The march was a longer one
than it had been, on the previous morning. A notorious man-eating
tiger was known to have taken up his abode, in a large patch of
jungle, at the foot of an almost perpendicular wall of rock, about ten
miles from the place where the camp was pitched. The patch of jungle
stood upon a steep terrace, whose slopes were formed of boulders, the
patch being some fifty or sixty yards long and thirty deep.
"It is a nasty place," Ramajee Punt said, "to get him from. The
beaters cannot get behind to drive him out, and the jungle is too
thick to penetrate."
"How do you intend to proceed?" Charlie asked.
"We will send a party to the top of the hill, and they will throw down
crackers. We have brought some rockets, too, which we will send in
from the other side. We will take our places, on our elephants, at the
foot of the terrace."
The three elephants took their posts, at the foot of the boulder
covered rise. As soon as they had done so, the men at the top of the
rock began to throw down numbers of lighted crackers; while, from
either side, parties sent rockets whizzing into the jungle.
For some time the tiger showed no signs of his presence, and Charlie
began to doubt whether he could be really there.
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