw the Red Sea behind us once more, I knew that luck had been with me.