O. Henry Memorial Award Prize Stories of 1921

other when the beaters began to circle through the bamboos. "To carry a g

otice the curious imperturbability of her little son. But there was no orderly retreat after Little Shikara had heard the two reports of the rifle. At first there w

and beat up and down through the bamboos; and Warwick Sahib had surely been killed and carried off by the tigress. This dreadful story told, most of the vi

atest man of all time, and he felt himself burning with indignation that the beaters should return so soon. And it was a curious fact that he had not as yet been infected with the contagion of terror that was being passed from man to man among the villagers. Perhaps his indignation

g a glimpse of Nahara in the thickets until no one was left to tell it to. He was s

Didst thou look for his body bes

ough I passed withi

of jungle from which he might watch the eastern field? Some of you looked on the trail beside the

id he not

ve frightened Nahara from the body. But perhaps he

ry, and speedily forgot the boy. He hurried over

he asked, almost sobbing. "For

t thought of what thy elders had forgotten. There is level la

to-night,

! Wouldst thou have

irts of the throng. But the answer was nay-just the same. Even his brave father would n

If I go and return with word that he is there, wi

oar of laughter. "Why, thou little hawk! One woul

em would venture forth to see. Unknowing, he was beholding the expression of a certain age-old trait of human nature. Men do not fight ably in the dark. They need their eyes, and they particularly require a definite object to give them determination. If these villagers knew for certain that t

kara shared his own great dread of the night-curtained jungle. In this he was very badly mistaken. Little Shikara had an inborn understanding and love of the jungle; and except for such material dangers as that of Nahara, he was not afraid of it at all. He had no superstitions in regard to it. Perhaps he was

t the circle of villagers a

e could still see the flame of the fire at the village gate behind him, it was almost as if he had at once dropped off into ano

edge of the firelight; and then stand listening to the darkness for such impressions as the jungle would choose to give hi

first he was too happy to be afraid. He was always happy when the jungle closed round him. Besides, if Nahara had killed, she

age fire. It still made a bright yellow triangle in the dusk behind him. He didn't stop to think that he was doing a thing most grown natives and many white men would not have dared to do-to follow a jungle trail unarmed at night. If he had stopped to think at all he simply would have been unable t

ted, but always he pus

to the ford, clear to

d about with a li

gone out. The thick foliage o

nd hard and quite gray in the moonlight. But those far-off beams of light had been a solace to his spi

nt through the jungle silences he heard Warwick Sahib calling to his

r, in whose protection no harm could befall him, and he sped toward him because the distance was shorter than back to the haven of fire at the village. But those who could look deeper into Little Shika