Though I have no doubt that it is, generally speaking, true that a tiger will not attack a group of four or five people, I am not at all sure that this is correct as regards a wounded tiger, and a tiger I had wounded once sprang into a party of I should say at least twenty people, and killed one of them--at least the poor man died in the course of a few hours. I always regretted that I did not obtain and preserve his belt. At the back of it was the iron catch with which to hitch his wood-knife, and the tiger's tooth had grazed one side of the iron, and cut it as if one had worked at the iron with a steel file. Another instance too occurred of a tiger attacking a party, or at least one of a party which was approaching a tiger. Several tigers, it appeared, had been marked down, and the jungle in which they were was surrounded by nets. This was done in Mysore on the arrival of the Russian princes some years ago, but one of the tigers had managed to elude the shooters, and, as the native magistrate of the district was anxious to have it killed, a sporting photographer who was there undertook to look it up. As they approached the thicket in which the tiger was concealed the tiger rushed out with a sudden bound, aimed a blow with its paw at the leading native, tore his scalp right off and flung it on to a bush, bit the man in the arm, and retreated into the thicket with such suddenness that no one had time to fire. The poor man afterwards died. The great danger from following up wounded tigers on foot in the jungle arises from the extraordinary difficulty of seeing the animal when it is lying amongst dry fallen leaves, into which the body partially sinks, and this is more particularly the case if there is a flickering sunlight coming though the branches of the jungle trees. In one case of this kind, though I could see the tiger when it half raised itself up--it had been wounded in the back--I failed to pick it up the moment it sank back into the leaves; and my shikari told mo of another similar case he had seen when there was a similar flickering light. But even without that source of confusion to the sight a tiger is extremely difficult to see, as difficult as a hare in a ploughed field, or perhaps more so. On one occasion Rama Gouda said to me, when we were attacking a wounded tiger, or rather tigress in the jungle, "There is the tiger." "What!" I said, "that thing looking like a stone?" The light was bad. We both supposed it to be dead, but I said, "I suppose I had better take a shot at it," and did so, and, when the smoke cleared away, found that the tiger had removed. Then a native went forward and gently parted the reeds with his hands, and showed me the tigress--which had moved about twenty yards--on her side, and evidently in a dying condition. She was now only a few yards from me, and I fired at her, and she rolled over and died. As it happened, I do not think that I ran much risk, but one never can exactly tell how much