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Updated: May 6, 2025
Moreover, the jemadar shared his tent with half a dozen other workmen, and one of his bedfellows had actually witnessed the occurrence. He graphically described how, at about midnight, the lion suddenly put its head in at the open tent door and seized Ungan Singh who happened to be nearest the opening by the throat.
The next moment he was gone, and his panic-stricken companions lay helpless, forced to listen to the terrible struggle which took place outside. Poor Ungan Singh must have died hard; but what chance had he? As a coolie gravely remarked, "Was he not fighting with a lion?"
This suspicion, however, was very soon dispelled. About three weeks after my arrival, I was roused one morning about daybreak and told that one of my jemadars, a fine powerful Sikh named Ungan Singh, had been seized in his tent during the night, and dragged off and eaten.
I little knew the trouble that was in store for me, or how narrow were to be my own escapes from sharing poor Ungan Singh's fate. That same night I sat up in a tree close to the late jemadar's tent, hoping that the lions would return to it for another victim.
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