The dulness of the remote station at which the two friends found themselves became varied by the sudden advent of a tiger in an adjacent jungle: a regular man-eater, a brute of unexampled strength and ferocity, which had carried off more than one unfortunate native from the pettah or village adjoining the cantonment; thus, as a point of honour, it behoved Trevor Chute and Beverley, as European officers and English sportsmen, to undertake its destruction. Indeed, it was to them, and to their skill, prowess, and hardihood, the poor natives looked entirely for security and revenge. 'I have sworn to kill that tiger, and send its skin as a trophy to Ida,' said Beverley, when the subject was first mooted at tiffin one day. 'She shall have it for the carriage in the Park, and to show to her friends!' About two in the morning, the comrades, accompanied by four native servants, took their guns, and set forth on this perilous errand, and leaving the secluded cantonment, proceeded some three or four miles in the direction of the jungle in which the tiger was generally seen. As he sat in reverie now, how well Trevor Chute could remember every petty detail of that eventful day; for an eventful one it proved, in more ways than one. The aspect of Jack Beverley, his dark and handsome face, set off by his white linen puggaree, his lips clearly cut, firm and proud, his eyes keen as those of a falcon, filled with the fire of youth and courage, and his splendid figure, with every muscle developed by the alternate use of the saddle, the oar, and the bat, his chest broad, and his head nobly set on his shoulders, and looking what he was, the model of an Englishman. 'Now, Chute, old fellow, you will let me have the first shot, for Ida's sake, when this brute breaks cover,' said he, laughing, as he handed him a case worked by her hands, adding, 'Have a cheroot--they are only chinsurrahs, but I'll send a big box to your crib; they will be too dry for me ere I get through them all, and we may find them serviceable this evening.' Poor Beverley could little foresee the evening that was before _him_! Though late in the season, the day and the scenery were beautiful. Leaving behind a noble thicket, where the fragrant and golden bells of the baubul trees mingled with the branches of other enormous shrubs, from the stems and branches of which the baboon ropes and other verdant trailers hung in fantastic festoons, the friends began to step short, look anxiously around them while advancing, a few paces apart, with their rifles at half-cock; for now they were close upon that spot called the jungle, and the morning sun shone brightly. After six hours' examination of the jungle the friends saw nothing, and the increasing heat of the morning made them descend thankfully into a rugged nullah that intersected the thicket, to procure some of the cool water that trickled and filtered under the broad leaves and gnarled roots far down below.