CHAPTER 1. Pigs Daring Courage, Manhood's Fire, Firm Seat and Eagle Eye, Must He Acquire Who Doth Aspire, To See the Grey Boar Die? Indian Pig-Stickling Song Mrs. Norton looked contently at her image in the long mirror which reflected a graceful figure in a well-cut grey habit and smart long brown boots, a pretty face and wavy auburn hair under the sun helmet. Then, turning away and picking up her whip, she left the dressing room and, passing the door of her husband's bedroom where he lay still sleeping, descended the broad marble staircase of the residency to the lofty hall, where an Indian servant in a long red coat hurried to open the door of the dining room for her. Almost at that moment, a mile away Raymond, the adjunct of the 180th Punjab Infantry, looked at his watch and called out loudly, hurry up or grave, it's four o'clock and the ponies will be round in ten minutes and it's a long ride to the palace. He was seated at a table on the veranda of the bungalow which he shared with his brother Sub-Ultron in the small military cantonment near Rohar, the capital of the NATO state of Mandha in the west of India. Dawn had not yet come and by the light of an oil lamp Raymond was eating a frugal breakfast of tea, toast and fruit, the chota harzi or light meal with which Europeans in the east begin the day. He was dressed in an old shooting jacket, breeches and boots, and as he ate his eyes turned frequently to a bundle of steel-headed bamboo spears leaning against the wall near him, for he and his companion were going as the guests of the Marhar of Mandha for a day's pig-stickling as hunting the wild boar is termed in India. He had finished his meal and lit a churrut before war gave came yawning on to the veranda. Sorry for being so lazy, old chap, said the newcomer, but a year's leave in England gets one out of the habit of early rising. He pulled up a chair to the table on which his white-clad muscleman-servant, who had come up the front steps of the veranda, laid a tray with his tea and toast, and while he ate, Raymond lay back smoking in a long chair and looked almost affectionately at him. They had been friends since their sander's days, and during the past twelve months of his comrade's absence on furlong in Europe, the adjunct had sorely missed his cheery companionship, nor was he the only one in their regiment who had. Frank Wargrave was almost universally light by both men and women, and while unspoilt by popularity, thoroughly deserved it. He was about twenty-six years of age, above medium height, with a lithe and graceful figure, which the riding costume that he was wearing well set off. Fear-heared and blue-eyed, with good, though irregular features, he was pleasant-faced and attractive rather than handsome. The cheerful, good-tempered manor that he displayed even at that trying early hour was a true indication of a happy and light-hearted disposition that made him as light by his brother officers as by other men who did not know him so well. In his regiment all the native ranks adored the young sahib, who was always kind and considerate, though just to them, and looked more closely after their interests than he did his own. For, like most young officers in the Indian army, he was seldom out of debt, but soldierly hospitality and a hand ever ready to help a friend in want were the causes rather than deliberate extravagance on his own account. Taking life easily and never worrying over his own troubles, he was always generous and sympathetic to others, and prompter to take up cudgels on their behalf than on his own. His being a good sportsman and a smart soldier added to his popularity among men, while all women were partial to the pleasant courteous subaltern whom they felt to have a chivalrous regard and respect for them and who was as polite and attentive to an old lady as he was to the prettiest girl. While admiring and liking the other sex, Wargrave had hitherto been too absorbed in sport, and his profession to have ever found time to lose his heart to any particular member of it, while his innate respect for and high ideal of womankind had preserved him from unworthy intrigues with those ready to meet him more than halfway. Even in the idleness of the years furlong in England, from which he had returned the previous day, he had remained heart whole, although several charming girls had been ready to share his lot, and more than one pretty pirate had sought to make him her prize. But he had been blind to them all, for he was too free from conceit to believe that any woman would concern herself with him unasked. He had dined and danced with maid and young matron in London, ridden with them in the row and Richmond Park, punted them down backwaters by goring, pang-borne, and the cleaved-in-woods, and flirted harmlessly with them in country houses after days with the corn and the pitch-stley, and yet come back to India true to his one love, his regiment. As Raymond watched him, the fear of the feminine dangers in England for his friends suddenly pricked, and he blurted out anxiously, I say, O chap, you haven't got tangled up with any women at home, have you? Not got engaged or any silly thing like that, I hope? War grave laughed. No fear, O boy, he replied, pouring out another cup of tea, far too hard to think of such an expensive luxury as a wife, being too busy, too, to see much of a particular girl. You had some decent sport, hadn't you? asked his friend, with a feeling of relief in his heart. Rather, I told you I'd learnt to fly and got my pilot certificate, for one thing, good fun flying, I wish I could afford a bus of my own. Then I had some yachting on the solent and a lot of boating on the Thames. I put in a month in Switzerland, skiing and skating. Did you get any hunting? Yes, at my uncle's near Desford in Lake Kutcher. He gave me some shooting, too. It was all very well, but I was very envious when the regiment came here, and you wrote and told me of the pig sticking you were getting. I've always longed for it. It's great sport, isn't it? The best I know, cried Raymond enthusiastically, beats hunting hollow.  It must be ripping. I do hope we'll have the luck to find plenty of pig today. Oh, we're sure to. The maharjah told me yesterday they have marked down a sounder that is a herd of wild pig in a ma, about seven miles the other side of the city, which is two miles away. So we have a ride of nine to the meat. That will make it a very hard day for our ponies, won't it? As for grave anxiously, 18 miles there and back and the runs as well. Oh, that's all right. The maharjah mounts us at the meat. We'll find his horses waiting there for us. Raw bone beasts with mouths like iron as a rule, but good goers and staunch to pig. By Jove, the maharjah must be a real good chap. One of the best replied Raymond. He is a man for whom I've the greatest admiration. He rules his state admirably. He commanded his own imperial service regiment in the war, and did splendidly. He is very good to us here. So it seems, from what I gathered at mess last night, he appears to provide all our sport for us. Yes, he arranges his shoots and the pig-sticking meats for days on which the officers of the regiment are free to go out with him. When we can travel by road, he sends for carriages for us, lends us horses and his camels to follow us with lunch, ice, and drinks wherever we go. What a good fellow he must be. Exclaimed Wargrave, I am glad we get pig-sticking here. I've always longed for it, but never have been anywhere before where there was any, as you know. It's lucky for us that the sport here is good, for without it, life in Rohar would be too awful to contemplate. It's the last place the Lord made. It's the hardest place to reach I've ever known, said Wargrave. It was a shock to learn that, after forty-eight hours in the train, I had two more days to travel after leaving the railway. How did you like that forty miles in a camel train over the salt desert?  