side what he thought a dead tiger,
had rolled him over, and, tape in hand, was about to measure the
animal, when he staggered to his feet with a terrific growl, and made
away through the jungle. He had only been stunned, and fortunately
preferred running to fighting, or the consequences might have been
more tragic; as it was, he was quickly followed up and killed. But
instances like these might be indefinitely multiplied, all teaching,
that seemingly dead tigers should be approached with the utmost
respect. Never venture off your elephant without a loaded revolver.

In beating for tiger, we have seen that the appearance of the kill,
whether fresh or old, whether much torn and mangled or comparatively
untouched, often affords valuable indications to the sportsman. The
footprints are not less narrowly looked for, and scrutinized. If we
are after tiger, and following them up, the captain will generally get
down at any bare place, such as a dry nullah, the edge of a tank or
water hole, or any other spot where footprints can be detected. Fresh
prints can be very easily distinguished. The impression is like that
made by a dog, only much larger, and the marks of the claws are not
visible. The largest footprint I have heard of was measured by George
S., and was found to be eight and a quarter inches wide from the
outside of the first to the outside of the fourth toe. If a tiger has
passed very recently, the prints will be fresh-looking, and if on damp
ground there can be no mistaking them. If it has been raining
recently, we particularly notice whether the rain has obliterated the
track at all, in any place; which would lead us to the conclusion that
the tiger had passed before it rained. If the water has lodged in the
footprint, the tiger has passed after the shower. In fresh prints the
water will be slightly puddly or muddy. In old prints it will be quite
clear; and so on.

The call of the male tiger is quite different from that of the female.
The male calls with a hoarse harsh cry, something between the grunt of
a pig and the bellow of a bull; the call of the tigress is more like
the prolonged mew of a cat much intensified. During the pairing season
the call is sharper and shorter, and ends in a sudden break. At that
time, too, they cry at more frequent intervals. The roar of the tiger
is quite unlike the call. Once heard it is not easily forgotten, The
natives who live in the jungles can tell one tiger from another by
col