Evening star., 1923-07-29

ged his shoulders. drank another pint
of vim rouge. and asked quietly:
"where does that tiger live?"
repressed a chuckle. He reminded
me somehow Of the mouse that fell
into a rum barrel, and climbed out
to inquire. where's that cat that's
lookin' for me?"
But Henri meant business. He call
ed for his tiger gun. 1t seems that
he carried regular arsenal, one gun
for elephants, one gun for rhinoceroses.
one gun for tigers. one gun for birds,
as many as a dozen. Repressing my
impulse to ask him what he'd do IL
an elephant chased him while he had
the rhinoceros gun, 1 followed him
into the jungle, as did the rest of the
villagers and servants, to witness the
thrilling encounter.
The natives led us through a thicket
of wild cane, and indicated a cave
halfway up hundred-foot cliff.
How any tiger ever reached 1t with
out wings was more than / could
imagine, but Henri asked no questions.
Straight up the cliff he went. The
cliff itself went straight up, with only
a few spongy-looking holes where the
limestone had crumbled. and which
afforded but a poor foothold. Henri
climbed with toes and fingers, but he
went.
TT was a ridiculous thing to do, but
i I couldn't stand below and watch a
little dude like Henri fight the tiger
alone. So up I started after him. 1t
was not an easy climb. We would
set half way up to the cave, only to
discover that we must retrace our
steps and ascend by another route. I
slipped and fell, dug my nails into
another crevice, and kept on climbing.
1t was America versus France, and
the little Frenchman kept on going,
and I was forced to follow him. He
found his rife an impediment, and
left it behind. trying again with only
a small revolver.
Personally, 1 was not enthusiastic
about facing the tiger with only that
small weapon, but Henri was digging
his toes into the cliff, and pulling
himself from ledge to ledge above
me, and up 1 went again. And finally.
when I could get no farther, Henri
reached the top-not only reached 1t,
but offered me his hand and pulled
me after him-and when struggled
over the edge. disheveled and covered
with dirt, there he stood, as neat and
Ixy nj frt r N q
his nails with q manicure set which
he always carried in his pocket.
And, much to my relief, the tiger
was not at home.
Henri led the way back to town,
seated himself beneath his awning.
and opened bottle Of champagne.
But I looked at him now as / had
looked at those scarlet-trousered
French officers after seeing them
march debonairely into Verdun. Henri
was a He-Man.
And in spite of the luxuries which
Henri provided, the journey was by
no means picnic.
We ascended steadily from the
swampy lake region of central Cam
bodia into a country that grew dryer
and dustier. The parched Jungle
growth became wilder, the thatched
villages less frequent. 1t was hot,
fatiguing hike for every one con-
cerned. Even the dogs, at the end OF
a days march, would stretch out fiat
upon their backs in a most un-dog1
like posture, their feet pointing sky
ward. their tongues hanging from
their painting mouths. Onoe buff
falo fell in its tracks in an epfleptic
At, frothing at the mouth.
We arrived at a government shelter.
whera the native servants shining