“Really? How exciting! And just what exactly are you writing about, Mrs. Burns?”
“Tigers, my dear. Or more specifically, the tiger.”
Melissa nodded.
“Well, of course. I should have realized. There’s nobody knows more about tigers than Uncle Harry.”
“So I’ve been told.” Marion turned to Harry. “You didn’t tell me that you had such a lovely niece,” she complained.
“Oh, but I haven’t! I mean, she’s not … she’s not really my niece.…”
“We’re just good friends,” chuckled Melissa, with a sly wink.
“Oh, I see,” replied Marion, falling in with the joke. “Well, Harry, I must say, you’ve got excellent taste!”
Harry coughed, reddened somewhat.
“Good heavens, Marion, you surely don’t think…?” He realized that they were pulling his leg now and he lapsed into a silence, but not before Melissa had noticed his use of Marion’s Christian name. “Hello, hello,” she thought to herself. “What’s going on here then?”
“Well er … if you can’t stay, then why—”
“To ask you to dinner, of course!” interrupted Melissa. “We’re having a little dinner party at our house tomorrow evening and, naturally, it wouldn’t be any kind of a party without you, Uncle Harry … and since Mrs. Burns will be staying with you for a few days, then she must come along too!”
Marion smiled.
“Well, I must say that’s very kind of you,” she exclaimed.
“Not at all! It’ll be a pleasure to have somebody new on the scene … and besides, it will save us having to fix up a date for Uncle Harry, won’t it?” Melissa grinned mischievously. “Also, Mrs. Burns, it could be very useful for you in a professional sense…”
“Oh?”
“Yes. You’ll be able to chat with our other resident tiger expert.”
“Oh no!” Harry’s face fell dramatically. “Don’t tell me Beresford is going to be there?”
Marion glanced at Harry, intrigued by his reaction. Receiving no elaboration from that quarter, she returned her gaze to Melissa.
“Bob Beresford, Mrs. Burns. The man who’s doing his level best to shoot the man-eater. He happens to be a friend of mine.”
Marion nodded.
“Well, yes, I’m sure that will be very useful.”
“As you may have noticed by Uncle Harry’s reaction, the two of them don’t get on particularly well, so if the evening ends in squabbling, I apologize in advance.”
“It sounds very interesting, I must say. I can hardly wait.” She glanced again at Harry, who had lapsed into a moody silence. “That is, of course, if my host decides to go.”
“He’d better,” retorted Melissa, “or he’ll never hear the last of it!” A car horn blared in the silence of the day. “Uh oh! I’d better run along or they’ll be leaving without me. Tomorrow evening then, eight o’clock. It’s informal, so don’t dress up or anything. Lovely to meet you Mrs. Burns, perhaps we’ll have a chance to get to know each other better tomorrow.” And Melissa was off, racing up the driveway, anxious to tell her father about Uncle Harry’s mysterious guest.
Marion gazed after her thoughtfully.
“Lovely girl,” she observed. “But what was all that business about? Who is this Bob Beresford, anyway?”
“Australian civvy,” mumbled Harry. “Fancies himself as some kind of big-shot white hunter.…” And with that, he took out a cigar, lit it and returned to a brooding silence.
Marion smiled. The reaction that the mere mention of the other man’s name had aroused in Harry was quite startling. There was obvious dislike there, resentment too and … something else. Something that went a little deeper, something … territorial. Marion was reminded of a fact that Harry had mentioned about tigers: how an old male had a large area of land that was regarded as his own property, not just by him, but by the other animals in the vicinity. Only occasionally, when an impatient male came into the area, would there ever be a conflict over the territory. Sometimes the resulting fight could be a bloody one.
This upcoming dinner party might well provide the answers to several questions that were forming themselves in Marion’s mind. She would go along strictly as an observer. She glanced down at her last line of type.
“The tiger is a solitary, elusive creature,” she had written.
“He certainly is,” she murmured, and went on with her work.
