CHAPTER III.

THE CAT FAMILY--THE TIGER AND THE LEOPARD.

THE TIGER--Its Colour, Size, &c.--Geographical Distribution--Mention of the Tiger by Ancient Writers--Habits of the Tiger--Its Destructiveness--Native Superstitions--Tiger-hunting--THE LEOPARD--Historical Account--External Characters--Size--Geographical Distribution--Varieties--Habits--Love of Dog-meat--Clay-eating Propensities--Attracted by Small-pox Patients.

THE TIGER.[15]

As the Lion is king of beasts in Central Africa, so the Tiger reigns supreme on a large portion of Southern Asia, where it is the most dreaded foe of the native, and the noblest game of the English sportsman. Its great size, its wonderful activity and strength, its glorious colouring, make it, in many respects, the most striking of all the great Carnivora. The marvellous symmetry of its form, making it almost to much a “line of beauty in perpetual motion” as the Greyhound; the flame-like bands of orange-yellow, with interspersed black shadows, winding over its lithe sides and terrible countenance; the ferocity of its disposition, and its seeming uselessness for anything but destruction, have been the theme of one of the weirdest, most wonderful melodies of the artist-poet Blake, who sings of it thus:--

“Tiger, tiger, burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

“In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What dread hand dare seize the fire?

“And what shoulder, and what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? and what dread feet?

“What the hammer? What the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? What dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

“When the stars threw down their spears, And water’d heaven with their tears, Did He smile His work to see? Did He who made the lamb make thee?

“Tiger, tiger, burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?”

A recent writer[16] is very anxious to depose the Lion from the post of honour usually assigned to him, that the “Royal Tiger” may reign in his stead. And, although Englishmen will never feel quite happy to see the “Emperor of India” put even on an equality with the “British Lion,” we can hardly help thinking that an unprejudiced person would consider the flowing mane and tufted tail of the Lion more than counterbalanced by the brilliant colour, more perfect form, and superior size of the Tiger.

The anatomical characters are so similar to those of the other Cats, that it is needless to dwell upon them; they are, indeed, for the most part so exactly like those of the Lion, that even the illustrious Cuvier is said to have been completely worsted in an attempt to separate the mingled bones of the two species. In the skull, however, the muzzle is shorter than in the Lion, and forms a bolder curve with the forehead, a character very well seen in the living animal, and making the Tiger’s face much rounder, and more like that of the Domestic Cat than the Lion’s. In the skeleton, as in that of other Cats, the flexibility of the spinal column is very noticeable, as also is the arrangement of the limb bones, especially those of the hind limb, which are so disposed as to form a sort of double C-spring. (See the figure of the Lion’s skeleton on p. 5.) When a Tiger leaps, he first crouches down, bending the backbone into a strong downward curve by means of the great muscles which lie beneath it, at the same time contracting the flexor muscles of the limbs, more particularly of the hind limbs, so as to make their three divisions--thigh, leg, and foot--set at an acute angle to one another. He then brings into play the immense extensor muscles, which are especially well developed in all leaping animals, the back and limbs are straightened, and the animal, weighty as it is, its projected forwards with immense force.

The pupil of the eye is round. The tail is long, and devoid of a terminal tuft, and there is no mane like the Lion’s, although the cheeks bear large whisker-like tufts of stiff hairs. Similar bristles occur on the chin, lips, and eyebrows, those on the cheek being especially large, and constituting the sensitive _vibrissæ_ which are so noticeable in most Cats, as well as in many other animals. All these hirsute appendages are capable of being erected when the animal is angry. For this purpose the bulb-like ends of them, which are imbedded in the skin, are covered with slips of muscular fibre from the great cutaneous muscle--that by which quadrupeds are enabled to “shiver” their skins--and these hair muscles are provided with an abundant supply of nerves. When the muscles contract, they make the hairs “stand on end,” producing a sort of magnified “goose-skin.” The vibrissæ are especially sensitive, and are of great assistance to the Tiger as he makes his way through the jungle in the dark.

The great distinctive character is, of course, the colour. Of this, and of the main points of difference between the two sexes, Sir J. Fayrer writes as follows:--“The colour of a full-grown Tiger in good health is exceedingly beautiful. The ground is of a rufous or tawny-yellow, shaded into white on the ventral surface. This is varied with vertical black stripes, or elongated ovals or brindlings. On the face and on the back of the ears the white markings are peculiarly well defined, and present an appearance as remarkable as beautiful. The depth of shade of the ground colour, and the intensity of the black markings, vary according to the age and condition of the animal. In old Tigers the ground becomes more tawny, of a lighter shade, and the black markings better defined. The young are more dusky in the ground colouring than the middle-aged or old Tigers. The depth of colour is also affected by locality and climate. Those found in forests are often of a deeper shade than Tigers found in more open localities. It is said that in more northern latitudes they are of a lighter colour, almost white. The circular white patches on the back of the ears, and the white and black about the face, are very conspicuous in the Tiger, rushing through the grass or jungle when disturbed. Brilliant as is the general colour, it is remarkable how well it harmonises with the grass or bush among which he prowls, and for which, indeed, until his charge, and the short deep growls or barkings which accompany it, reveal his presence, he may be mistaken. The Tigress differs from the Tiger; the head, as well as the whole body, is smaller and narrower. The neck is lighter, and is devoid of any crest, which, though very much smaller than the voluminous mane of the Lion, undoubtedly exists in large and old males. The Tigress is lither, more active, and when accompanied by her offspring, far more savage and bloodthirsty than the male; she will then attack, even when unprovoked; and in defence of her young, of which she is proverbially fond, is as courageous as she is vicious. Most of the accidents that have befallen sportsmen and others who have encountered these animals have been due to Tigresses. I have seen a Tigress, accompanied by her young, charge, unprovoked, a line of Elephants, and inflict severe injuries before she was despatched. The only well-authenticated case in which a sportsman was taken out of a houdah was one in which a Tigress, in one bound, reached the sportsman, her hind feet resting on the Elephant’s head, the fore feet on the rail of the houdah. The occupant, who had mortally wounded her as she sprang, was seized, and, after a short struggle, dragged or thrown to the ground. The Tigress then received another bullet, and died where she fell; the sportsman, severely wounded, was carried into camp, and slowly recovered.”

