Corbett set up two conditions before he set out on the trail of the tiger. First, all government rewards were to be withdrawn. Secondly, all specially appointed hunters were to be called back. The reasoning was simple–Corbett refused to be bracketed as yet another reward hunter and he didn’t want to deal with the additional danger of being accidentally shot by a fellow hunter. When the news came of a woman who fell prey to the beast in the village of Pali, Corbett set out for the village. After a journey of five days, he arrived at Pali in the evening via Dabidhura, a small village near Nainital.

Soon it was dark outside and while the rest of the villagers barricaded themselves in their houses, Corbett elected to sleep outside. He had hoped that it would give him a shot at the elusive beast, provided the beast doesn’t get to him first.

At night in the shade of the overhanging trees and moving branches, as the shadow danced, Corbett saw a dozen tigers approaching him. He immediately regretted his decision of staying out and felt paralyzed with fear. He woke up in a cold sweat and decided to stay awake the entire night. When dawn broke, his men found him with his head on his knees.

The fear and paranoia of the villagers were getting to his confidence. Days passed with no clue or hint about its whereabouts or where it would strike next. He needed the locals to show him around the jungle, but they were too afraid, and he was yet to win their confidence.

Corbett knew he needed to build trust with the locals. Without their cooperation, it would be nearly impossible to even track the tiger, much less kill it. He took a few men with him to hunt a mountain goat or ghooral, as it is called in the hills, for meat.

He sat opposite the slope of a hill, resting against a pine tree. High up the hill, a movement caught Corbett’s eye. He could make out the head of the ghooral while the rest of its body blended with the grass. Corbett signalled to his companions to stay put and then proceeded to lie down, taking the support of a pine root to position his old Martini-Henry rifle. He shot with dead accuracy and the ghooral was dead instantly.

Its body began to roll down the hill which alarmed yet another ghooral and it began to move, only to be immediately shot down by Corbett. The villagers watched in amazement for this was the first time they had seen a clean hunt with a rifle. The story of Corbett’s hunt soon reached the village and its telling and retelling sent out a wave of excitement among the terrified villagers. Corbett’s presence was beginning to put a new heart into the people. They started moving more freely.

Corbett had regained his confidence, but he still knew nothing about the beast he was hunting. He knew the next step was a thorough investigation of the site of the latest kill of the tiger. And he hoped that villagers would be less reluctant to guide him now.