the tiger. In a moment the line was re-organised,
but the surprised tiger, finding itself surrounded by foes, turned
tail and ran down the bank of the river. The stream was nearly dry
and the bed was very shingly, and as the startled tiger picked its
way gingerly across the pebbles and pools of water it looked like a
stranded cat. It had not progressed very far when a well-directed shot
laid it low; and with this unexpected prize the party sat down to lunch
in excellent spirits. As rhino generally fight shy of elephants, they
did not think there was much use continuing the beat after lunch. So
they decided that they should make tracks for home and have general
shooting. General shooting means that there is no beating line. A
long straight line of march is formed, and each gun elephant is in
between the pad or beating elephants. The Maharajah was almost the
last gun in the line. Nearly all were out of the jungle when his keen
and practised eye noticed a small pad elephant jib at something as
they passed through a piece of jungle. "Did your elephant refuse to
come through?" he questioned the mahout of the small elephant. "Yes,
Maharajah, he smelt something in the jungle," the man replied. "Beat
this piece of jungle", the Maharajah quickly ordered the pad elephants
with him. They beat it and drove forth a rhino which fell dead to the
Maharajah's gun. Before His Highness had time to take up his other
rifle, a second galloped out of the jungle and charged straight at
the Maharajah's elephant. The elephant spun round to avoid the furious
onslaught and in the meantime the Maharajah managed to raise his gun
and, getting in his shot in spite of the gyrations of the elephant,
laid out rhino No. 2 in grand style to the applause of his companions.

Coming back to camp in the dusk one evening, the Maharajah, who had
wonderful eyesight, thought he saw a tiger lying still in an open
field. He raised his gun and whispered to his mahout. As they came
nearer, the tiger--for tiger it was--raised itself to its feet and
prepared to spring at the elephant. Too late! Snap went the Maharajah's
trigger and the royal beast lay dead.

These are but a few of the shooting adventures of a sportsman-Maharajah
who has gone on the long journey from life to the greater life beyond,
but whose memory lives in the annals of Bengal as a keen and successful
shot.

THE END

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Bengal Dacoits and Tigers