As to the size of adult animals, the same author has the following remarks:--

“It is generally admitted that the Tiger attains the greatest size in India, and there can be no doubt that he is really the largest of the existing _Felidæ_.... The size of the Tiger varies; some individuals attain great bulk and weight, though they are shorter than others which are of a slighter and more elongated form. The statements as to the length they attain are conflicting and often exaggerated; errors are apt to arise from measurements taken from the skin after it is stretched, when it may be ten or twelve inches longer than before removal from the body. The Tiger should be measured from the nose along the spine to the tip of the tail as he lies dead on the spot where he fell before the skin is removed. One that is ten feet by this measurement is large, and the full-grown male does not often exceed this, though no doubt larger individuals (males) are occasionally seen, and I have been informed by Indian sportsmen of reliability that they have seen and killed Tigers over twelve feet in length. The full-grown male Indian Tiger, therefore, may be said to be from nine to twelve feet, or twelve feet two inches, the Tigress from eight to ten, or perhaps, in very rare instances, eleven feet in length, the height being from three to three and a half, or, very rarely, four feet at the shoulder. But we must look with doubt on Buffon’s statement that one had attained a length of fifteen feet; and with even greater hesitation can we accept the recorded statement that Hyder Ally presented a Tiger to the Nawab of Arcot that measured eighteen feet.”

The Tiger is entirely confined to Asia, where its range is very wide, extending from the Caspian to the Sea of Okhotsk, and from latitude 50° southwards. It has been found in the Elburz Mountains, Bokhara, China, Malaysia, Sumatra, Borneo, Java, and Bali. It is known about Ceylon and from the great tableland of Tibet. Its head-quarters are North India, where great numbers are killed annually. From what has been said, it will be evident that the Tiger is by no means, as one is very apt to imagine, an altogether tropical animal; the Caucasus, the western limit of its range, is far from being a warm region, and its eastern limit, the island of Saghalien, is as far north as Kamtchatka. It has been found also at a height of 8,000 feet above sea-level. It is an interesting circumstance that the Tigers found amongst the snows of Mantchuria and Corea have the “body covered with long softish hairs,” and a shaggy ruff round the neck. Thus, as is so constantly the case, a definite variety is produced solely by the action of surrounding conditions. Certain Tigers find it advantageous to live farther north than the generality of their kind, so as to have a freer field for their depredations than would be afforded to them by the more southern districts, and, to suit themselves to the vigorous climate, acquire long warm fur, such as would be quite out of place on the back of a denizen of the Bengal jungles.

It is a somewhat remarkable circumstance, considering the nearness of Palestine to the Caucasus and Elburz Mountains, that the Tiger is not once mentioned in the Bible. It was, however, well known to the Greeks and Romans, and, like the Lion, was a regular performer at the amphitheatre. The district called Hyrcania, a tract of land lying to the south-east of the Caspian Sea, seems to have been the most noted spot for Tigers. In the “Æneid,” Dido, in her magnificent declamation against the perfidy of Æneas, is made to say--

“Nec tibi Diva parens, genius nec Dardanus auctor, Perfide, sed duris genuit te cautibus horrens Caucasus, _Hyrcanæque_ admôrunt ubera tigres.”

“(Perfidious monster! boast thy birth no more; No hero got thee, and no goddess bore: No! thou wert brought by Scythian rocks to day, By Tigers nurs’d and savages of prey.)”

and Shakspere uses the same expression:--

“The rugged Pyrrhus, like the _Hyrcanian_ beast.”

In disposition the Tiger differs but little from the other wild _Felidæ_. Although possessed of such immense strength and ferocity, he often shows himself a very coward. Like most animals he scarcely ever attacks an armed man unless provoked, that is, unless he (or she) be a confirmed “man-eater,” although often seizing upon women and children. He shares with our Domestic Cat a love of cruelty for its own sake. The author of “Rambles in the Mirzapore District” says of this essentially feline character:--“It is sometimes an interesting sight to witness the demeanour of a Tiger towards his terrified prey (_i.e._, when a victim is tied up for him, and the sportsman waits to shoot him in the tree above it). When not raging with hunger, he appears to derive the same pleasure from playing with his victim as a Cat in tormenting a Mouse. He gambols around the Buffalo as if enjoying his alarm; and when the affrighted animal, in mad despair, feebly attempts to butt at his remorseless foe, the Tiger bounds lightly over his head, and recommences his gambols at the other side. At last, as if he had succeeded in creating an appetite for dinner, he crushes the skull of his victim with one blow of his powerful fore-paw, and soon commences his bloody meal.”

