Thinking about his plans, he met the villager waiting for him on the rock. The villager was relieved to see him too. Returning to the village, Corbett stopped in his tracks to take a good look at his surroundings. He sat on the southern edge of a towering arena of hills. A stream from the west had made its way down east and its course cut a deep valley. Further east, the stream had hit solid rock and turned north, leaving a narrow gorge. Corbett theorized that if he stationed men across the entire length of the ridge from the stream to the hill and got them to stir up the tigress, she would have little choice but to retreat through the narrow gorge. This would give him the advantage of a clear line of vision. It was an arduous task, but if planned carefully and executed with a cool head, not an impossible one. Corbett met up with the Tahsildar in the village and explained the entire plan. He asked him to rally as many men as possible for the following day. The next day, almost a hundred men had collected, brandishing weapons, arms and drums, and anything they could find. Corbett led them to the edge of the cliff where the girl’s blood-soaked skirt was still there. From there he asked them to line themselves up along the ridge. He instructed them to start beating drums and firing their arms as soon as they spotted his signal. Then the Tahsildar and Corbett began to descend a steep slope. When they were still making their way down, due to a misunderstanding, the villagers began to fire their guns and make a great shout. Corbett, still a hundred and fifty yards away from the gorge, rushed to reach a better spot.

Hearing three shots, the villagers assumed that the tigress had died and let out a final cry. Corbett, on the other hand, was wondering what fresh hell would break loose on the ridge should the tigress decide to reveal herself on the hill.

The tigress emerged from the left front, striding straight towards the gorge. Corbett took a shot and she stopped in her tracks. She half turned towards Corbett, giving him a chance to take a second shot.

Despite two shots, the tigress continued, baring her teeth while Corbett had just run out of bullets. With adrenaline rushing in his veins, he began to think about what he would do if the tigress decided to charge toward him. However, very slowly the tigress crossed the stream and climbed up a few rocks to where they joined the cliff and started moving towards a flat rock projecting out of the cliff. Throwing caution to the wind, Corbett ran up the hill, where the Tehsildar had remained frozen, and picked up his gun.

As he made his way back towards the stream, the tigress also left the bush and came on the rock towards him. When he was within twenty feet of the tigress, he raised his gun and to his horror found a crucial part jammed. There now was a risk of being blinded by the blowback, but it was a risk that he had to take. He set his aim and took a shot for the tigress’ mouth, but the gun wobbled and the bullet hit its right paw.

The tigress staggered for a few steps and then dropped dead. The beast of Champavat had finally been bested.

As soon as it was confirmed that the tigress was dead, the hill echoed with calls of violence borne out of contempt and fear. The hate of the villagers spilt over in cries of hacking the tiger to bits! It was madness revealed and for a moment Corbett couldn’t believe the savageness that was resonating across the hills. But fortunately, the madness died down by the time the crowd reached downhill.

A close inspection of the tigress revealed that she had a permanent injury in her teeth which prevented her from killing her natural prey. This was the reason why the tigress had become a man-eater. The village gathered over to see the dead body of the beast that had haunted their hills. Corbett had proven his mettle and lived up to the expectations of both his friend Berthoud and the villagers. The tigress of Champavat, an elusive and magnificent beast, was the first kill in a long list of man-eaters that he would track and kill over his lifetime.

After a few days, Corbett took his leave from the villagers of Champavat. With the skin of the tigress strapped to the saddle of his horse, he moved towards Pali. He decided to visit the woman who had lost her voice a year ago, as she ran from the tigress. Unmounting his horse and taking the skin of the tiger he climbed the hill and spread it in front of the woman’s house.

Villagers and children gathered to see what the sahib had brought. Soon the girl came out and saw the skin of the beast that had killed her sister. This woman, who had not spoken in over a year out of shock and terror, was finally set free of her fear. After a year of death and dread, this mute woman finally broke her deafening silence. She spoke.