part0033

It was a fortnight since Ruth had been killed. There had been an inquest as a matter of formality and the doctor had pronounced a verdict of death from multiple injuries and burning by fire due to accident.

Greystone tried hard to carry on with his work.

Neville Gardner and June visited him once to express their condolences. Both of them noticed the change in his appearance, although it required the womanly intuition in June to delve deeper and know that John was very worried over something. She thought there was an expression of fear in his countenance.

A few days later the D.S.P. called on the Gardners’, saying he had come to inquire if there had been any fresh incidents or signs of trouble with the Forest Department subordinates. He also asked a lot of questions. Had they noticed anything unusual about the behaviour of John and Ruth towards each other lately? Were they in the habit of quarrelling?

Ted was disappointed if he had expected to unearth any information. But the nature of the questions indicated to June that the police officer knew the relationship between John Greystone and his wife had been far from happy.

This caused her to think. Had there been another man in the picture? If so, who could he be? She knew that the D.S.P. himself used to go there very often.

June pondered. Was the Police Officer that man? Had John come to find out that his wife was unfaithful to him?

Everyone said the accident was caused by a nut falling off from some part of the steering mechanism. But had it really fallen off; or been made to fall off?

She began to feel very worried herself.

While all this was going on, Greystone almost forgot about the man-eater.

But the Karumba, Chicka, did not. Every day he ranged the jungle and the Karadi Arr to find out if he could, by her pug-marks, whether the tigress still hung about near the stream and yet lived in the cave he had discovered.

And so, early one morning, it happened that he came upon her fresh spoor. She had come down the hill, crossed the wet sands of the Karadi Arr, and walked up a tributary that converged on the eastern bank of the rivulet. On an impulse, Chicka decided to follow these pug-marks to see where they led.

Although completely dry, the bed of the tributary was sandy, and this showed the tigress' trail clearly, Chicka followed very cautiously, alert for the slightest signs of danger. After covering some distance, he noticed that the form of the tracks he was following had abruptly changed.

Up to this point the tigress had been strolling aimlessly along. She had left the imprints of all four of her feet in the wet sands of the main stream and on the dry bed of the tributary.

Suddenly the pug-marks of apparently only two feet showed themselves, and not all four feet as before. To a novice, if he noticed it at all, this change would be inexplicable. To an experienced tracker like Chicka it meant only one thing. The tigress was now placing her hind-feet, at each step forward she took, on exactly the same spot her corresponding fore-foot, both on the right and left side, had just vacated.

She would do that for only one reason in the world.

She had commenced to stalk something and wanted to move more silently. Whether her quarry had been some human-being or an animal, Chicka had no means of knowing. So he still followed.

Shortly later the tracks indicated that the tigress had crossed the tributary and her pug-marks were lost to view on the pebbly ground and grass that grew in the jungle into which she had disappeared.

Chicka was just about to turn back when the movement of something black on a tree growing higher up; the sloping bank that shelved down to the dry stream caught his attention. He sank to his haunches and ‘froze'.

That something turned out to be only a crow. But this crow was behaving in a very peculiar fashion. Every little while it flew down to one of the lower boughs. The tree on which the crow sat was clearly visible to Chicka, perhaps seventy-five yards away. He noticed it was a silk-cotton that had shed its leaves in preparation to receiving the monsoon rains. From this position, the crow craned its neck and body downwards, cawing and fluttering its wings agitatedly. Then the bird appeared to take fright, for it flew up again to one of the higher branches.

After a little while, seemingly gaining confidence, fine crow repeated the maneuver, but after each of these demonstrations it lost courage and beat a hasty retreat to a higher limb of the tree, there to recover from its attack of nerves.

"What was frightening the bird?

At last it left the silk-cotton tree and flew to a neighbouring one that was considerably smaller, and from here started its annoying cawing and persistent fluttering of wings, all over again.

Chicka thought he heard a faint growl.

The crow certainly got a severe fright, for it flew hastily back to the very top of the original silk-cotton.

While he watched, Chicka heard the swish of wing and a vulture clumsily seated itself near the crow on the tree-top. The vulture looked downwards several times and half-spread its wings to dry them in the rays of the early morning sun. But it did not attempt to come any lower.