* * *
THE gaur bull was nervous. He cropped away at the jungle vegetation, his jaws muching the ferns into green mush, but he kept raising his great horned head at regular intervals to glance this way and that into the surrounding trees. His flaring nostrils had caught no particular scent and there had been no calls from bird or monkey to alert him to any danger, but for all that he was edgy and could not totally abandon himself to the pleasures of eating. His mate did not share his caution. The graze here in the jungle clearing was just a little too lush and inviting for her to concentrate her attention on anything else, so she kept her head low, swinging it from side to side in slow rhythmic curves while her jaws and rough tongue tore up great big clumps of moist fragrant sustenance.
But it was not the cow that Haji was watching, nor the big, heavily muscled bull that grazed beside her; rather, it was the leggy six-month-old calf accompanying the pair that demanded the tiger’s full attention. The trio had been something of a gift. Curled up asleep in the bushes, Haji’s first notion of their presence had been the abrupt rasping of grass as it was torn from the ground. As luck would have it, he was positioned downwind of the beasts and because of his lack of movement, he had not been spotted by any jungle sentries.
Still, for all that, he had not exactly been handed his dinner on a plate. The bull was alerted by some strange chemistry to the fact that all was not well. The great curved horns on his head were capable of ripping Haji open from end to end, so it was necessary to ensure that there was some considerable distance between him and his more vulnerable offspring, if there was to be a chance of Haji bringing off the attack successfully. Luckily, there seemed to be some chance of this happening. The calf was impatient to wander off on his own and seek his own graze. In the six months of his existence, he had yet to undergo a really frightening experience and this fact had made him a little cocksure, a little belligerent. He kept moving off across the clearing, his pink nose snuffling curiously amongst roots and grass, but each time he took more than half a dozen steps, the bull would issue a low, guttural warning that would stop the calf in his tracks. However, after a few moments had elapsed, the calf would resume his course, one that was taking him nearer and nearer to the place where Haji was lying in wait.
Haji licked his lips in anticipation. If the hunting had been better, he might not even have considered so daring a raid, but the Uprights seemed to be very wary of him now. He hardly ever got the opportunity to catch one alone in the right place, at the right time, though he had been searching extensively. It was several days since anything more sustaining than marsh rats and frogs had entered his belly and if his hunger grew any more intense, he would be obliged to take on anything that came along, even the big bull if necessary. Here, there was at least a strong possibility of success. If he could get one good hold on the calf’s throat, he could slip into the bushes through openings that would be far to small to admit the vengeful parents. Secure in there, he could feast to his heart’s content, while the bull bellowed his rage to the wind. So Haji waited, keeping absolutely still, his long body pressed tight against the ground.
The calf’s life had recently undergone a major change. He had spent the first months of it as a member of a sizable herd and because of this, he had received the best possible protection whenever danger was near. The adults would form themselves into a tightly packed circle with the youngsters locked securely in the middle, and then lowering their heads, they would present the tiger (the only creature in these parts large enough to present a threat) with a near impenetrable wall of bristl
ing horns. It was a very foolhardy animal indeed that ever chanced himself against such a terrible defense. But then, a month or so earlier, the sickness had come to the herd. Sudden, terrible, and debilitating, it had left grown bulls vomiting and bellowing, their bodies wracked with pain, their hide covered in ugly, suppurating sores. Within hours, they would drop to the ground and no amount of nudging or lowing from their companions could entice them back up onto their shuddering legs. The herd moved on, leaving the sick behind them and before death had settled on the gaurs’ eyes, the carrion creatures of the jungle descended to take their share of the diseased flesh. In a matter of weeks, the herd had been completely decimated, cut back to just a few creatures. The calf was lucky in that his family was one of the very few to escape the sickness completely. Lacking a decisive leader, since the dominant bull had fallen some weeks back, the survivors had split up into small family groups and would remain that way until numbers increased sufficiently to facilitate the formation of another herd. Life for the calf was now a considerably more dangerous affair, but he had yet to realize it. He interpreted the gruff commands of his parents as overzealousness on their part and was determined to assert his own will. Glancing slyly at his father from time to time, he contrived to move gradually away from his parents’ side. Every time the bull raised his huge head to stare in the direction of his offspring, the calf stood stock-still and cropped grass, giving the impression to his rather dull-witted father that he had not actually moved from the spot where he had last been standing. In this manner, the calf began to gradually put distance between his parents and himself and was well on the way to exploring the tangle of luxurious undergrowth that flanked the clearing.