It was awful. The heat and glare off the sand nearly killed me. You say there is no society here? Society? The only Europeans here or in the whole state, besides those of us in the regiment, are the resident and his wife. What is a resident exactly? A political officer appointed by the government of India to be a sort of advisor to Ahraja and to keep a check on him if he rules his state badly. I shouldn't imagine that our fellow here, Major Norton, would be much good as an advisor to anybody. The only thing he seems to know anything about is insects. He's quite a famous entomologist. Personally, he is not a bad sort, but a bit of a bore. What is his wife like? Oh, very different. Much younger and fond of Gayati, I think. Not that she can get any here. She's a decidedly pretty woman. I haven't seen much of her, for she has been away most of the time. That the regiment has been here. She has relatives in Calcutta and stays a lot with them. I don't blame her, said war grave laughing. Roe here must be a very deadly place for a young woman. No amusements, no dances, no shops, and the only female society, the wives of the colonel and the doctor. Luckily for Mrs. Norton, she is rather keen on sport and a good rider.  I promise to take her shooting with us the next time we go. Hello. Here are the ponies at last. Are you ready, Frank? The two officers rose as their seeks or native grooms came up before the bungalow leading to ponies, a whaler and an Arab. Raymond walked over to the bundle of spears and selected one with a leaf-shaped steel head. Try this, Frank, he said. See if it suits you. You don't want too long a spear. His companion balanced it on his hand. Yes, it seems all right, I say, old chap. How does one go for the pig? Do you thrust at him? No, just ride hard at him with the spear pointed and held with stiffen arm. Your impetus will drive the steel well home into him. Mounting their ponies they started, the cease, carrying the spears and following them at a steady run as they trotted down the sandy road leading to the city, where at the palace they were to meet the Marajah and other sportsmen. The sky was peeling fast at the coming of the dawn, and they could discern the dozen bungalows and the regimental lines or barracks, comprising the little cantamount. Above which towered the dark mass of a rocky hill, crowned by the ruined walls of an old native fort. On either side of their route the country was flat and at first barren, but as they neared the capital they passed through cultivation and rode by green fields irrigated from deep wells, by hamlets of palm-thatched mud huts where no one yet stirred, and on to where the high embrasured walls of the city rode above the plain. Under the vaulted arch of the old gateway the ponies clattered, along through the narrow silent streets of gaily painted wooden balcony houses. At that hour closely shuttered, until the palace was reached as the rising sun began to flush the sky with rose-pink. The guard of sepoys at the great gate saluted as the two officers rode into the wide paved courtyard lined by the high mini-windowed buildings. In the center of it a group of horsemen, nobles of the state or officials of the palace, engaged dresses and bright-colored pudries or turbans with gold or silver-hilted swords hanging from their belts sat on their restless animals behind the maharjah, a pleasant-face athletic man in a white flannel coat, riding breeches and long, soft leather boots, mounted on a tall whaler-gelding. He was chatting with four or five other officers of the Punjabis and raised his hand to his forehead as the newcomers rode up and lifted their hats to him. Good morning, Your Highness, said Raymond. I hope we're not too late. Let me present Mr. Wargrave of our regiment, who has just returned from England, with a genial smile the maharjah lent forward and held out his hand. I'm glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Wargrave, he said, and very pleased to see you out with us today. Are you fond of pig-stickling? I've never had the chance of doing any before, Your Highness, replied Frank, shaking his hand. I'm awfully anxious to try it, but, being a novice, I'm afraid I'll only be in the way. I'm sure you won't, said the maharjah. Curiously, his command of English was perfect. Pig-stickling is not at all difficult, and I hear that you are a good rider. He looked at his watch, and then, turning in the saddle, addressed another officer of the regiment who was shaping Raymond for being late. Are we all here now, Captain Ross? Yes, sir.  Very well, gentlemen, we'll start. He waved his hand and, at the signal, two black-bearded sowars, or soldiers of his cavalry regiment, dashed by him and out through the palace gates at a hard gallop, leading the way past the guard who turned out and presented arms as the maharjah, and the British officers together with the crowd of nobles, officials, and mounted attendants, followed at a smart pace. The city was now waking to life. From their windows, the sleepy inhabitants stared at the party, mostly too stupefied at that hour to recognize and salute their ruler. Potbelly naked brown babies waddled on to the verandas to gaze thumb in mouth at the riders. Pariah dogs, nosing at the gutters, and rubbish heaps that scented the air bolted out of the way of the horses hooves. As the sportsmen passed out of the city gates, the sun was rising above the horizon, the terrible hot weather sun of India, whose advent ushers in the long hours of gasping breathless heat. For a mile or so the root lay through fertile gardens and fields, then suddenly the cultivation ended abruptly on the edge of a sandy desert that, seamed with mulas, or deep-sided ravines, and dotted with tall clumps of thorny cactus stretched away to the horizon. The road became a barely discernable track, but the two soars cantered on, confidently heading for the spot where the fresh horses awaited the party. Over the sand the riders swept, past a slow-plotting elephant lumbering back to the city with a lo of fodder, by groups of tethered camels. Hairs started up in alarm and bounded away, gray partridges word up, and yellow beet minnows flew off chattering indignantly. The slight morning coolness soon vanished, and war grave, soft and somewhat out of condition after his weeks of ship-board life, wiped his streaming face often before the guiding soars threw up their hands in warning and vanished slowly from sight as their sure-footed horses picked their way down a steep mulla. This was the ravine in which the quarry hid. One after another of the riders followed the leaders down the narrow track, trotted across the sandy rock-strewn riverbed, and climbed up the far side to where the fresh horses and a picturesque mob of wild-looking beaters stood awaiting them. Among the animals war grave noticed a smart gray Arab pony with a side saddle. I see Mrs. Norton in tents, coming out with us, observed the Maraja, looking at the pony. We must wait for her. It won't be long, sir, said Raymond, pointing to a rising trail of dust on the track by which they had come. I'll bet that is she. I'll turn to watch the approaching rider draw near, until they could see that it was a lady galloping furiously over the sand. By Joe she can ride, exclaimed Wargrave admiringly. I hope she'll see the mulla. She's heading straight for it. A shouted warning caused her to pull up almost on the brink, and in a few minutes she joined the waiting group. Wargrave looked with an interest at her, as she sat on her panting horse, talking to the Maraja and other officers who had dismounted. Mrs. Norton was a decidedly graceful and pretty woman. The rounded curves of her shapely figure were set off to a vantage by her riding costume. Her eyes were especially attractive. Greenish gray eyes fringed by long black lashes under curved dark brows, contrasting with the warm auburn tint of her hair that showed under her sun hat. Her complexion was dazzling fair.  