rel="nofollow" href="#ulink_24ef4e45-de39-5bd0-9e66-17e1e6274a5a">Table of Contents
A Night Marauder.
Ossaroo soon stripped the stag of its skin, cut the carcass into quarters, and hung them on the limb of a tree. Although the party had already supped, the excitement which had been occasioned by the incident gave them a fresh appetite; and venison-steaks were broiled over the oak-wood cinders, and eaten with a relish. These were washed down by fresh draughts of the delicious palm-wine; and then the travellers, having gathered some of the hanging moss, “Usnea,” and strewed it near the fire, rolled themselves in their blankets, and went to sleep.
About midnight there was a camp alarm. The sleepers were awakened by the dog Fritz; who, by his angry baying and fierce demonstrations, showed that some creature must have approached the fire that had no business to be there. On rousing themselves they thought they heard footsteps at a little distance, and a low growl as of some wild beast; but it was not easy to distinguish any sound in particular, as at this season the tropical forest is full of noises—so loud that it is often difficult for persons to hear each other in conversation. What with the chirruping of cicadas, the croaking of swamp-frogs, the tinkling of tree-toads, and the hooting and screeching of owls and night-hawks, the Indian forest is filled with a deafening din throughout the whole night.
Fritz ceased barking after a time; and they all went to sleep again, and slept till morning.
As soon as day broke, they were up, and set about preparing breakfast. Fresh fagots were piled upon the fire, and preparations made for a savoury roast of venison rib. Ossaroo climbed up to his tap, while Caspar went for the meat.
The quarters of the deer had been suspended upon a tree, at the distance of about fifty paces from the camp-fire. The reason of their being hung at such a distance was that a stream flowed there, and in order to clean the meat, they had carried it down to the water’s edge. A horizontal branch, which was about the proper height from the ground, had tempted Ossaroo, and he had chosen it for his “meat-rack.”
An exclamation from Caspar now summoned the others to the spot.
“See!” cried he, as they came up, “one of the quarters gone!”
“Ha! there have been thieves!” said Karl. “That was what caused Fritz to bark.”
“Thieves!” ejaculated Caspar. “Not men thieves! They would have carried off the four quarters instead of one. Some wild beast has been the thief!”
“Yes, Sahib, you speakee true,” said the shikarree, who had now reached the spot; “he wild beast—he very wild beast—big tiger!”
At the mention of the name of this terrible animal, both boys started, and looked anxiously around. Even Ossaroo himself exhibited symptoms of fear. To think they had been sleeping on the open ground so close to a tiger—the most savage and dreaded of all beasts—and this, too, in India, where they were constantly hearing tales of the ravages committed by these animals!
“You think it was a tiger?” said the botanist, interrupting Ossaroo.
“Sure, Sahib—lookee here!—Sahib, see him track!”
The shikarree pointed to some tracks in the selvedge of sand that lined the bank of the rivulet. There, sure enough, were the foot-prints of a large animal; and, upon inspecting them closely, they could easily be distinguished as those of a creature of the cat tribe. There were the pads or cushions smoothly imprinted in the sand, and the slight impression of the claws—for the tiger, although possessed of very long and sharp claws, can retract these when walking, so as to leave very little mark of them in the mud or sand. The tracks were too large to be mistaken for those either of a leopard or panther, and the only other animal to which they could appertain was the lion. There were lions in that district. But Ossaroo well knew how to distinguish between the tracks of the two great carnivora, and without a moment’s hesitation he pronounced the robber to have been a tiger.
It now became a matter of serious consideration what they should do under the circumstances. Should they abandon their camp, and move forward? Karl was very desirous of spending a day or two in the neighbourhood. He made no doubt of being able to find several new species of plants there. But with the knowledge of having such a neighbour they would not sleep very soundly. The tiger would, no doubt, return to the camp. He was not likely to stay away from a quarter where he had found such hospitable entertainment—such a good supper. He must have seen the rest of the venison, and would be sure to pay them another visit on the following night. True, they might kindle large fires, and frighten him off from their sleeping place; still, they would be under an unpleasant apprehension; and even during the day they had no confidence that he might not attack them—particularly if they went botanising in the woods. The very places into which their occupation would lead them, would be those in which they were most likely to meet this dreaded neighbour. Perhaps, therefore, it would be best to pack up, and proceed on their journey.
While eating their breakfasts the thing was debated among them. Caspar, full of hunter-spirit, was desirous of having a peep at the tiger anyhow; but Karl was more prudent, if not a little more timid, and thought it was better to “move on.” This was the opinion of the botanist; but he at length gave way to Caspar, and more particularly to Ossaroo, who proposed killing the tiger if they would only remain one night longer upon the ground.
“What! with your bow, Ossaroo?” asked Caspar; “with your poisoned arrows?”
“No, young Sahib,” replied Ossaroo.
“I thought you would have but little chance to kill a great tiger with such weapons. How do you mean to do it then?”
“If Sahib Karl consent to stay till to-morrow, Ossaroo show you—he kill tiger—he catch ’im ’live.”
“Catch him alive!—In a trap?—In a snare?”
“No trapee—no snaree. You see. Ossaroo do what he say—he take tiger ’live.”
Ossaroo had evidently some plan of his own, and the others became curious to know what it was. As the shikarree promised that it was unattended with danger, the botanist consented to remain, and let the trial be made.
Ossaroo now let them into the secret of his plan; and as soon as they had finished eating their breakfasts, all hands set to work to assist him in carrying it into execution.
They proceeded as follows. In the first place, a large number of joints of bamboo were obtained from a neighbouring thicket of these canes. The bark of the banyan was then cut, and the canes inserted in such a manner that the white milky sap ran into them. Each joint was left closed at the bottom, and served as a vessel to collect the juice, and such stems of the fig only were tapped as were young and full of sap. As soon as a sufficient quantity of the fluid had been distilled into the canes, the contents of all were poured into the cooking-pot, and hung over a slow fire. The sap was then stirred—fresh juice being occasionally thrown in—and in a short while the whole attained the toughness and consistency of the best birdlime. It was, in fact, true birdlime—the same that is used by the bird-catchers of India, and quite equal to that manufactured from the holly.
During the time that this was being prepared, Karl and Caspar, by the directions of Ossaroo, had climbed into the trees, and collected an immense quantity of leaves. These leaves were also taken from the banyan figs, and for this purpose they had selected those that grew on the youngest trees and shoots. Each leaf was as large as a tea-plate, and they were covered with a