Another point in which the Tiger resembles the Cat is the devotion of the female to her offspring, and the remarkably lively and skittish disposition of the “kittens,” of which from two to five are usually produced at a birth. These are at first about half the size of our Domestic Cat. The mother goes with young about 105 days, the breeding season being in the early part of the year, but varying slightly according to locality. She is a most affectionate and attached mother, and generally guards and trains her young with the most watchful solicitude. They remain with her until nearly full grown, or about the second year, when they are able to cater for themselves. Whilst they remain with her she is peculiarly vicious and aggressive, defending them with the greatest courage and energy, and when robbed of them is terrible in her rage; she has nevertheless been known to desert them when pressed, and even to eat them when starved.

As soon as they begin to require other food than her milk she kills for them, and teaches them to do so for themselves by practising on small animals, such as Deer, and young Calves and Pigs. At these times she is wanton and extravagant in her cruelty, killing apparently for the gratification of her ferocious and bloodthirsty nature, and, perhaps, to excite and instruct the young ones, and it is not until they are thoroughly capable of providing their own food that she separates from them.

The young Tigers are far more destructive than the old. They will kill three or four Cows at a time, whilst the elder and more experienced rarely kill more than one, and this at intervals of from three or four days to a week. For this purpose the Tiger will leave its retreat in the dense jungle, proceed to the neighbourhood of a village, and during the night will steal towards the herds and strike down a Bullock, drag it into a secluded place, and then remain near the “murrie,” or kill, for several days, until it has eaten it, when it will proceed in search of a further supply. When it has once found good hunting-ground in the vicinity of a village, it continues its ravages, destroying one or two Cows or Buffaloes a week. It is very fond of the ordinary domestic cattle which, in the plains of India, are generally weak, half-starved, under-sized creatures. One of these is easily struck down and carried or dragged off. The smaller Buffaloes are also easily disposed of, but the Buffalo Bulls, and especially the wild ones, are formidable antagonists, and have often been known to beat the Tiger off, and even to wound him seriously with their horns.

Some notion of the fearful damages committed by Tigers in India will be gained from the following extract:--“Cattle killed in my district are numberless. As regards human beings, one Tiger in 1867-8-9, killed, respectively, twenty-seven, thirty-four, forty-seven people. I have known it attack a party and kill four or five at a time. Once it killed a father, mother, and three children; and the week before it was shot it killed seven people. It wandered over a tract of twenty miles, never remaining in the same spot two consecutive days, and at last was destroyed by a bullet from a spring gun, when returning to feed on the body of one of its victims--a woman. At Nynee Tal, in Kumaon, in 1856-7-8, there was a Tiger that prowled about within a circle, say, of twenty miles, and it killed, on an average, about eighty men per annum. The haunts were well known at all seasons.... This Tiger was afterwards shot while devouring the body of an aged person it had killed.” It is also stated in a Government report that “in one instance, in the Central Provinces, a single Tigress caused the desertion of thirteen villages, and two hundred and fifty square miles of country were thrown out of cultivation. This state of things would, undoubtedly, have continued, but for the timely arrival of a gentleman who, happily, was fortunate enough, with the aid of his gun, to put an end to her eventful career.” Again, it is reported, “that one Tigress, in 1869, killed 127 people, and stopped a public road for many weeks, and was finally killed by the opportune arrival of an English sportsman.”

As might naturally be expected, an enemy so dreadful is sure to have supernatural power ascribed to it by the credulous natives, whose property is destroyed, and whose lives are endangered by the ravages of this terrible beast. People in the state of civilisation of the ordinary Indian villages are sure to think there is something more than natural in an animal capable of such wholesale destruction, so wantonly cruel, of such fearful strength and such terrible beauty; and the following passages will give some idea of the prowess ascribed to the Tiger by those who are the greatest sufferers from his bloody disposition:--

“The natives of India, especially the Hindoos, hold the Tiger, as they do the Cobra, in superstitious awe. Many would not kill him if they could, for they fear that he will haunt them or do them mischief after death. Some they regard as being the tenement of a spirit, which not only renders them immortal, but confers increased powers of mischief. In many parts of India the peasants will hardly mention the Tiger by name. They either call him, as in Purneah, Giahur (Jackal), Janwar (the beast), or they will not name him at all; and it is the same in the case of the Wolf. But though they will not always themselves destroy him, they are quite willing that others should do so, for they will point out his whereabouts, and be present at his death; and the delight evinced thereat is intense, for it often relieves a whole village from an incubus of no slight weight, and saves the herdsman from his weekly loss of cattle. The conversation and remarks made by these villagers round the fallen Tiger are often very amusing and characteristic.

“All kinds of power and influence are ascribed to portions of him when dead; the fangs, the claws, the whiskers, are potent charms, medicines, love-philtres, or prophylactics against disease, the evil eye, or magic. They are in such demand that the natives _will_ take them; and we have known whiskers, claws, and even fangs, extracted and carried away during the night, even when the dead Tiger has been placed under the surveillance of a guard. The fat, also, is in great demand, for its many potent virtues in relieving rheumatism and other ailments. The liver, the heart, and the flesh are taken away and dried, to be eaten as tonics or invigorating remedies that give strength and courage. There is also a popular delusion that a new lobe is added to the liver every year of his life. A Tiger’s skin with its whiskers preserved is a rarity; you cannot keep them. The domestic, who would preserve any other valuable as a most sacred trust, will fail under this temptation! The whiskers, besides other wonderful powers, are said to possess that of being a slow poison when administered with the food. Such is the belief, which you may try in vain to disturb! The clavicles, too--little curved bones like tiny ribs--are also much valued; but they are generally lost or overlooked when the Tiger is cut up, lying buried in the powerful muscles near the shoulders.”