Even from a man like Wargrave, fresh from England and consequently more inclined to be critical of female beauty than were his comrades, for many months had seen so few white women. Mrs. Norton's good looks could justly claim full mead of admiration and approval. Accepting Captain Ross's aid, she slipped lightly from her saddle to the ground, and on foot looked as graceful as she did when mounted. Raymond brought his friend to her and introduced him. Holding out a small and shapely hand in a deity leather gauntlet, she said in a frank and pleasant manner, How do you do, Mr. Wargrave? You are a fortunate person to have been in England so lately. I haven't seen it for nearly three years. Were you sorry to leave it? Not in the least, Mrs. Norton. I'd far sooner be doing this. He waved his hand towards the horses and the open desert, then fooling about Piccadilly and the park. Oh, but don't you miss the gateys of town, the theatres, the dances, and then the shops and the new fashions?  The Marajah broke in. Mrs. Norton, I think we'd better mount. The beaters are going in, and the Sherkas, hunters, tell me that the Nola swarms with pig. There are at least half dozen rideable boar in it.  Ross started forward to help Mrs. Norton on to her fresh pony, but Wargrave refused to surrender the advantage of his proximity to her. So it was into his hand she put her small foot in its well-made riding boot, and was swung up by him. The saddles of the rest of the party have been changed on the horses that the Marajah had provided. The beaters streamed down the steep bank into the ravine, which some distance away was filled with dense scrub affording good cover for the quarry. Forming line they moved through it with shrill yells, the blare of horns, the beating of tom-toms, and a spluttering fire of blank cartridges from old muskets. The riders mounted and spear in hand eagerly watched their progress through the jungle. Wargrave found himself beside Mrs. Norton, but after exchanging a few words he forgot her presence as, his heart beating fast with a true sportman's excitement, he strained his eyes for the first sight of a wild boar.  All eyes were turned towards the Marajah, who would decide whether the animal was worthy of pursuit or not. He gazed after it for a few moments, then raised his hand. At the welcome signal all dashed off after the boar at a furious gallop, opening out as they went to give play for their spears. Wild with excitement, Wargrave struck spurs to his horse, which needed no urging, being as filled with the lust of the chase as was the man on its back. Like a cavalry charge, the riders thundered in a mad rush behind his highness, whose faster mount carried him at once ahead of the rest. He soon overtook the boar, lowering his spear point the Marajah bent forward in the saddle, but at the last moment the pig jinked. That is, turned sharply at right angles to his former course, and bounded away untouched, while the baffled sportsman was carried on helplessly by his excited horse. Wargrave, following at some distance to the Marajah's right rear, saw to his mingled joy and trepidation the boar only a short way in front of him. Ride, ride hard, cried Mrs. Norton almost alongside him. Frank drove his spurs in, and the god-rob-browned country bread under him sprang forward. But just as it had all but reached the quarry, the latter janked again, and Wargrave was born on, tugging vainly at the horse's iron jaws. But the boar had short shrift. With a rush, Ross closed in on it, and before it could swerve off, sent his spear deep into its side, and, galloping on, turned his hand over, drawing out the lance. The pig was staggered by the shock, but started to run on. Before he could get up speed, one of the Indian nobles dashed at it with wild yells and speared it again. The thrust this time was mortal. The boar staggered on a few steps, then stubbled and fell heavily to the ground. The hunters reigned in their sweating horses and gathered round it. Not a big animal, commented the marja, scrutinizing it with the eye of an expert. About thirty-four inches high, I think, but the tusks are good. They're yours, Captain Ross, aren't they? Yes, your Highness, I think so, replied Ross. Pig-sticking law awards the trophy to the rider whose spear first inflicts a wound on the boar. Better luck next time, Mr. Wargrave, said Mrs. Norton, riding up to him. I thought you're sure of him when he jinked away from marja. To be quite candid, I was rather relieved I didn't get the chance, Mrs. Norton, replied the sub-varn. I've never been out after Pig before. I didn't quite know what to do. However, I see now that it isn't very difficult, so I hope I'll get an opportunity later. You are sure to, Mr. Wargrave, remarked the marja. There are several boars left in cover, and the men are going in again. The tattered Demalian mob of beaters was descending into the Nulla, and soon the wild din broke out once more. A gaunt gray boar with long and gleamy tusks was seen to emerge from the scrub and climb the far bank of the ravine, where he stood safely out of reach but in full view of the tantalized hunters. But a string of laden camels passed over the desert, scared him back again. And while the riders watched in eager excitement, he slowly descended into the Mulla, crossed it, and came up the near side some hundreds of yards away. The mara ja raised his spear. Ride, he cried. Go like the devil, Frank, cried, shouted Raymond, as the scurrying horsemen swept in a body over the sand, and he found himself for a moment beside his friend. He said, beauty, forty inches, I'll swear, splendid tusks. Wargrave couched, like a jockey in a saddle, as the riders raced madly after the boar. The Indians among them, wildly excited, brandished their lances and uttered fierce cries as they galloped along. Their mara ja's speedier amount again took the lead. But even in India's sport is democratic, and his nobles, attendants, and soldiers all tried to overtake and pass him. The white men, as is their wo'nt, rode in silence, but nonetheless keenly excited, over sand and stones, passed tall prickly cactus plants, in hot pursuit all flew at racing speed. It was a long chase, for the old gray boar was speedy, cunning, and a master of wiles. First one pursuer, then another, then a third and a fourth, found him almost upon the quarry, and bent down with outstretched ear-spear, only to be baffled by a swift jink, and carried on helplessly, pulling vainly at the reins. At length, a sudden turn throughout all the field, except the mara ja, who had foreseen it and ridden off to intercept the now tiring boar. Overtaking it, he bent forward and wounded it slightly. The brute instantly swung in upon his horse, and with a fierce grunt