Another vulture arrived and joined the first. It, too, did not venture to perch any lower on the tree or to settle on the ground.

All these signs conveyed definite information to little Chicka's jungle-trained mind. The tigress had killed something at the foot of the big tree. At that very moment she was either eating it or perhaps had already eaten her fill and fallen asleep beside the carcass to digest her meal. But without a shadow of doubt, she was there.

The crow and the vultures had awoken her. That was why they were too frightened to fly to the ground or come anywhere near the kill. Their strange behavior indicated that, from their elevated position they could see the tigress. The crow was endeavouring, by persistently cawing and fluttering his wings, to annoy and disturb the tigress and drive her away for a few minutes to enable him to glean some pickings for himself. But the feline was far too replete after her heavy meal and refused to allow such minor happenings as were going on in the branches above, to worry her.

This set Chicka thinking. If he crept silently away without letting his presence become known to the big cat, in all probability she would lie there and not leave the spot for at least another hour or two. That would give him sufficient time in which to summon his master to shoot the tigress.

Silently, and employing all his knowledge of woodcraft, Chicka started moving backwards, a step at a time. He watched the crow and the vultures intently as he did so. He knew that the tigress could not see him from her place on the ground amongst the thickets, while the birds could. If they noticed him, they would register alarm. That alarm would be recognised by the tigress immediately. She would lose no time in either disappearing, or she might decide to investigate what it was that was frightening the birds. And if she followed this latter course she would soon come to know of his presence. Then he would die swiftly and terribly!

So Chicka watched the crow and the vultures. Each time their heads were turned the other way he backed swiftly, half-a-dozen or more paces. Then he stood still when they looked in his direction again.

In this manner, he reached a sheltering bush. Quickly he stepped behind it, and keeping it between himself and the tree on which the three birds were sitting, Chicka faded from the scene.

Once out of sight and hearing of the birds or the tigress, he broke into a jog-trot, and kept this up till he stood at the foot of the steps leading to the verandah of John's bungalow, his chest heaving with his gasping breath, while beads of sweat glistened on his bare torso.

"Dorai! Dorai! Come quickly; I've found the tigress", he called loudly.

John was seated at his desk checking accounts when he heard Chicka. He came at once.

The Karumba burst out, "Get your rifle and come soon, dorai . The tigress is with her kill and I think you have a chance to shoot her".

John waited to hear no more. He grabbed the double-barreled .470, thrusting a fist full of cartridges into the pocket of the khaki bush coat he donned.

Summoning the bearer, he said hastily, "Chicka has located the tigress and I'm going to shoot her. Remain here till I return".

Chandra inclined his head, "God grant you good; fortune, sahib ".

With Chicka leading, John followed at a rapid pace. When they arrived at the bed of the Karadi Arr, the Karumba pointed out the fresh pug-marks of the tigress that he had followed earlier in the day.

Then he stopped and whispered to John, "Let us plan our attack now, dorai . Once we start walking along the bed of the tributary we should not speak at all, even in whispers. There are steep banks on both sides. The sound of our voices will be trapped in the valley; and may be carried to the ears of the devil-tigress".

He went on, "I have an idea and it seems to me the only feasible one under the circumstances.

"We will creep soundlessly along the tributary to the spot where I saw the crow and the vultures. There you must hide behind a tree, on the side opposite where the tigress is lying”. "I will continue along the tributary and make a detour, climb the bank, and come out behind and above her.

"When I judge I have reached the right place, I will take cover and tap two stones together softly. I will not make too much noise nor hit the stones together, too often. For if make too loud a sound it will frighten the tigress and drive her away altogether.

"I will make just sufficient noise to awaken and disturb her, without frightening her. That will make her leave her kill and slink away from the source of the sound.

"As I shall be above her on the hill, tapping the stones against each other, she will come down towards you because her natural line of retreat to her cave on the big hillock lies down the tributary and the Karadi Arr. Also, the cover afforded by the trees growing along the banks of both streams will be an added attraction to the tigress in trying to get away from the disturbance. All this will ensure her coming in your direction”.