It is a very common opinion that the wounds made by a Tiger’s claw or teeth are poisonous, and consequently highly dangerous. It is, however, hardly necessary to state that the Tiger’s venom is of quite the same nature as that of the Frog and Newt, which so many country people believe in devoutly to this day. The huge jagged canines, and the carefully sharpened claws make wounds which are certainly ugly enough, but their danger arises merely from their depth, and from their liability to fester in a hot climate.

Of course Tiger-hunting is, _par excellence_, the “royal sport of India;” the game calling forth more courage and address from the sportsman than any other, and the “spice of danger” so necessary to the true sportsman being at its maximum. Usually, a hunt is made up of a considerable number of sportsmen, accompanied by a crowd of beaters. The Elephant upon which each hunter rides is provided with a houdah of light wood and basket work, and consisting of two compartments, a front one in which the sportsman himself sits, and a hinder one occupied by his servant, who is in readiness with spare guns. The driver, or mahout, sits on a cushion on the Elephant’s neck, armed with a pointed iron rod, or _gujbag_, to every touch of which the docile animal answers.

On arriving at a portion of the jungle where Tigers are known to exist, the sportsmen hold themselves in readiness with loaded rifles, while the beaters, on foot, encircle the jungle, and endeavour, with shouts and gesticulations, to drive the game from their lurking-place to the destruction which awaits them. As soon as a Tiger appears every piece is levelled at him, and, in many cases, he is despatched at once; but often he is either entirely missed, or only slightly wounded, and then he at once makes for the nearest Elephant, and often succeeds in making Elephant, or mahout, or even sportsman, feel his cruel teeth and claws, before the _coup de grace_ is given. A Tiger is at no time the easiest thing to kill; like its humble kinsman, the Cat, it has “nine lives” to part with, and these lives are much more tenacious than in the case of poor puss. A Tiger, holding on with tooth and claw to a writhing Elephant, in such a position that a mis-directed shot may kill man or Elephant instead of Tiger, is an extremely awkward beast indeed to deal with, and is often enabled to sell his life very dearly. When the day’s sport is over, the Tigers are either carried into camp on pad Elephants, or skinned where they lie; the natives possessing themselves of the flesh, and everything else of which they can lay hold.

The foregoing is the legitimate method of keeping down the Tiger race, but many others are employed. “They are snared in pitfalls and traps, shot by spring-guns and arrows, occasionally poisoned, and it is said that bird-lime has been used in their destruction. I have read of this, but know of no authenticated case in which it has been practised. The bird-lime, it is said, is spread on the fallen leaves; these adhering to the Tiger’s paws are soon plastered all over him, including his face and eyes. Blinded and stupefied by rage and fear, he falls an easy prey to the villagers, who then either shoot or stab him to death with spears. Another mode of effecting his death is to lay a bait, by tying up a Cow or Goat in some spot the Tiger is wont to frequent. Near this, on a machan, or on the branch of a tree, or from behind some extemporised screen, the shikarie waits his approach at night, and when the bait is seized takes aim, and often succeeds in destroying him, though it not unfrequently happens that in the uncertain light he misses altogether, or only wounds, in which case a second chance is seldom obtained.”

The perils of Tiger-hunting are great and varied. In the following instance related by Sir Joseph Fayrer a large comic element was introduced, although the fun is probably more striking to us to read of than it was to the hunter and his mahout who took part in it:--

“A rather curious Tiger-hunt, in which the Tiger seemed to think that he should have his share of the sport as well as the ‘shikarie,’ occurred some short time ago in the Dhoon. A gentleman, well known in Dehra, an enthusiastic though rather inexperienced sportsman, they say, went out about a month ago, into the Eastern Dhoon, for a day or two’s shooting. Arrived on the ground, he was seated in his houdah on the Elephant, looking out anxiously for game of some sort, when the mahout suddenly cried, ‘Shér, Sahib; burra, Shér!’ for a Tiger had made his appearance unexpectedly close to the Elephant. The gentleman hurriedly fired, and planted a ball from his rifle, not in the Tiger’s shoulder, but in his abdomen. This mistake must have been due to surprise at the Tiger’s sudden advent on the scene, and the consequently hurried shot; otherwise such a want of knowledge of anatomy as was evinced in seeking a vital spot in the abdomen would be unpardonable. The consequences of the mistake were serious; for the Tiger, resenting the sudden disturbance in the region where the remains of his last kill were peacefully reposing, charged the Elephant, and, by a spring, succeeded in planting his fore-paws on her head, while his hind legs clawed and scratched vigorously for a footing on her trunk.