dashed under it and leapt up at it with a toss of the head that gave an upward thrust to the long curved tusk. In an instant, the horse was ripped open and brought crashing to the ground, pinning its rider's leg to the earth beneath it. The boar turned again, marked the prostrate man, and with a savage gleam in his eyes charged the mara ja, its gleaming ivory tusk six inches long, as sharp and deadly as an Aphrodite's knife. But at that moment a shout made the boar hesitate, and Raymond dashed in on it at racing speed, driving his spear so deeply into its side that, as he swept on, the tough bamboo broke like match wood. The stricken beast tottered forward a yard or two, then turned and stood undoubtedly at bay, as a sower rode at it. But before his steel could touch its hide, it shuddered and sank to the ground dead. The dying horse was lifted off the mara ja, who, with the courage of his race, had remained calm in the face of the onrushing death. He was assisted to rise, but was so severely shaken and bruised that at first he was unable to stand without support. Leaning on the arm of one of his nobles, he held out his hand to Raymond when the latter rode up and thanked him gratefully for his timidly act. Then the exhausted but gallant prince sat down on the sand to recover himself. But he assured everyone that he was not hurt, and, insisting that the sport should go on, gave orders for the beat to continue. Wargrave had chance to dismount, to tighten the girth of Mrs. Norton's horse, when a fresh bore broke from cover, and was instantly pursued by all the others of the hunt. The subaltern, ruefully accepted the lady's apologies, and hurriedly swung himself up into the saddle again to follow. When his companion cried, Look, look, Mr. Wargrave, there's another, come, we'll have him all to ourselves. And striking her pony with her gold-mounted whip, she dashed off at a gallop after a gray old bore that had craftily kept close in cover and crept out quietly after the beaters had passed. Wargrave, filled with excitement, struck spurs to his mount, and raced after her, soon catching up and passing her. Over the sand pitted with holes and strewn with loose stones as they raced. The bore bounded before them with rocking motion, and leading them in a long stern chase. Again and again, the beast swerved, but at last, with a fierce thrill, Wargrave felt the steel head of the spear strike home in the quarry. As he was carried on past it, he withdrew the weapon, then pulled his panting horse round. The bore was checked, but the wound only infuriated him and aroused his fighting ardor. He dashed at Mrs. Norton, but as Frank turned, the game brute recognized the more dangerous adversary, and with a fierce grunt, charged savagely at him. Wargrave plunged his spurs into his horse, which sprang forward, just clearing the bore's snout, as the rider lent well out and speared the pig through the heart. Then, with a wild exultant whoop, the subaltern swung round in the saddle and saw the animal totter forward and collapse on the sand. Only a sportsman could realize his feeling of triumph at the fall of his first bore. Mrs. Norton was almost as excited as he.  Well done, Mr. Wargrave, she cried, charting up to where he sat on his panting horse over the dead bore.  It was just luck, replied the subaltern modestly, not ill-pleased at her praise. What a glorious run he gave us, she continued, and we had it all to ourselves, which made it better.  Will you help me down, please? I must give Martian a rest after that gallop. With Wargrave's aid she dropped lightly to the ground, and he remarked again with admiration the graceful lines and rounded curves of her figure as she walked to the dead bore and touched the tusks.  The biggest anyone has got yet this season. I hope you allow me to offer them to you, said Wargrave generously, although it cost him a paying to surrender the precious toffee. You deserve them, for you rode so well after the bore, and I believe you had gotten, if you'd carried, a spear. No indeed, Mr. Wargrave, I wouldn't dream of taking them, she replied, laughing, but I appreciate the nobility of your self-denial. This is your first pig, and I know what that means to a man. Now we must find a sower to get the coolies to bring the bore in, but I wonder where we are? Where is everyone? Wargrave looked about him, and for the first time realized that they were far out in the desert without a landmark to guide them. On every side the sand stretched away to the horizon. Its flat expanse broken only by clumps of bristling cactus, or very rarely the tall stem of a palm tree. Of the others of the party there was no sign. His companion and he seemed to be alone in the world, and he began to wonder apprehensively if they were destined to undergo the unpleasant experience of being lost in the desert. The sun-high overhead afforded no help, and Wargrave remembered neither the direction of the city nor where lay the ravine in which the beat had taken place. You don't happen to know where we are, I suppose. Mrs. Norton, he asked his companion, I haven't the least idea. It looks as if we're lost, she replied calmly. We had better wait quietly where we are instead of wondering about trying to find our way. When we are missed, the Marjah will probably send somebody to look for us. I dare say you're right, said Wargrave. You know more about the desert than I do. By Jove, I'd give anything to come across the camel that Raymond tells me brings out drinks and ice. My throat is parched. Aren't you very thirsty? Terribly so. Isn't the heat awful? She exclaimed, trying to fan herself with the few inches of cambrick and lace that represented a hankerchief. Awful! The blood seems to be boiling in my head, gas the subaltern. I've never felt heat like this anywhere else in India, but thank goodness it seems to be clouding over. That will make it cooler. Mrs. Norton looked around. A done veil was being swiftly drawn up over sun and sky and blotting out the landscape. Good gracious, there's worse trouble coming. That's a sandstorm, she cried, for the first time exhibiting a sign of nervousness. Good heavens, how pleasant! Are we going to be buried under a mound of sand, like the pictures we used to have in our school books of caravans overwhelmed in the Sahara? Mrs. Norton smiled. Not quite as bad as that, she answered, but unpleasant enough. I assure you, if only we had any shelter. Wargrave looked around desperately. He had hitherto no experience of desert country, and the sudden darkness and the grim menace of the approaching black wall of the sandstorm seemed to threaten disaster. He saw a thick clump of cactus half a mile away. We'd better make for that, he said, pointing to it. It will serve to break the force of the wind if we get too leeward of it. Let's mount. He put her on her horse, and then swung himself up into the saddle. Together they raced for the scant shelter before the dark menace overspreading earth and sky. The sun was now hidden, but that brought no relief, for the heat was even more stifling and oppressive than before. The wind seemed like a blast of hot air from an opened furnace door. Pulling up where they reached the dense thicket of cactus with its broad green leaves studded with cruel thorns, Wargrave jumped down and lifted Mrs. Norton from the saddle. The horses followed them instinctively as they pressed as closely as they could to the shelter of the inhospitable plant. The animals turned their tails towards the approaching storm and instinctively huddled against their