"And when you shoot; shoot to kill, master", he concluded.

"It's very dangerous, Chicka for you I mean! You're unarmed, and the tigress might hear you above her on the hill. Out of curiosity she might want to investigate the cause of the tapping sounds for herself. Remember, I shall have no means of helping you, because I won't be able to see you or the tigress from the stream-bed".

"Don't fear for me, dorai ", was Chicka's smiling assurance, "I can look after myself. Conceal yourself well in order that she does not see you when she descends to the stream".

Again Chicka took the lead and they crept up the dry bed of the tributary. John could clearly see the tigress' pugmarks and the Karumba's own bare-footed trail, as he had walked up and down the nullah a little while earlier.

At last they reached the place from where Chicka had watched the birds on the tree. The crow was not to be seen, but the vultures were there yet. Over half-a-dozen had gathered by now and all of them were perched on the silk-cotton tree. The fact that they had not come down to the ground to devour whatever dead creature the tigress had been feeding upon showed that she was still there.

The Karumba nudged John's arm and pointed with his right hand to the trunk of a large muthee tree growing on the opposite bank a few yards ahead.

Greystone knew that the little man meant he should hide himself behind that tree to intercept the tigress, after he had disturbed her. He tiptoed across to the bole of the muthee and got behind it while Chicka carried on stealthily up the nullah and was hidden from sight by the bushes and grass as the tributary twisted and turned along its course.

John waited for what seemed an hour to hear the; sounds that the Karumba was to make. It was past midday and the waves of heat danced and shimmered above the sands of the rivulet, although it was cool and shady beneath the muthee tree where he leaned his shoulder against its smooth trunk.

At last came the tapping he had been expecting to hear so long. In a direct line, Chicka was less than a furlong distant now, with the tigress much closer to him than to the planter.

John clearly heard the first, two knocks made by stone against stone as the jungle man struck two bits of rock together.

Clack, clack, came the noise; a pause; and clack, clack, again.

There was silence for an appreciable period. Then came the sound once more; clack, clack; pause; and clack, clack.

Noiselessly John pushed forward the safety-catch that brought his .470 to the 'full cock' position. He continued to lean motionless against the tree while his eyes roved searchingly over every bush and clump of grass that grew on the opposite bank, striving to penetrate the natural camouflage created by the play of blazing sunlight upon deep shadows to see if he could detect in that medley of brilliance and darkness, brown and green leaves, grass and ground, the evil form of the tigress striped in her chevrons of black on a russet background, as she crept towards him.

Nothing moved, nor did he hear the slightest rustle.

Again, Chicka banged the stones he held together.

Clack, clack; followed after another minute by clack, clack, once more.

Still there was no movement among the bushes, grass and undergrowth before him. The clacking of the stones against each other now ceased.

Apparently the Karumba had decided that he had made enough noise to awaken the slumbering tigress and to send her sneaking downhill towards the bed of the nullah and John without alarming her unduly.

Ten minutes possibly passed; perhaps fifteen.

Then unexpectedly, as if he had become impatient, Chicka struck the stones together once more clack, clack.

The next moment to John's listening ears came a loud "Arr-augh! Arr-augh!" from high up the bank in front of him, followed by a frightful human scream.

The shriek repeated itself, and some choking words. John thought he could distinguish "Dorai " and then, "Help! Help!”

After that complete silence.

The voice that uttered those screams had been Chicka's. Undoubtedly the man-eater had got him!

In a frenzy of dismay John fired both barrels of his.470 into the air to try to frighten the tigress off the man she had attacked.

He shouted, "I'm coming", and reloading as he ran, started to stumble up the steep bank before him.

Lying on the ground, in a welter of blood and bones, lay the three-quarter-eaten carcass of a sambar stag.

John had no means of guessing where the Karumba had been hiding when the tigress had attacked him, nor where she had taken him after that. So, he started calling frantically as he ran, "Chicka! Where are you?" But there was no reply, only an ominous, foreboding silence.

As John climbed higher he yelled loudly, almost hysterically, “Chicka! Answer me! Where are you?”

In desperation, he threshed about in the undergrowth, panting with exertion and horror of mind as he called again and again to his retainer.