“Imagine the feelings of the mahout, with a Tiger within six inches of his nose! the Elephant trumpeting, shaking, and rolling with rage and pain, till he was barely able to maintain his seat on her neck at all; and the occupant of the houdah, too, tumbled from top to bottom, and from side to side of it, as if he were a solitary pill in a pillbox too large for him. Of course, in this predicament, he was utterly unable to use his rifle to rid the Elephant of the unwelcome head-dress she was, perforce, wearing. The attempt to fire, in all that shaking, would probably have resulted in his blowing out the mahout’s brains instead of the Tiger’s, or in his shooting himself. Meanwhile the mahout, with the courage of despair, slipped out of the _gaddela_, or cushion, on which he sat, and, rolling it round his left arm, and taking the iron _gujbag_ in his right, assailed the Tiger manfully about the ears. But, being thick-headed, he did not seem to mind the _gujbag_ at all; for, after taking a bite at the Elephant’s forehead, he calmly continued his struggles for a footing on the reluctant and ever-dodging trunk, heedless of the rain of blows on his thick skull, and, no doubt, promising himself to square accounts presently by swallowing the mahout, _gujbag_, and all. But the Elephant was beginning to see that she couldn’t shake the Tiger off, so she tried another plan; and, making an extempore battering-ram of herself, with the Tiger as a buffer, she charged straight at a sal-tree, thinking to make a Tiger-pancake on the spot. But the sal-tree, alas! was a small one, and gave way under the shock, and away went tree, Tiger, and Elephant into an old and half filled-up _obi_, or Elephant pit, which happened to be conveniently placed to receive them just on the other side of the fallen tree. The Tiger and the mahout were both knocked off by the shock and fall; but the latter, luckily for himself, fell out of the pit, the former into it, under the Elephant. The Elephant now had her share of the sport, and gave the Tiger such a kicking while he lay under her, making a kind of shuttlecock of him between her fore and hind legs, that the breath must have been almost kicked out of him; then deeming she had done enough for honour and glory, and that she couldn’t eat the Tiger if she did kill him, she commenced climbing out of the pit, whose crumbled and sloping sides luckily made the scramble out practicable. The mahout, who had by this time picked himself and his scattered wits up, rushed round and caught her by the ear just as she reached the level, and was preparing for a bolt, and scrambling rapidly up to his perch on her neck, succeeded in stopping her and turning her face to the foe once more. The Elephant being now under command, our sportsman at length resumed his proper share in the proceedings, and the Tiger being still at the bottom of the pit, breathless, if not senseless, from the kicking he had undergone, by a well-directed shot put him finally _hors de combat_, and had the satisfaction of carrying him into the station in triumph, where his skin is preserved as a witness of this strange Tiger-hunt. The Elephant, though it got one nasty bite, and was badly scratched about the trunk and fore-legs, is now none the worse for its single combat with the monarch of the Indian forests.”

We mentioned above that the Tiger rarely attacks man unless provoked. When, however, he is hard pressed for a meal, he will often visit inhabited spots, and then is as likely to choose human as bovine food. Imagine the sensation likely to arise in a small village, inhabited only by a few unarmed, or at least but poorly armed men, with their wives and children, by such an occurrence as the following, related by an English traveller:--

“On the 11th of November of the same year I chanced to meet a Tiger myself. I was on the shore of the mainland opposite Amoy, in the afternoon, looking out for small birds, in company with a friend. I carried a gun, but had only small shot and one cartridge. Some villagers came running to us crying ‘Go and shoot the Tiger!’ I thought they were making game of us, until some of them assured us that there really was a Tiger in a neighbouring village, and that they would be much obliged if we would kill it. They led us to a village at the foot of a hill near the shore, where we found men, women, and children huddled outside in great alarm. Many of the men were armed with matchlocks. They desired us to take off our boots, and one of the men guided us over the roofs of the houses to the last house near the hill, and, pointing to a large rock, he made us listen. We could distinctly hear growls, and peering over I saw the lips and feet of the Tiger under the overhanging rock. The house on which we stood presented a wall facing the rock, and about two yards distant. We went inside, and I persuaded the owner to make a hole in the wall. I had no means of drawing the charge of my gun, so I rammed down a cartridge on the top of the small shot in one barrel, and a few hollow buttons into the other. In the hurry and excitement no bullets or iron nails were forthcoming. The Tiger noticed the hole in the wall, but only growled. I fired the button barrel first, aimed at its neck, but he only answered by a growl, and I saw that the buttons had done no more than turn up the skin without penetrating. His jaw was full towards me, and I gave him the cartridge right between his eyes. He gave a furious roar, and bounded into the garden, where he stood for some seconds bleeding from the nose, and with his tongue lolling from his mouth. I had no more cartridges with me, so I loaded again with the metal-edged buttons which the villagers tore off their coats for me. The Tiger had moved away, and I tracked him by his blood into a dilapidated temple. I looked in at the window, and there stretched beside a coffin sat the noble beast. He, turned his head and growled as he saw me, and, without a moment’s thought I raised the barrels and fired another shower of buttons in his face. I turned and fled; but a roar followed which I shall never forget, and I found myself, breathless, at the bottom of a precipice, with my gun upraised, expecting to see the angry creature upon me; but strange enough he did not follow. The villagers, who were assembled two hundred yards away, all ran when I ran; but seeing the Tiger did nut pursue, one of them came forward and put me on his knees, and patting me on the back, helped to bring back my breath, which I had lost by the fall. We crept up to the window again. Every one of the thick wooden bars had been knocked out by the force of the leap; but from the blood only splashing the outside of the window, it was evident the Tiger had not come out of the building. We looked in at the window, and just below, outstretched on the floor in a pool of blood, lay the Tiger. I threw up my hand and shouted to my friend, who watched the proceedings at a distance, that the Tiger was dead. At the noise, the Tiger raised his head and growled. He was a Cat, of course, and had the usual nine lives. I went to the villagers and proposed a joint attack, but they would not consent. Some of them ascended the hills behind and fired on to the roof of the house in which the Tiger was sheltered. It was getting dark, so breathless and hurt I took boat and returned to Amoy. A few hours after the Tiger is said to have moved away; but whether he died or recovered his wounds I could never satisfactorily learn, so contradictory were the stories told.”