human companions in distress. Wargrave took off his jacket and spread it around Mrs. Norton's head, holding her to him. With a shrill wail the dark storm swept down upon them, and a million sharp particles of sand beat on them, stinging, smothering, choking them. The horses crowded nearer to the man and the woman clung tighter to him as he wrapped her more closely in the protecting cloth. He felt suffocated, stifled. His lungs bursting, his throat burning while every breath he drew was laden with the irritating sand. It penetrated through all the openings of his clothing. Down his collar, inside his shirt, into his boots. The heat was terrific, unbearable, the darkness intense. Wargrave began to wonder if his first apprehensions were not justified. If they could hope to escape alive or were destined to be buried under the stifling pawl that enveloped them, he felt against him the soft body of the woman clinging fasperately to him, and the warm contact thrilled him. A feeling of pity, of tenderness for her awoke in him at the thought that this young and attractive being was fated perhaps to perish by so awful a death, and instinctively, unconsciously, he held her closer to him. For minutes that seemed hours the storm continued to shriek and roar over and around them, but at length the choking waves began to diminish in density and slowly, gradually, the deadly smothering pawl was lifted from them. The black wall passed on and Wargrave watched it moving away over the desert. The storm had lasted half an hour, but the subaltern believed its duration to have been hours. The fine grit had penetrated into the case of his wristwatch and stopped it. A cool refreshing breeze sprang up. Pulling his jacket off Mrs. Norton's head, Wargrave said, it's over at last. Oh, thank God, she exclaimed feverently, standing erect and drawing a deep breath of cool air into her laboring lungs. I thought I was going to be smothered. It was a decidedly unpleasant experience, and one I don't want to try again. My throat is parched, I must have swallowed tons of sand, and look at the state I'm in. He was powdered thick with it, clothes, hair, eyebrows, gray with it. It had caked on his face, damp with perspiration. Thanks to your jacket, I've escaped pretty well, although I was almost suffocated, she said. Well, now that it is over, surely someone will come to look for us. Then we had better get up on our horses and move out into the open. We'll be more visible, said Wargrave. Yet he felt a strange reluctance to quit the spot, for the thought came to him that their unpleasant experience in it would henceforth be a link between them. A few hours before, he had not known of this woman's existence, and now he had held her to his breast and tried to protect her against the forces of nature, the same idea seen born in her mind at the same time. For when he had brushed the dust off her saddle and lifted her on to it, she turned to look with interest at the spot as they rode away from it. They had not long to wait out in the open before they saw three or four riders spread over the desert, apparently looking for them, so they countered towards them as soon as they were seen by the search party. A sour gallop to meet them and saluting told them that the Marhaja and the rest had taken refuge from the storm in a village a couple of miles away. Then from the Kamar band or broad cloth encircling his waist like a sash, he produced two bottles of soda water which he opened and gave to them. The liquid was warm, but nevertheless was acceptable to their parched throats. They followed their guide at a gallop and soon were being welcomed by the rest of the party in a small village of low mud huts, a couple of kneeling camels, bubbling, squealing and costly trying to bite everything within reach were being unloaded by some of the Marhaja's servants. Other attendants were spreading a white cloth on the ground by a well under a couple of tall palm trees and laying on it an excellent cold lunch for the Europeans with bottles of champagne standing in silver pales filled with ice. As soon as his anxiety on Mrs. Norton's account was relieved by her arrival, his highness, who as an Orthodox Hindu could not eat with his guests, begged them to excuse him and being helped with difficulty on his horse rode slowly off still shaken and sorely bruised by his fall. His nobles and officials accompanied him. After lunch all went to inspect the heap of slain bores laid on the ground in the shade of a hut. Wargrave's kill had been added to it. Much to the subaltern's delight its tusk proved to be the longest and finest of all and he was warmly congratulated by the more experienced pig sticklers on his success. Shortly afterwards the beaters went into the mulla again and a few more runs added another couple of bores to the bag. Then after ice drinks while their saddles were being changed back on to their own horses the Britishers mounted and started on their homeward journey. Without quite knowing how it happened Wargrave found himself riding beside Mrs. Norton behind the rest of the party on the way back they chatted freely and without restraint like old friends for the incidents of the day had served to sweep away formality between them and to give them a sense of long acquaintanceship and mutual liking and when the time came for Mrs. Norton to separate from the others as she reached the spot where the road to the residence she branched off the subaltern volunteered to accompany her it had not taken them long to discover that they had several tastes in common so you like good music she said after a chance remark of his it is pleasant to find a kindred spirit in this desolate place the ladies and the other officers of your regiment are Philistines. Ragtime is more in their line than Greek or Brahms and the other day Captain Ross asked me if Tchaikovsky wasn't the Russian dancer at the Coliseum in town. Wargrave laughed I know I became very unpopular when I was band president and made our band play Wagner all one night during mess. I gave up trying to elevate their musical taste when the colonel told me to order the bandmaster to stop that awful rubbish and play something good like the selection from the last London review. Are you a musician yourself she asked I play the violin oh how ripping you must come often and practice with me I've an excellent piano but I rarely touch it now my husband takes no interest in music or indeed in anything else I like but then I am not thrilled by his one absorbing passion in life insects so work quits I suppose their horses were walking silently over the soft sand and Wargrave heard her give a little sigh was it possible he wondered that the husband of this charming woman did not appreciate her and her attractions as he ought she went on with a change of manner when are you coming to call on me I am a duty call you know all officers are supposed to leave cards on the palace and the residency the call on you will be a pleasure I assure you not a mere duty Mrs. Norton said the subaltern with a touch of earnestness may I come tomorrow yes please do come early for tea and bring your violin it will be delightful to have some music again I have not opened my piano for months but I'll begin to practice tonight I have one or two pieces with violin obligato so chatting and at every step finding something fresh to like in each other they rode along down sandy lanes hemmed in by prickly aloe hedges by deep wells and creaking water wheels where patient bullocks toiled in the sun to draw up the gushing water