A loud signal from a treed scout suddenly tells us my tiger is
located. Relentlessly, foot by foot, the man-eater is tracked. We are
guided always by the scouts in the trees; for that terrible
bamboo-like grass swallows even elephants, swaying noisily to their
moving bulk. At length we emerge in a little clearing; and even as we
glance around, the stalks part harshly, and the tiger leaps forth at
an unarmed beater, burying fangs in a soundless throat. An awful
sight!

A dozen rifles roar too late to save the poor wretch. We pick up
victim and tiger and heave them on a pad-elephant. And then back to
camp.

[Illustration]




THE RADICAL JUDGE

BY ANITA FITCH

ILLUSTRATIONS BY ARTHUR G. DOVE


Often when, arm in arm with black Double-headed Pete, the Radical
Judge went by the paling fence, Hope Carolina said to herself:

"W'en he comes all lonely, jus' by his own self, I'll frow a rock at
him. Yes, sholy!"