"When I was returning," writes my friend Mr. Brooke Mockett, "one day in the beginning of the monsoon of 1891, from visiting a plantation of mine near the Ghauts, I deflected somewhat from my route to visit an adjacent range of minor hills, and presently entered a shallow valley, on the opposite side of which the forest land was fringed with some scrubby bushes mingled with ferns, outside of which was a stretch of open grass land. As I entered the valley I saw on the opposite side of it a solitary bull bison grazing along towards the open grass land. This, at the rate he was moving, he would soon reach. I therefore took up a position so as to get a shot at him when he got fairly into the open land, where he would be immediately below and opposite to me. Two Hindoo ryots--always called goudas in Manjarabad--from a neighbouring village were with me, and were keeping a sharp look out. We were all quite concealed in the long grass. Presently one of them whispered, 'Look, look, there is a tiger stalking the bison,' and, after peering into the bushes for a few seconds, I at last made out the tiger, which was about 200 yards further along the valley to the east of the bison, towards which it was stealthily creeping. I at once decided not to interfere at present, but to leave the animals alone and watch the result. The tiger struck me as being a small one, and the goudas thought so too. It was probably the same one that had some weeks before killed a three-parts-grown bison, the remains of which we saw when on the way to the spot. The bull was a magnificent animal, and just in his prime. It was a most exciting scene; the ponderous bull grazing quietly along the valley in utter ignorance of danger, and feeding so industriously that he never once lifted his head from the ground, while the tiger crawled towards him in a manner that was exquisite to see. Belly to the ground, its movements resembled rather those of a snake than an animal as it wound its way through the scrub, gliding through the ferns, and taking advantage of all the bushes. Occasionally it sat up to peer cautiously at the bull, and then sinking down it again glided on. Except now and then, when the bushes were low, I doubt if it could see the bull, nor could the latter scent the tiger, for the bull was feeding down the valley in the teeth of the strong monsoon winds, and the tiger was following in its tracks.