A TIGER STORY.

Hawke's Bay Tribune, Volume I, Issue 33, 21 January 1911, Page 2 (Supplement)

A TIGER STORY.

Among the many anecdotes of big game shooting is the following amusing cue :—A youth recently arrived in India, went out with the party for the usual Christmas shoot, and, being a “griffin” (the Indian name for “greenhorn”), was not regarded as a great acquisition. the more so as his only weapon was a service Martini-Henry rifle, a relic of his Oxford volunteering days. He was put in the worst position, with strict orders to fire at nothing but tiger. I’he beat started, and all remained deadly silent in the line of machans (tree platforms) as the din of beaters gradually approached. Suddenly a shot was heard from the obscure corner where our “griffin” was posted, rapidly followed by another. Muttered ejaculations from the younger men and good solid, hard swearing from the senior members of the party followed each shot—swearing which grew heartier and more fervent as a perfect fusillade from tilt* earner synchronised with the near approach of the coolies and end of the beat. The fact that each sportsman had to stay at his post and swear in silence under his breath only increased the bottled-up wrath. At th* end of ihe beat a general and hum ie I move was made in the direction of th? despised corner occupied by the “griffin. ’ There he sat, wreath-d in a huge smile of utter content. As each angry rna.n cime up a storm of vituperation was poured upon his devoted head. The smile gradually faded, and the yor.th stared in amazement at the anzry sportsmen gesticulating below. “AA hat. the divil Io you mean, sir,” said a senior officer, “spoiling the whole shoot bv your—fusillade?” The “griffin” blurted out. “I only got three. How man; did you get?” “Three what, sir? ” yelled the peppery old senior. “Tigers, of course, sir. You said I was onlv to fire at tigers. They are down there in tho grass.” And so it proved. —From “Jungle Byways in India.” by E. I’. Stebb ing.