Mr. Thomson recounts a tale of a planter in this province, who, returning home after a carouse, a little too much under the influence of Scotch whisky, was sorely bested by a Tiger. “It was rather dark, and verging on the small hours of morning when MacNab, mounting on his trusty steed, set his face towards home. Feeling at peace with all men, and even with the beasts of prey, he cantered along a road bordered with mangroves, admiring the fitful gleams of the fire-flies that were lighting their midnight lamps among the trees. But soon the road became darker, and Donald, the pony, pricked his ears uneasily as he turned into a jungle-path which led towards the stream. Donald snuffed the air, and soon redoubled his pace, with ears set close back, nostrils dilated, and bristling mane. Onward he sped, and at last the angry growl of a Tiger in full chase behind roused MacNab to the full peril of his position, and chilled his blood with the thought that his pursuer was fast gaining ground, and that at any moment he might feel the clutch of his hungry and relentless claws. Here was a dilemma, the cold creek before him, and the hot breath of the Tiger in the rear. A moment or two were gained by tossing his hat behind him, and then Donald cleared the streams at a bound. The Tiger lost his scent, and Mr. MacNab reached home in safety, by what he delighted to describe as a miraculous escape.”

To us, who “live at home at ease,” life would seem to be hardly bearable in a place when one is liable, any day, to meet with such an adventure as this--with every chance, too, of a less pleasant termination. But it is astonishing how indifferent to the presence of wild beasts the inhabitants of these countries become. Even Europeans soon acquire the same fearlessness, or, rather, apathy. Of this Mr. Thomson gives a striking illustration:--“In these sparse settlements of Malays and Chinese, Roman Catholic missionaries are at work. I once fell in with one of these priests, shod with straw sandals, and walking alone towards Bukit, Mer-tangrim (the pointed hill), to visit a sick convert who had a clearing upon the mountain-side. His path lay through a region infested with wild animals; and when I inquired if he had no dread of Tigers, he pointed to his Chinese umbrella, his only weapon, and assured me that with a similar instrument a friend of his had driven off the attack of a Tiger not very far from where we stood. But the nervous shock which followed that triumph had cost the courageous missionary his life.”

THE LEOPARD.[17]

The Leopard, or Panther, is undoubtedly the third in importance and interest of the great Cats. From a historical point of view it is more interesting than the Tiger, and would naturally come immediately after the Lion, but its size, ferocity, and beauty are so very inferior to the Tiger’s that it must needs yield to the glorious Bengalee. In the matter of beauty alone it is eclipsed by the Jaguar, but the fact of its having been known from very ancient times, and that of its occurrence in our own hemisphere, must decide us, in the absence of any important characters, anatomical or otherwise, to give it the precedence of its very nearly related American cousin.

The Leopard was the only one of the greater feline animals, except the Lion and Tiger, that seems to have been known to the ancients. It is always represented as drawing the chariot of Bacchus, and the forlorn Ariadne is sculptured as riding on one of the spotted steeds of her divine lover. The Panther was also constantly used in the barbarous sports of the amphitheatre, and, in common with the Lion and Tiger, has been both executioner and grave to many a bold-hearted martyr.

The Leopard’s skin was a favourite mantle in the olden times in Greece. In the “Iliad,” Homer, speaking of Menelaus, says--

“With a Pard’s spotted hide his shoulders broad He mantled o’er.”----

and the Leopard, or Panther, is given in the “Odyssey” as one of the forms assumed by Proteus, “the Ancient of the Deep.”

A curious ancient superstition about the Leopard is embodied in its name. It was thought not to be actually the same animal as the Panther or Pard, but to be a mongrel or hybrid between the male Pard and the Lioness: hence it was called the Lion-panther, or _Leopardus_. This error, as Archbishop Trench tells us, “has lasted into modern times; thus Fuller, ‘Leopards and Mules are properly no creatures.’” Another word-combination was made by the Romans when wishing to find a name for the Giraffe. It is “a creature combining, though with infinitely more grace, yet some of the height and even the proportions of a _Camel_, with the spotted skin of the _Pard_.” They called it “Camelopardus,” the Camel-panther.

Some authors give it as their opinion that the Leopard outshines all the great beasts of prey in beauty and elegance, and, indeed, called it _the_ Carnivore _par excellence_. Unfortunately, most English people have no means of forming a true opinion on a matter of this sort, as we see the animals only in menageries; but judging from the specimens we have seen in confinement, we should incline to the belief that it is far behind both the Lion and Tiger, and is even beaten by the Jaguar in the matter of colouring, although the surly look of the latter makes him, on the whole, a far less attractive beast. The adult Leopard in the London Zoological Gardens is perhaps the clumsiest brute in the whole Lion-house--fat, bull-necked, and stupid-looking. Stupid-looking, and even clumsy, that is, when lying lazily asleep on the floor of his den; but watch him when four o’clock comes, and the meat-barrow goes round, and then where will you find more marvellous agility? All the Cats are alike in this; they are very lazy at times, but when they _do_ begin to move, there is no more complete example of perfectly graceful movement, and one feels as if he could watch them “on and off for days and days,” as Alice’s frog-footman puts it.