Haji tensed himself, tiny muscles quivering on his shoulders and legs. He raised his body slightly so that it was just clear of the ground and focused his gaze on the calf completely now. He was anxious not to let his hunger make him too hasty. There would be a moment when everything was right, and then he would make his bid, not before. The calf was drawing nearer all the time, his brown eyes gazing directly at the bush where Haji was lying, but the shadows that dappled the tiger’s hide made him melt completely into his surroundings.
The bull raised his head and gave a loud snort of warning. The calf stopped, sank his head to crop the ground and the bull regarded him for several moments in glowering silence, aware at last of the considerable distance that separated them. Now the cow’s head came up too and she added her own more plaintive voice to that of her mate. The calf stood his ground defiantly, refusing to come back to them. There was a brief silence. Haji waited, the calf’s image trapped in the yellow orbs of his eyes, like a prehistoric insect in amber. Silently, he willed the calf to take another step closer.…
Now the cow lowered her head and resumed her noisy ruminations, but her mate continued to stare challengingly at his disobedient offspring for several moments, an expression that threatened a powerful butt if it was not obeyed. The calf weakened a little. He knew only too well the force of his father’s wrath, and now he lowered his head slightly, afraid to meet that terrible gaze. Reluctantly, the calf swung around, began to retrace his steps. Seeing this, the bull was satisfied. He put his own head down and resumed his meal.
Now! The moment had to be now, or it was lost forever! Haji froze the image in his mind, the calf in the midst of taking its first step away from him, the bull, nose to the ground, intent on tearing up a thick clump of ferns. The muscles in Haji’s legs jolted like well-oiled machinery and shot him out from cover like a bullet from the barrel of a gun. His great front paws struck the ground, his back legs came in to power the leap that would carry him through the air onto the calf, who had heard the slight noise of the tiger’s approach and was half turning around in a clumsy panic, not having the first idea of what to do to defend himself. In the fraction of a second that expired between leaps, Haji took careful aim and launched himself through the air.
It was the calf’s own indecision that saved him. Urinating pathetically where he stood, his back legs gave way and he tipped sideways at the very instant that Haji’s outstretched paws touched him. It was too late to adjust the angle of flight. Haji’s claws gouged deep furrows in the calf’s tender hide but impetus took the tiger over and across the body of his intended victim to tumble in an ungainly heap amidst the undergrowth. With a roar of frustration, Haji thrashed back to his feet. The calf was flopping about helplessly on the ground, his vulnerable underbelly exposed, but a deafening bellow from the old bull’s direction warned Haji that it was probably too late. There was a brief vision of a huge black shape bearing down on him, a pair of evil, curving horns. Instinctively, Haji flipped his body sideways and managed to avoid the full impact of the charge, but the thick part of one horn still caught him with a crippling sidelong blow to the ribs that drove all the breath out of his body. The force of it threw him sideways and he rolled over and over, several times, blasting out his pain and humiliation. The bull was not finished with him either. Wheeling around, it came back for another attempt. But this time, Haji wasn’t prepared to give the creature an opportunity. Spotting a small opening in the bushes off to his left, the cat flung himself at it and vanished like a shadow into the half-light beyond.
The bull, maddened by the presence of a creature he hated most in the world, flung himself at the spot where the tiger’s rump had been a moment before, pounding the bushes in a brutal senseless assault, until the undergrowth shook in every direction for some considerable distance. By the time the bull realized that his adversary had escaped, Haji was over a mile away, lying up in a bamboo thicket and licking the spot against his ribs where the bull’s horn had carved a deep red stripe, a raw, stinging stripe that ran in the opposite direction to the ones that nature had given him.