to irrigate the green fields so reproachful to the eye after the glaring desert they passed by that mud huts outside which naked brown babies sprawled in the dust and dear eyed women turned the hand horns that ground the flower for their households evening meal stiff and sore the war grave was after these many hours of his first day in the saddle for so long he thoroughly enjoyed his ride back was so attractive a companion when they reached the residency a fine airy building of white stone standing in large well-kept grounds he felt quite reluctant to part with her but declining her invitation to enter he renewed his promise to call on the following day and rode on to his bungalow when he was alone he realized for the first time the effects of fatigue thirst and the boiling heat of the afternoon sun but mrs. Norton was more in his thoughts than the exciting events of the day as he trotted painfully on towards his bungalow the house was closely shut and shuttered against the outside heat and raiment was asleep enjoying a welcome siesta after the early start and hard exercise war grave entered his own bare and comfortless bedroom and with the help of his boy as indian body servants are termed proceeded to undress then attired in a big towel and slippers he passed into the small stone paved apartment dignified with the title of bathroom which opened off his bedroom after his ablutions war grave lay down on his bed and slept for an hour or two until awakened by raiment's voice bidding him join him at tea strolling in pajamas and slippers into the sitting room which they shared the subaltern found his comrade lying lazily in a long chair and attired in the same cool costume the outer doors and windows of the bungalow were still closed against the brooding heat outside inside the house the temperature was a little cooler despite the punka which droned monotonously overhead over their tea the two young soldiers discussed the day sport recalling every incident of each run and kill until the servants came in to throw open the doors and windows in hope of a faint breath of evening coolness the punka stopped and the coolly who pulled it shuffled away after tea raiment took his companion to inspect the cantonment which war grave had not yet seen for he had not reached it until after dusk the previous day it consisted only of the mess the regimental office and about 10 bungalows for the officers single storied brick or rubble walled buildings thatched or tiled some of them were unoccupied and were tumbling in ruins there was nothing else not even the general shop usual in most small cantonments not a spool of thread not a tin of sardines could be purchased within a three days journey most of the food supplies and almost everything else had to be brought from Bombay around the bungalow the compounds were simply patches of the universal sands surrounded by mud walls no flowers no trees not even a blade of grass relieved the dull monotony altogether the cantonment of Rohar was an unlovely and uninteresting place yet it is but an example of many such stations in India lonely and soul-dending some of which have not even its saving grace a sport to inliving existence in them after a visit to the lines the rows of single story detached brick buildings one to a company that housed the native ranks of the regiment where the Indian officers and sepoys and as native infantry soldiers are called rushed out to crowd round and welcome back their popular officer war grave and raiment strolled to the mess here in the anti-room other British officers of the corpse tired out after the day's sport were lying in easy chairs reading the three days old Bombay newspaper just arrived and the three weeks old English journals until it was time to return to their bungalows and dress for dinner early on the following afternoon war grave borrowed Raymond's bamboo cart and pony for he had sold his own trap and horses before going on leave to England and had not yet time to buy new ones and drove to the residency when he pulled up before the hall door and in Anglo-Indian fashion shouted boy from his seat in the vehicle a tall stately Indian servant came in a long gold lace red coat reaching below the knees and embroidered on the breast with the imperial monogram in gold came out and held a small silver tray to him war grave placed a couple of his visiting cards on it and the gorgeous apparition known as a chuprasi retired into the building with them while he was gone war grave looked with pleasure at the brilliant flower beds green lawn and tall plants and bushes glowing with color of the carefully tended and well watered residency garden which contrasted strikingly with the dry bare compounds of the cantamount in a minute or two the chuprasi returned and said salam war grave hooking up the rains climbed down from the trap leaving Raymond's scythe in charge of the pony and entered the grateful coolness of the lofty hall here another chuprasi took his hat and holding out a pen for him indicated the red bound visitor's book in which he was to inscribe his name then one of the servants led the way up the broad staircase into a large and well furnished drawing room extending along the whole front of the building here war grave found mrs. Norton awaiting him she looked very lovely in a cool white dress of muslim but muslim shaped by a master hand of paris she welcomed him gaily and made him feel at once on the footing of an old friend she was genuinely glad to see him again to this young and attractive woman full of joy of living hardly more than a girl yet married to a much older man sober minded stalled and uncongenial to her and buried in this dull and lonely station war grave had appealed instantly youth calls to youth and she hailed his advent into her monotonous life as a child greets the coming of a playfellow with the other two ladies in rohar she had nothing in common both were middle aged serious and spiteful to them her youth and beauty were an offense and from the first day of their acquaintance with her they had disliked her as for the other officers of the regiment none of them attracted her for good fellows as they were none shared any of her taste except her love of sport but in war grave she had already recognized a companion a playmate one to whom music art and poetry appealed as they did to her on his side frank heart whole but fond of the society of the opposite sex was at once attracted by this charming member of it who had taste akin to his own her beauty pleased his beauty loving eye and he would not have been man if her readiness to meet him on a footing of friendship had not flattered him he had thought that a great drawback to life in rohar would be the lack of feminine companionship for the ladies of his regiment were not all congenial although he did not dislike them but it was delightful to find in this desert spot this pretty and cultured woman who would have been deemed attractive in london and who appeared trebly so in a dull and lonely indian station he had thought much of her since their meeting on the previous day and although it never occurred to him to lose his heart to her or even attempt to flirt with her yet he felt that her friendship would brighten existence for him in rohar nor did the thought strike him that possibly he might come to mean more to mrs nelson than she to him for while he had his work his duties the good fellowship of the mess and the friendship of his comrades to fill his life she had nothing she was utterly without interest occupation or real companionship