The characters of the hide are so characteristic that they must be given in some detail, especially as the spots must be distinguished from those of the Jaguar, the great spotted Cat of the New World. The skin is described as follows:--“On an orange-yellow ground, passing below into white, are spots of deep or brownish-black, sometimes distinct, sometimes composed of two, three, or even four points disposed in a circle, and surrounding a space, always somewhat darker than the ground-colour, and shading into it below. On the medio-dorsal line, in the hinder part of the body, the spots are so arranged as to produce three or even four regular parallel bands. On the side of the body, also, bands are found, but they are indefinite in number, and irregularly disposed. On the head and legs, the circular spots pass by degrees into mere points. The belly is strewn with great double points, irregularly disposed, and on the legs the points, also double, unite and form bands. The tail is covered over the greater part of its length with annular spots. On the hinder part of the ears is a clear spot.”

It must not be supposed, however, that all Leopards have exactly the kind of marking here described, for it varies according to habitat, age, sex, and season. Still, the skin-markings are definite enough to enable one to tell the true Leopard, either from the Hunting Leopard (Cheetah), the Jaguar, or the Clouded Tiger, the only animals with which there is any possibility of confounding it.

In size the Leopard is decidedly inferior to either the Lion or Tiger; being not more than some seven feet six inches from snout to tip of tail, and two feet seven inches high at the shoulder. The tail itself is about three feet eight inches long. The female is somewhat smaller than the male, to which the above measurements apply. The whiskers are strong and white, and the eyes yellow.

The head-quarters of the Leopard are the African continent, where its range is almost co-extensive with the Lion’s, as it occurs from Algeria in the north to Cape Colony in the south. In the latter locality it is known by the settlers as the Tiger, but this is quite a misnomer. The Tiger of the Cape colonists is a _spotted_, not a _striped_ Cat, and is indeed nothing but the African variety of the Panther. Like the Lion, the Leopard extends into Asia, penetrating, however, much farther into that continent than the king of beasts. In the western parts of Asia it occurs, amongst other places, in Palestine, where “it is found all round the Dead Sea, in Gilead, and Bashan, and occasionally in the few wooded districts in the West.” Leopards are found in Ceylon, where they are the only great Carnivores, but where they are neither very numerous nor very dangerous, as they seldom attack man. By the Europeans the Ceylon Leopard is erroneously called a Cheetah, but the true “Cheetah” (_Felis jubata_), the Hunting Leopard of India, does not exist in the island.

The Leopard is found at its extreme easterly range in Japan, where it occurs under a distinct variety, known as the “Northern Leopard,” the skin of which is “much like that of a fine-coloured Hunting Leopard, but it is at once distinguished by the comparatively shorter legs, by the larger size and brown centre of the black spots, and from all the varieties of the Leopard by the linear spots on the nape and the spots on the back not being formed of roses or groups of spots. The skin in its tanned state is four feet six inches, and the tail two feet ten inches long.”

Another variety from Formosa is distinguished by the shortness of its tail, which is not more than a foot and three-quarters long, or about half the length of that of its African brother. Some naturalists propose to consider both these varieties as distinct species, but such characters as the length of the tail and the form and disposition of the spots are eminently variable, and when we consider that another Leopard from Formosa has been described with a tail one foot one inch long, and another whose caudal appendage was two feet seven inches in length, we shall certainly be justified in concluding that such slight difference must have been produced by the innate tendency of all animals to vary in unimportant particulars, and by the influence of surrounding conditions, and we may safely put all these various kinds of Leopard under the common label _Felis pardus_.

There is, however, one very interesting character about the “Northern Leopard” which, although by no means entitling it to rank as a species, yet makes it a very instructing instance of the way in which a breed or race is produced by the modifying influence of climate. The animal in question is found not only in Japan, but in Mantchuria, “extending probably to Corea, and the Island of Saghalien,” and is remarkable from the fact that its hair is long and shaggy, a condition of things evidently brought about by the cold climate it has to endure. Hence we see that the British climate need not have differed from its present condition to have been the home, as indeed it once was, of the larger beasts of prey.

Perhaps the most interesting variety of this species is the Black Leopard of Java. It has exactly the appearance of an ordinary Leopard painted black, the paint, however, not being laid on sufficiently thick to hide the spots, which are of a more intense black than the rest of the hide. The Black Leopard is sometimes described as a distinct species, and is called _Leopardus melas_, but there can be very little doubt that it is, in reality, a mere variety, differing only in colour--the most variable of characters--from the common kind. It is, however, so singular as to require the special notice which we have given it.

“Leopards frequent the vicinity of pasture-lands in quest of the Deer and other peaceful animals which resort to them; and the villagers often complain of the destruction of their cattle by these formidable marauders. In relation to them the natives have a curious but firm conviction that when a Bullock is killed by a Leopard, and, in expiring, falls so that _its right side is undermost_, the Leopard will not return to devour it. I have been told by English sportsmen (some of whom share in the popular belief), that sometimes, when they have proposed to watch by the carcase of a Bullock recently killed by a Leopard, in the hope of shooting the spoiler on his return in search of his prey, the native owner of the slaughtered animal, though earnestly desiring to be avenged, has assured them that it would be in vain, as, the beast having fallen on its right side, the Leopard would not return.