At last he heard what sounded like a groan from somewhere nearby. John halted in his tracks and shouted anxiously, "Chicka! Chicka! Is that you? Answer me! Say something so that I can find you".

The reply came faintly, "I'm here; under a bush".

John located the direction from which the voice had come and pressed forward, searching the undergrowth at each pace as he called, "I hear you, Chicka. I'm coming now. Bear up; have courage".

He found the Karumba beneath a bush where the tigress had dropped him as the sounds of John's two rifle shots had startled her.

Greystone knelt to examine the little man.

Chicka had been bitten through the chest, and there were gaping holes in his left side where the tigress had seized him in her jaws to carry him away. The blood ebbed into the ground in a sluggish, scarlet stream.

With those ghastly wounds, it was borne upon John Greystone that his little shikari had not long to live. Chicka greeted his arrival with a wan smile. In a very faint, halting whisper, his words came, "You were right dorai , the 'pischaschi pilli ' (devil tiger) found me - before I saw her!”

Into John's mind pressed the thought—to assume an obsession—he would be responsible if this gallant little man was to die. At all costs, he must take him to his bungalow, and from there to the hospital at Nilambur.

He leaned his rifle against a sapling, knelt to gather Chicka into his arms, and slung the unconscious form over his left shoulder. Then he picked up the rifle in his right hand and started stumbling down the hill. It was a steep decline and he narrowly saved himself from falling more than once.

At last he reached the bed of the tributary and commenced walking as fast as was possible towards the Karadi Arr with the limp body of the little Karumba still slumped across his shoulder. But John had not yet reached it when he felt Chicka tauten, squirm a little and then become limp.

He bent his left hand to touch the Karumba's blood soaked side, but could feel no movement or breathing whatsoever.

Even as John laid the body down on the sandy bed of the tributary he knew that his companion was dead.

Minutes later he picked him up again, slung the body across his shoulder, and made for the Karadi Arr and his bungalow. Tears were rolling down his rugged cheeks.

When he reached the open ground around his house two people saw him. One was June. She had come with an invitation from her father to lunch the following day. The other was Chandra, who had been telling her that his master and Chicka had gone after the tigress.

From that distance, covered with the victim's blood as he was, the planter looked a frightful spectacle. Both June and Chandra came forward at the run to see what was the matter.

Chandra helped to carry the body to the godown that Chicka had occupied, where they laid it upon his charpoy. His caste does not deter him now, John observed to himself dully.

Greystone briefly recounted what had happened, and as he finished said "I noticed that next to the silk-cotton is a banyan tree with a number of low branches. I’m going back now before the vultures return and I will sit on this banyan all night. Perhaps the tigress may come back to look for Chicka or finish what is left of the sambar. There's just a slim chance although in all probability my rifle-shots have frightened her away entirely".

"But you haven't tied a machan, John", June reminded him anxiously, blushing as she caught herself addressing him by his Christian name.

The planter looked at her for a second. Evidently, he had noticed it too. Then he answered, "A machan won't be necessary. It's quite a thick banyan and I'll be able to squat comfortably in a crotch somewhere. I'll take a cushion with me to make it a little more pleasant".

June's chin tightened resolutely. Almost defiantly she muttered, "We'll take two cushions, John; for I'm coming to keep you company".

Greystone looked up. This girl being with him would impede his movements. It would not be safe. He must not allow it.

Then he gazed into her dark eyes. He saw the raven black hair hanging down her shoulders; he noticed the sling of the .3006 rifle that passed between her breasts to outline their firm plumpness. And he did not protest.

June started speaking. Addressing Chandra, she asked in Hindustani "Will you send word to my father telling him what has happened? Please inform him I shall only be back tomorrow morning".

Chandra promised to convey her message.

"Give me fifteen minutes till I get rid of this blood-soaked clothing", John asked her. "Meanwhile, Chandra will serve you tea and biscuits".

Then he did something that made June choke. He walked up to the mangled body on the charpoy, placed the palm of his hand tenderly on its forehead, and said in Tamil, his voice growing huskier as he spoke: "Have no doubt little friend and rest in peace; I shall avenge you".