A JACKAL-STORY. [To THE EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR."] Sin,—The character
of the jackal has never stood high, and has been still further—and, I am inclined to think, a little unfairly—depreciated by the role assigned to Tabaqui in Mr. R. Kipling's delightful "Jungle Books." Perhaps you can find room for a story to his credit. I was out in camp in India a good many years ago, and was riding a march one morning accompanied by three young greyhounds. Passing through a patch of scrub-jungle we came upon a jackal. The dogs gave chase, rather against my will, for jackal-hunting with greyhounds is poor sport ; but they had a long start of me, and I could not get them off. When I came up they had pulled down the jackal after a short run, and were worrying him. But two other jackals had come out of the jungle, and were trying to effect a diversion in favour of their unlucky fellow by nipping the greyhounds from behind. The dogs turned round and drove them off, and then went back to their prey. This was repeated two or three times, and it was not until I was quite close that the relieving force finally retreated. I was too late to rescue the victim, and all I could do for him was to put him quickly out of pain. But I have always felt a certain regard for jackals ever since, and hope that you, as a lover of animals, will welcome this little bit of evidence in favour of a somewhat maligned species.—
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