There was no limit to the mischievous devilry of that pony. When poor Mrs. F. rode out with the rest of the station, her troubles were even greater. When her companions suggested a gallop, "John" wilfully assumed his slowest walk; and when everyone was riding slowly and conversing pleasantly together, the poor lady would suddenly, without any apparent reason, break off in the middle of a sentence, and set off at the wildest gallop through the jungle, or turn round and ride furiously for home. Nothing would induce her to confess that she could not manage her pony, so she was obliged to invent the wildest excuses and explanations for her conduct. Others thought it was her eccentricity, but we knew it was "John."
In Burmah the Tiger story takes the place occupied by the fish story in this country, and is stamped, I suspect, with the same unblushing characteristics. Judging from the tiger stories I heard, I could come to no other conclusion than that the Anglo-Indian is possessed of amazing nerve and ingenuity (qualities useful to him alike in the exploit and in the telling of it), and I heard him with ever increasing interest and wonder. The tiger is the favourite theme, though he is but of small account whose chronicle does not also embrace some experiences in the pursuit of the elephant, the bear and other fearful wildfowl indigenous to the country.
Most men own to being a little chary about elephant hunting I found, but our friend the Policeman appeared to have shot them like snipe. At first I was rather inclined to make light of elephant shooting, they are such exceedingly large animals that I thought even I could hardly fail to bag one if I got him broadside on; but the Policeman set me right on that point.
From his explanation, I gathered that the elephant is invulnerable save only in one vital part, a spot behind the ear, and the sportsman (according to my narrator) must be as dead on that spot as "Homocea."
My informant also told me terrible stories of how the elephant will turn on his pursuer and trample on him, or tear him in pieces with his tusks, and he gave me further such blood-curdling descriptions of the terrifying noise made by an approaching herd of elephants crashing through the jungle, and trumpeting in their rage, that I felt devoutly thankful that I was visiting this particular district. The wild elephants of the neighbouring jungle, in their almost human intelligence, recognised the danger to themselves of conduct other than the most retiring and unprovocative character in a locality where the peace was preserved by such an ever threatening Nemesis as our Policeman.