He wasn’t in a hurry. His shoulders and legs hurt. The arthritis was worse than usual this morning and he was hungry. And he was too old and tough to be scared of anything.
Fresh pugs led toward the lake_ The Thai guide, Quat, had found them an hour or so earlier. He laid his hand in one of the paw marks. The perimeters of the print were a good inch or two greater than the hand.
‘Cat’s on the prowl,’ Early told the hunters. ‘I sent a man on down to the village. The townsfolk will stay inside until this is over.’
‘What do you think?’ Earp asked.
‘Wind’s shifting,’ Early said, sniffing at the air like an animal. ‘If he gets downwind of us he could make a real chase out of this.’
Max Early stared from under the sagging brim of a khaki safari hat. He was a little under six feet tall with thick brown hair and a full beard. His khaki tank top clung tightly to a hard, muscular body, and he had thick, hard legs that strained his tennis shorts. His body was tanned and his beard bleached out by the relentless tropical sun.
He squatted down and, with a stick, sketched out a crude map in the dirt. The group gathered around, drinking beer and smoking and staring over his shoulder at the scribbling in the sand. Re explained the area to the hunters.
At the top of the map was their encampment, and at the bottom left, south and east of the camp was the lake and the village. Between the camp and the lake were two miles of jungle, which stretched east and west for about a mile. Toward the bottom of the map and west of the lake was a broad plain perhaps half a mile square. It was the danger spot, Early explained. At its edge was a bamboo thicket about fifty to seventy-five yards wide that twisted from the lake to the fields. The bamboo was fifteen to twenty feet high and very dense. Between it and the jungle there was a stretch of short buffalo grass followed by two hundred yards of tall elephant grass, which Early said was eight to ten feet high. The short buffalo grass and the elephant grass and bamboo were all handy hiding places for the big cat. Beyond the village and west of the thickets were cultivated fields.
‘We’re looking at roughly four square miles of brush and tree bays,’ Early said. ‘Just remember, he can climb a tree, burrow into a stump, lie absolutely motionless for hours in the tall grass —,
‘Is he likely to attack a man?’ interrupted a nervous Wonderboy.
‘He’s already eaten three — size isn’t going to stop him.’
‘How big we talking about here?’ Gallagher asked.
‘Upwards of five hundred pounds from the look of him and his pug size,’ Early answered. ‘Also he’s blind in his right eye and maybe little arthritic, which means he’s got a nasty temper in addition to being pissed off and on the run.’
‘Great,’ groaned Riker, peeling off his shirt. He was powerfully built, a hairy man with several scars streaking his belly and lower ribs. He slipped on a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses.
‘Just what the hell does all that add up to?’ he asked.
‘Five hundred pounds of bad cat,’ said Earp with a big grin. ‘He gets a leg up on you, Riker, this picnic could turn into a funeral.’
As Early had explained the plan of attack, two of the hunters would ride each of the three elephants. They would be spaced about a hundred yards apart. What Early called his ‘noise boys’ would walk between the chaangs, yelling, beating on pans, shaking up the old cat and keeping him on the run. Hopefully Old Scar would run toward the hunters on the ground who were to shoot only if they had a clear target with nobody in the field of fire. The elephant riders would shoot only in an emergency.
‘When you get to the south perimeter, spread out about three hundred yards apart but close enough to keep each other in sight,’ Early had advised them. ‘When we start the drive south toward the village, move toward us. Get on the inside of the bamboo but stay in the short buffalo grass. Don’t get in that chaang grass, you get lost in those thickets, you’re lunch for the cat. Or one of us could accidentally pop you off. When you get a shot, go for his body. He’ll be moving, so go for the mass.’
‘Won’t the elephants run the cat off?’ Riker had asked.
‘Elephants don’t scare tigers,’ said Early. ‘In the wild, they tolerate each other. But I saw a cat jump a twelve-foot bull elephant once and tear off half his ear.’
‘Does anything scare a tiger?’ asked Corkscrew.
Early thought for a moment, then said, quite seriously, ‘Not that I can think of. This guy’s old. He appears to be blind in one eye and he’s hungry and he’s slowed down some, that’s why’ he’s turned man- eater. But he’s smart, don’t kid yourself, and spookier than a pregnant cobra.’
‘In other words, unpredictable.’
‘Totally.’
They had drawn cards to see who would ride elephants and who would be the shooters on the ground. Melinda and Johnny Prophett were on one beast with a driver, W. T. and Early shared a second, and Gallagher and Riker rode the third. Potter, Wonderboy, Corkscrew and Hatch would be on foot.
As they piled in the van, Earp tossed Hatcher a half-smile.
‘Good luck, soldier,’ he said.
‘Same to you.’
The old van rattled across the lush and fertile South Thailand landscape. Breathtaking green fields bloomed on both sides of the road and fruit trees speckled the uneven countryside. There was a sense of endeavor and hard work about the area, probably because of the powerful beasts that worked the land. Domestic elephants were almost as prevalent as water buffalo. There was also a lot of places for the tiger to hide.
Hatcher checked the 375 H&H Early had loaned him, saying, ‘Kicks like a mule, but it’ll drop an elephant straight on his ass from two hundred yards.’
They drove the two miles across non-roads. In the midmorning sun, the village lay deserted. The doors of the hooches and thatched huts were closed. Wonderboy huddled up against the side of the van, clutching his rifle as though he were afraid it was going to fly away. Sweat streaked the strange black and white paint on his face. Hatcher could see the twisted burn-scarred skin beneath the makeup. He could almost smell Wonderboy’s fear.
‘Don’t worry, kid,’ Hatcher said. ‘I’ll keep an eye on you.’
‘I’m okay,’ the musician mumbled.
The four men spread out along the back end of the broad grassy area west of the lake but close enough to keep one another in view. Corkscrew and Potter were at one end of the stretch, Wonderboy and Hatcher at the other. They were in the open and the sun blazed down on them. Hatcher broke out in a sweat when he got out of the van.
Ahead of Hatcher was the thick wide stand of fifteen-foot-high bamboo. Through the cramped stalks, Hatcher could barely make out the short grass that stood waist-high on the other side of the bamboo stand.
The only sound was the buzzing of flies and insects. Not a bird twittered and the wind was barely more than a sigh, occasionally stirring the grass. Hatcher put on his sunglasses and walked cautiously along the edge of the bamboo, stopping every few feet to listen and look.
He was not far into the field when he heard the noise boys start their serenade. It was far away. Occasionally one of the elephants would add its voice to the chorus.
Hatcher looked to his left at Wonderboy, a small figure moving cautiously parallel to the bamboo thicket. The noise got louder as he approached the bamboo stand. He looked back at Wonderboy. The kid was standing in front of the towering stalks of bamboo, looking up at them in obvious wonderment.
Not paying attention, thought Hatcher, and subconsciously he began to walk toward Wonderboy.