Barbara Cleverly - The Palace Tiger

Movement below Edgar’s tree told Joe he was already running towards the kill. Joe climbed down, still clutching his rifle, his head a whirl of mixed emotions with something very like elation bubbling to the top. As Colin had taught them, he picked up a stone and threw it at the body to check for signs of life. It seemed to him a mean act but tigers apparently dead had been known to leap roaring to their feet when inexperienced shikari had approached to place a conquering foot on their necks. There was no movement so he moved forward to apply the second test. He tugged the end of the tiger’s tail and, still seeing no response, he waved his rifle in triumph as Edgar ran towards him.

When Edgar reached the open ground he stopped. His body tensed, he dropped his hat and yelled something which Joe could not possibly hear over the continued noise of the beaters and the now hysterical monkeys.

Joe could make no sense of what was happening but his blood chilled to see Edgar’s gun go up and train steadily straight at him.

‘Edgar! What the hell?’

Joe was looking down the barrels of a 500 express rifle and one of them was still loaded.

Holding his rifle one-handed, Edgar raised his left arm and in a well-remembered soldier’s silent warning his hand chopped down savagely twice. In instant response, Joe spun around to cover his rear and looked straight into the open red jaws of a tiger.

A tiger only feet away, very much alive, full of rage and on the point of springing. Colin’s voice sounding in his head, and his instincts allowing for the change in height as the beast leapt, Joe swung his rifle upwards. With no time to shoulder it, he fired from the hip. The recoil of the big gun threw him backwards and sideways away from the twenty-stone body hurtling towards him and he fell, out of the path of the tiger as it collapsed, twitching and thrashing, over the prints of his own feet in the sand. Its hot breath swept his cheek as it crashed down; the claws of one outflung paw raked his forearm.

The monkey chorus leaped about, angry little black faces gibbering and screaming, throwing pieces of wood at the body of the tiger. Joe scrambled to his feet and was glad of the support of Edgar’s arm as he rushed forward and held him upright.

‘Sorry, Joe, couldn’t get a clear shot at the bugger! You were right in my line of fire. But what the hell! Where did he come from? Are you all right, old man? That was a nasty surprise!’ He released Joe and went to examine the tiger. ‘Fine shot! Right through the throat!’ He straightened and began to laugh. ‘Two tigers, with two bullets, in two minutes! This is a story that’ll be told at campfires for years! Two Shots Sandilands! I can hear it now.’

Edgar’s attempt at jovial insouciance did not deceive Joe; it covered a depth of trembling agitation. At last Joe managed to get his vocal cords in gear. ‘Edgar — thank you. Thank you very much. Again.’

Edgar raised his revolver. ‘Mustn’t forget the all clear in all this excitement!’ He fired three swift shots. ‘We’d better get the doc to have a look at that arm but meanwhile I’ll put this round it.’ He produced a large handkerchief. ‘Can’t have you dripping blood everywhere in that dramatic way.’

‘What in heaven’s name is going on here?’ Suddenly and silently, Colin was at their elbow, rifle over his arm. ‘Oh, no! Good Lord!’ He read the scene in front of him at once, needing no word of explanation from Joe or Edgar. ‘Two of the creatures! How can I have missed that? What a bloody fool! Joe, are you all right?’

Joe reassured him. ‘The tigress did everything you expected her to do, Colin, right on cue. But where the hell did this other one come from? It was right behind me!’

Colin shook his head slowly. ‘Her cub? Most likely her cub. Fully grown as you’ve noticed. They must have been hunting as a pair. .’ His face contorted with anger and regret. ‘If only I’d had more time to examine the area I might have come across a second set of pug marks. This was very nearly a disaster.’

‘Explains why so many villagers were being taken,’ said Edgar practically. ‘Feeding two of the buggers!’

A band of villagers, beaters judging by the sticks and drums they still carried, approached warily, then less warily as they saw the two bodies lying motionless. They shouted exultantly at Colin, clashing their sticks together in triumph. One approached the tigress and began to pour out invective on the dead animal.

‘“This shaitan of a tiger”,’ Edgar translated with a grin. ‘Just giving you the flavour of this now. . They’re glad it’s dead. He’s naming all his friends and relations who’ve been killed. . it’s quite a long list.’ He turned to the hunter, who was still unable to join in the celebrations. ‘Come on, Colin, cheer up! All’s well that ends in two dead man-eaters. It’s a double triumph for everyone.’

Slowly Colin allowed himself a slight smile, then, catching the relief of Edgar and Joe and the good humour of the beaters, a wider smile.

As the noises died down, they all grinned at each other in satisfaction over the body of the tiger. They were still grinning when, a moment later, an insistent blast of a railway whistle sounded to the east. It sounded again and again.

They ran, blinded by sweat, lungs heaving a protest at the heat, drawn on through the scrub by the note of panic in the whistle.

It led them to Bahadur’s tree.

Shubhada, stiff with fright, dropped her whistle as they crashed through the remaining bushes and pointed with an unsteady finger towards the thicket separating her tree from the one to its left, that of Claude Vyvyan. Joe looked and looked again.

‘Where’s Bahadur? Your Highness, where’s Bahadur?’

Again she pointed. Shrilly she said, ‘I don’t know! He got down to have a. . to answer a call of nature. . sometime before the bugle blew. I told him to try not to. . it was only nerves. . but he insisted. Then the beat started and he still hadn’t come back. I didn’t know what to do. I stayed on the machan trying to cover the nullah and the game path. I didn’t want to whistle in case it brought the tiger down on us.’

Colin nodded in approval but he was looking grey with anxiety.

‘I never saw her. And Bahadur’s still in there! He must have heard the all clear but he didn’t come out so I started to blow my whistle. Vyvyan got here just before you and he went in. He hasn’t come out either!’ Her voice rose to a peremptory scream. ‘What are you waiting for? Go and help him!’

Edgar held her ladder in place and she climbed down and made to dash into the undergrowth. Edgar barred her way.

‘Help! Colin! Over here!’ came Claude’s voice faintly.

On unwilling feet they made their way in single file following a pathway of flattened grasses into the heart of the thicket. Claude’s rifle lay abandoned to one side of the trail. Shoulders heaving, Claude was kneeling over a small form lying on its back. Hearing them approach, he got to his feet and stood, arms dangling hopelessly at his side. His khaki shorts and shirt were patched and dark with sweat and blood, tears ran down his face and he dashed them away with a bloodstained hand.

‘Too late. He’s dead. Bloody tiger got him!’

In silent horror they crowded round the body of Bahadur, shock anaesthetizing them from the destructive emotions of fear, guilt and regret which would lay ambush to them later.

‘Don’t touch the body.’

At the quiet command from Joe, Edgar and Colin held back, eyes devouring the scene. Somewhere behind them there was a stricken cry from Shubhada and Claude went to her side, murmuring. With an automatic assumption of authority, Joe bent to examine the body. Unable to bear what he saw as a look of astonishment and horror on the boy’s face, Joe gently closed the eyelids and turned his attention to the fatal wound.