“This looks a likely enough place,” said Algy, with the confidence of a man who had been after tiger for years. “But, I say, Nuddoo, where’s the chap with the buffalo--where is our tie-up?” “Buffalo never started yet--plenty time--coming by-and-by, at moonrise,” stammered Nuddoo; and, as I climbed into the machan, and he took his place next me, with our rifles, it struck me that Nuddoo was not sober. He smelt powerfully of raw whisky--our whisky--his lips were cracked and dry, and his hand shook visibly. What had he been doing? “It will be an awful sell if there is no tie-up, and the tiger happens to go by,” said Algy, irritably. “The gara will be here without fail, your honour’s worship. It will be all right, I swear it by the head of my son. Moreover, we will get the tiger--to-night he touches his last hour.” There was no question that Nuddoo, for the first time in my experience, was very drunk indeed. Presently the full moon rose up and illuminated the lonely landscape, the haunted jungle, the crops, the glade, and turned the forest stream to molten silver. It was nine o’clock, and, whilst Nuddoo slumbered, Algy and I held our breath, as we watched a noble sambur stag come and drink below us. He was succeeded by an old boar, next came a hyena; it was a popular resort; in short, every animal appeared but the one we wanted--and _he_ was undoubtedly in the neighbourhood, for the deer seemed uneasy. It was already after ten, and Algy was naturally impatient, and eagerly looking out for our devoted “gara.” He and I were bending forward, listening anxiously; the forest behind us seemed full of stealthy noises, but we strained our ears in vain for the longed-for sound of buffalo hoofs advancing from the front. Nuddoo still slept soundly, and at last Algy, in great exasperation, leant over and shook him roughly. “Ay,” he muttered, in a sleepy grunt, “it is all right, sahib, the gara will come without fail.” Even whilst he spoke, we heard, not fifty yards away, the voice of a woman singing in the glade, and Nuddoo now started up erect, and began to tremble violently. It was light as day, as we beheld Sassi advancing slowly in our direction, singing in a loud clear voice an invocation to Mahadeo the Destroyer! When she had approached within earshot she halted, and, raising her statuesque face to her namesake the moon, chanted-- “O great lords in the pepul tree, whereto Nuddoo, the drunkard, hath led you, Behold, according to my promise, lo! I have come. I sing to my gods, and perchance I will bring the tiger to your honours’ feet.” For the space of three heart-beats, we remained motionless--paralyzed with horror,--and then Nuddoo, who was gibbering with most mysterious terror, gave me a sudden and an involuntary push.