CHAPTER 26
IT BEING a Saturday, one of the nights that Harry habitually went to the Mess, the young trishaw boy turned up at the accustomed time and was surprised to find, that as well as a different destination, he had two passengers instead of the more usual, one. Accepting this with his usual stolid shrug, he took a crumpled piece of paper from his back pocket, the worn stub of a pencil from behind his ear and placed another tick on his list.
“It ought to be two ticks tonight,” Harry reminded him. “In fact, it really should be five, because this is a longer trip.
The trishaw boy shook his head.
“Grandfather would not like,” he murmured. But after some careful thought, he did agree to put down an extra tick for Marion.
“Poor little devil,” whispered Marion as she eased her frame into the rather precarious seating. “For carrying someone of my build, he should have a hundred ticks.”
Harry chuckled.
“Well, he’s determined to work it off the honourable way, I’m afraid. At a dollar a trip, it’s going to take a very long time.”
The trishaw glided them along remote jungle roads, the kerosene lamp shining brilliantly in the darkness. It was mercifully cool this evening and a lively breeze, fragrant with the scent of jacaranda and frangipani, rippled through the topmost fronds of the coconut palms. Off in the darkness, they could hear the restless sounds of waves crashing onto the beaches, far below. Nearer at hand, there was the weird rhythmic croaking of hundreds of tree frogs, the drone of a myriad unseen insects. Marion turned to gaze into the unfathomable green depths on the left-hand side of the road.
“I suppose he’s out there somewhere,” she mused thoughtfully.
“Who?”
“Our tiger, of course. What do you imagine he’s doing now, Harry?”
“Oh, he’s on the prowl, no doubt. They do most of their hunting at night.”
The trishaw boy took a deep breath and increased his rate of pedalling dramatically whizzing the rickety vehicle around a bend at such a terrifying rate that it threatened to tip over. Marion had an abrupt mental image of a lean striped shape loping silently along behind the trishaw and the idea was so horrible, she put it out of her mind instantly an
d did her very best not to think of it again. Both she and the trishaw boy were relieved to see the bright streetlights of their destination come into view, but Harry was lost for the moment in his own thoughts. The sight of a battered Land Rover parked outside Dennis’ gates soon jerked him back to reality. He alighted and helped Marion to clamber out. The trishaw boy watched the two of them thoughtfully. The Tuan’s female visitor was already the talk of the kampong, and he was as interested as anybody else, to know what was going on.
“How Tuan get back?” he asked.
“Oh, that’s alright. The Tuan at this house has promised to take me back in his motor car. Besides, it will be very late when we are ready to go. You’d best get back to your family.”
“Okay, Tuan. Have nice party. I go now!”
“Just a minute!” Marion stepped forward. She took a ten-dollar bill out of her purse and held it out to the boy. He stared at her bewildered for a moment.
“I not charge,” he protested.
“Just because you have a special arrangement with Tuan Sullivan, that doesn’t mean that I have,” Marion told him. “Besides, this isn’t fare money. I noticed that your flip-flops are nearly worn through and everybody knows that a good trishaw man needs decent shoes to power him along.”
“But … I can buy many pairs flip-flop with this much…”
“I’m sure you’ll think of other things you need … perhaps your mother would like a present?” suggested Marion.
The boy thought for a moment.
“She needs a new cooking pot,” he said hesitantly.
“Good! Well, you take this along and buy her one. Some new flip-flops too.” She pressed the bill into his hand and after a few moments’ hesitation, he lowered his head slightly and crumpled the money into his pocket.
“Thank you, Missy,” he murmured. “You good lady. I go now.” And with a brief wave, he turned the trishaw around and headed back the way he had come. Harry and Marion stared after him for a few moments, until the swaying glow of his light was lost to them.
Tiger, Tiger Page 33