in rohar her husband and she had nothing in common no child had come during the five years of their marriage to link them together and in this solitary place where there was no gayities no distractions such as a young woman would naturally long for she was lonely very lonely indeed it was little wonder that she snatched eagerly at the promise of an interesting friendship war grave stood out and apart from the other officers of the regiment and his companionship during the uncomfortable incident of the sandstorm bulked unaccountably large in her mind it seemed to denote that he was destined to introduce a new element into her life as they talked it was with increasing pleasure that she learned they had so many tastes in common she found that he played the violin well and was moreover the possessor of a voice tuneful and sympathetic even if not perfectly trained this made instant appeal to her and would have disposed her to regard him with favor even if she had not been already prepared to like him the afternoon passed all too quickly for both of them violent norton had never enjoyed any hours enroll her so much as these and when as she sat at the piano while frank played an obligato a servant came to inquire if she wished her horse or a carriage got ready for her usual evening ride or drive she impatiently ordered him out of the room when the time came for war grave to return to his bungalow to dress for dinner she begged him to stay and dine with her i shall be all alone and it would be a charitable act to take pity on my solitude she said my husband is dining at your mass tonight thank you very much for asking me replied the subaltern i should have loved to accept your invitation but it is our guest night and the colonel likes all of us to be present at mass on such evenings oh i forgot she explained i ought to have remembered for mr. Raymond told me the same thing only last week when i invited him informally well you must come some other night soon reluctant to part with her new playmate she accompanied him to the door and to the scandal of the stately chump prassies stood at it to watch him drive away and to wave him a last goodbye as he looked back when the pony turned out of the gate india is a land of lightening friendships between men and women end of chapter two chapter three of the jungle girl by gordon casserly this libra vox recording is in the public domain recording by linda mary nielsen vancouver bc the love song of har dial the bukler was sounding the second mess call as the resident's carriage drew up before the steps of the mess veranda on which stood all the officers of the regiment dressed in the white drill uniform worn at dinner in india during the hot weather from the carriage major norton a stout middle-aged man in civilian evening dress descended stiffly and shook hands with the commander of the battalion colonel trevor who had come down the steps to meet him and whose guest he was to be on the veranda war grave was introduced to him by the colonel and took his outstretched hand with reluctance for frank felt stirring in him a faint jealousy of the man who was violets legal lord and an infinite hostility to him for not appreciating his charming wife as he ought and while the resident was shaking hands with the others war grave looked at him with interest major norton was a very ordinary looking man more elderly in appearance than his years warranted he was bald and clean shaved but for scraps of side whiskers that gave him a resemblance to the traditional stage lawyer of amateur theatricals a likeness increased by his heavy and prosy manner it was hard to believe that he had ever been a young subultrin though such had once been the case for the indian political department is recruited chiefly from officers of the indian army but he was never the gay and light-hearted individual that most junior subs are at the beginning of their career even then he had been a sober and serious individual favorably noted by his superiors as being earnest and painstaking and now he was well thought of by the heads of his department for his plotting and methodical disposition and his slavish adherence to the rules and regulations had earned him the reputation of being an eminently safe man how such a gay laughter-loving coquettish and attractive woman as violet deering came to marry one so entirely her opposite puzzled everyone who did not know the inner history of a girl one of a large family of daughters given her chance in life by being sent out to relatives in calcata for one season with a definite warning not to return home unmarried under penalty of being turned out to face the world as a governess or hospital nurse and violet-like comfort and hated work during dinner war grey found himself instinctively criticizing norton's manner and conversation and rapidly arrived at the conclusion that raiment had described him accurately the resident though a very worthy individual was undoubtedly a bore and colonel trevor besides whom he sat strove in vain to appear interested in his conversation for he had heard his opinions on every subject on which norton had any opinions over and over again as the resident was the only other european in the station he dined regularly at the mess on the weekly guest night with one or other of the officers he was not popular among them but they considered it their duty to be victimized in turn to uphold the regiment's reputation for hospitality and in consequence each resigned himself to act as his host after dinner as the resident played neither cards nor billiards the colonel sat out on the veranda with him all the while longing to be at the bridge table instead and as his guest was a strict tree toddler he did not like to order a drink for himself so he tried to keep awake and hide his yawns while listening to a prosy monologue on insects until the residency carriage came to take major norton away when his guest had left the colonel entered the anti-room heaving a sigh of relief few thank god that's over he explained pideously really norton becomes more of a bore every day i'm sick to death of hearing the life story of every indian insect for the hundredth time a dream of koloperta and polyoptra and other weird beasties tonight the other officers looked up and laughed ross rose from the bridge table and said come and take my place sir we finished the rubber have a drink you want something to cheer you up after that inflection boy whiskey soda commanding salib key was allow bring a whiskey and soda for the commanding officer you've my entire sympathy colonel said major heppern the second in command it's my turn to ask the resident to dinner next i feel tempted to go on the sick list to escape it i say sir i've got a good idea said an irish subaltern named dally who was seated at the bridge table couldn't we pass a resolution at the next mess meeting that in future no guests are ever to be asked to dinner that will save us from our weekly penance the others laughed but the colonel whose sense of humor was not his strong point took the suggestion as being seriously meant no no we couldn't do that he said in an alarmed tone the resident would be very offended and might mention it to the general when he comes here on his annual inspection the remark was very characteristic of colonel trevor who was a man who dreaded responsibility and whose sole object in life was to reach safety the time when his period of command being finished he could retire on his full pension he was always haunted by the dread that some carelessness or