“The Singhalese hunt them for the sake of their extremely beautiful skins, but prefer taking them in traps and pitfalls, and occasionally in spring cages formed of poles driven firmly into the ground, within which a Kid is generally fastened as a bait, the door being held open by a sapling bent down by the united force of several men, and so arranged as to act as a spring, to which a noose is ingeniously attached, formed of plaited Deer’s hide. The cries of the Kid attract the Leopard, which, being tempted to enter, is enclosed by the liberation of the spring, and grasped firmly round the body by the noose.”[18]

There is a Scottish adage which says that “Hawks will not peck out hawks’ een;” but the Leopard, a Carnivore, has a confirmed liking for the flesh of the flesh-eating Dog. This fact has been observed by a writer who states that the Leopard has quite a mania for that sort of diet, and will not hesitate to penetrate into a tent at night in quest of his favourite game.

There is a rather curious habit of the Leopards which we have observed at the Zoological Gardens, though whether it holds good with all Leopards we are not prepared to say, never having seen the circumstance mentioned. The Lion and Tiger, when devouring their reeking bones at their four o’clock dinner, at Regent’s Park, lie down at full length, and hold the meat between their fore-paws, in this way steadying it while they take their tremendous bites. The Leopards, on the other hand, do not lie down, but squat on their haunches, the fore-legs being kept almost vertical, and the head, of course, correspondingly bent down to reach the food. The paws are rarely used to steady the piece of meat, and only, in fact, when the beast comes across a particularly fractious morsel which he finds it impossible to manage with his teeth alone. For this reason, a Leopard in the act of feeding is a far more awkward-looking beast than the Lion or Tiger, both of which hold their food in quite a civilised way.

In connection with the Leopard’s mode of feeding, we may mention a curious tale about its diet. There can be little doubt that it is a mere “yarn,” or rather a piece of folk-lore, but still it is interesting, especially when we think of the many tales of clay-eating men:--“The natives [of Ceylon] assert that it devours the _kaolin_ clay, called by them _kiri mattee_, in a very peculiar way. They say that the Cheetah [Leopard] places it in lumps beside him, and then gazes intently on the sun, till, on turning his eyes on the clay, every piece appears of a red colour like flesh, when he instantly devours it.”

As a rule, the Leopard seems to be far more cowardly than the Lion or Tiger. Jules Gérard, the Lion-killer, holds the beast in the greatest contempt for its pusillanimity. Still, it often shows a good deal of pluck, chiefly, however, when in want of food. As to this matter, the actual experience of those who have observed the animal in its native land will convey a truer idea than any summing up of its good and bad points. “One night I was suddenly awoke by a furious barking of our Dogs, accompanied by cries of distress. Suspecting that some beast of prey had seized upon one of them, I leaped, undressed, out of my bed, and, gun in hand, hurried to the spot whence the cries proceeded. The night was pitchy dark, however, and I could distinguish nothing; yet, in the hope of frightening the intruder away, I shouted at the top of my voice. In a few moments a torch was lighted, and we then discovered the marks of a Leopard, and also large patches of blood. On counting the Dogs, I found that ‘Summer,’ the best and fleetest of our kennel, was missing. As it was in vain that I called and searched for him, I concluded that the Tiger [Leopard] had carried him away; and, as nothing further could be done that night, I again retired to rest; but the fate of the poor animal continued to haunt me, and drove sleep away. I had seated myself on the front chest of the wagon, when suddenly the melancholy cries were repeated, and on rushing to the spot, I discovered ‘Summer’ stretched at full length in the middle of a bush. Though the poor creature had several deep wounds about his throat and chest, he at once recognised me, and, wagging his tail, looked wistfully in my face. The sight sickened me as I carried him into the house, where, in time, however, he recovered. The very next day ‘Summer’ was revenged in a very unexpected manner. Some of the servants had gone into the bed of the river to chase away a Jackal, when they suddenly encountered a Leopard in the act of springing at our Goats, which were grazing, unconscious of danger, on the river’s bank. On finding himself discovered, he immediately took refuge in a tree, when he was at once attacked by the men. It was, however, not until he had received upwards of sixteen wounds--some of which were inflicted by poisoned arrows--that life became extinct. I arrived at the scene of conflict only to see him die. During the whole affair, the men had stationed themselves at the foot of the tree, to the branches of which the Leopard was pertinaciously clinging, and, having expended all their ammunition, one of them proposed, and the suggestion was taken into serious consideration, that they should pull him down by the tail.”

One of the most remarkable circumstances related about the Leopard is the way in which it is attracted by persons suffering from small-pox; the odour attending that disease seems to have an irresistible fascination for them. Sir Emerson Tennent says that the medical officers at small-pox hospitals have to take special precautions against Leopards, which invariably haunt the spot.

As with the other _Felidæ_, the only value of the dead Leopard is the price of its skin, no truly carnivorous animal being good eating; although it is related that one of the South African tribes will eat the flesh, not only of the Leopard, but even of the Hyæna, when they are hard pressed for food.