of long rank grass for a sight of the striped skin, writhing through the reeds, that we so longed to see, when the quick, short crack of a rifle away to the right brought us to a halt, and every one drew a long breath and turned, gun in hand, in the direction whence the sound had come.  It was Kildare; he had met his first tiger, and the first also of the hunt.  He had put up the animal not five paces in front of him, stealing along in the cool grass and hoping to escape between the elephants, in the cunning way they often do.  He had fired a snap shot too quickly, inflicting a wound in the flank which only served to rouse the tiger to madness.  With a leap that seemed to raise its body perpendicularly from the ground, the gorgeous creature flew into the air and settled right on the head of Kildare’s elephant, while the terrified mahout wound himself round the howdah.  It would have been a trying position for the oldest sportsman, but to be brought into such terrific encounter at arm’s length, almost, at one’s very first experience of the chase, was a terrible test of nerve.  Those who were near said that in that awful moment Kildare never changed colour.  The elephant plunged wildly in his efforts to shake off the beast from his head, but Kildare had seized his second gun the moment he had discharged the first, and aiming for one second only, as the tossing head and neck of the tusker brought the gigantic cat opposite him, fired again.  The fearful claws, driven deep and sure into the thick hide of the poor elephant, relaxed their hold, the beautiful lithe limbs straightened by their own perpendicular weight, and the first prize of the day dropped to the ground like lead, dead, shot through the head.

A great yell of triumph arose all along the line, and the little mahout crept cautiously back from his lurking-place behind the howdah to see if the coast were clear.  Kildare had behaved splendidly, and shouts of congratulation reached his ears from all sides.  Miss Westonhaugh waved her handkerchief in token of approbation, every one applauded, and far away to the left Isaacs, who was in the last howdah, clapped his hands vigorously, and seat his high clear voice ringing like a trumpet down the line.

“Well done, Kildare! well done, indeed!” and his rival’s praise was not the least grateful to Lord Steepleton on that day.  Meanwhile the shikarries gathered around the fallen beast.  It proved to be a young tigress some eight feet long, and the clean bright coat showed that she was no man-eater.  So the pad elephant came alongside, to use a nautical phrase not inappropriate, and kneeling down received its burden willingly, well knowing that the slain beauty was one of his deadly foes.  The mahout pronounced the elephant on which Kildare was mounted able to proceed, and only a few huge drops of blood marked where the tigress had kept her hold.  We moved on again, beating the jungle, wheeling and doubling the long line, wherever it seemed likely that some