mistake on his part or that of any of his subordinates might involve him in trouble with his superiors and prevent that happy consummation of his 30 years of indian service this fear made him merciless to anyone under him whose conduct might bring the censure of the higher authorities on the innocent head of the commanding officer who was in theory responsible for the behavior of his juniors it was commonly said in the regiment that he would cheerfully give up his own brother to be hanged to save himself the mildest official reprimand perhaps he was not altogether to blame for he was not his own master in private life it was hinted that colonel trevor commanded the battalion but that mrs trevor commanded him and unfortunately there was no doubt that this lady interfered privately a good deal in regimental matters much to the annoyance of the other officers now relieved of the incubus that here the two spoiled his enjoyment of the evening the colonel gratefully drank the whiskey and soda brought him by rosa's order and sat down cheerfully to play bridge he always liked dining in the mess where he was a far more important person than he was in his own house it did not take war grave long to settle down again into the routine of regimental life and the hundrum existence of a small indian station but he had never before been quartered in so remote and dull a spot as roe horror the only distractions it offered besides the shooting and pig sticking were two tennis afternoons weekly one at the residency the other at the mess here the dozen or so europeans who knew every line of each other's faces by heart gathered regularly from sheer boredom whether the game amused them or not neither mrs trevor nor her bosom friend mrs baird the regimental surgeon's better half ever attempted it but they invariably attended and sat together usually talking scandal of mrs norton as she played or had it with the men mrs trevor's chief grievance against her was that the general commanding the division when he came to inspect the battalion took the younger woman in to dinner for as her husband the resident was the viceroy's representative she could claim precedence over the wife of a mere regimental commandant no english village is so full of petty squabbles and malicious gossip as a small indian station like everyone else in the land war grave hated most those terrible hours of the hot weather between nine in the morning and five in the afternoon he and raymond passed them like so many thousands of their kind elsewhere shut up in their comfort list bungalow which was darkened and closely shuttered to exclude the awful heat and the blinding glare outside too hot to read or write almost to smoke they lay in long cane chairs gasping and perspiring freely while the whining punka overhead barely stirred the heated air one exterior window on the windward side of the bungalow was filled with a thick mat of dried and odorous couscous grass against which every quarter of an hour the beastie through water to wet it thoroughly so that the hot breeze that swept over the burning sand outside might enter cooled by the evaporation of the water but frank found alleviation and comfort in frequent visits to the residency where mrs. norton and he spent the baking hours of the afternoon absorbed in making music or singing duets for violet had a well-trained voice which harmonized well with his no thought of sex seemed to obtrude itself on them they were just playmates comrades nothing more yet it was only natural that the woman's vanity should be flattered by the man's eagerness to seek her society and by his evident pleasure in it and it was delightful to have at last a sympathetic listener to all her little grievances one who seemed as interested in her petty household worries or the delinquencies of her london millner in failing to execute her orders properly as in her greater complaint against the fate that condemned a woman of her artistic and gayity loving nature to existence in the wilds and to the society of persons so uncongenial to her as were the majority of the white foot folk of rohar to a man the role of confident to a pretty woman is pleasant and flattering and war grey felt that he was highly favored by being made the recipient of her confidences it never occurred to him that there might be danger in the situation he regarded her only as a friend in need of sympathy and help his chivalry was up in arms at the thought that she was not properly appreciated by her husband who he began to suspect was inclined to neglect her and treat her as a mere chattel the suspicion angered him true violet had never definitely told him so but he gathered as much from her unconscious admissions and revered her all the more for her bravery in endeavoring to keep silent on the subject certainly major norton did not seem to him to be a man capable of understanding and valuing so sweet and rare a woman as this after their introduction in the mess frank's next meeting with him was at his own table at the residency when in due course war gave was invited to dinner after his duty call raymond was asked as well and the two subalterns were the only guests their hostess looked very lovely in a Paris made gown of a green shade that suited her coloring admirably england did not seem to the young soldiers so very far away when this charming and exquisitely dressed woman received them in her large drawing room from which all trace of the east and furniture and decoration was carefully excluded for the english in india tried to avoid in their homes all that would remind them of the land of exile in which their lot is cast major norton came into the room after his guests muttering an intelligible apology he shook hands with them with an abstracted air and failed to recall wargrave's name at table he asked frank a few perfunctory questions and then wandered off into his inevitable subject etymology but finding him ignorant of an uninterested in id he engaged in a desol tree conversation with raymond he soon tired of this and for the most part ate his dinner in silence he never addressed his wife and wargrave watching him pitied her if her husband was as little companionable at mealtimes when they were alone he pictured her sitting at table every day with this abstracted and uncommunicative man whose thoughts seem far from his present company and surroundings and who was scarcely likely to exert himself to talk to and entertain his wife when he made so little effort to do so to his guests determined that on this occasion at least his hostess should be amused frank did his best to enliven the meal he described to her as well as he could all that he remembered of the latest fashions in england told her the plots of the newest plays at the london theaters repeated a few laughable stories to make her smile and provoke raymond who had a dry humor of his own to a contest of wit between them the two subalterns brightened up what had threatened to be adult evening mrs. norton laughed gaily and helped to keep the ball rolling and even the host in his turn woke up and actually attempted to tell a humorous story it certainly lacked point but he seemed satisfied that it was funny so was guest smiled as in duty bound but war grave noted mrs. norton's look of astonishment at this new departure on the part of her husband and thought that there was something very pathetic in her surprise when the meal was ended she laughingly declined to leave the men over their wine and stayed to smoke a cigarette with them when they all quitted the dining room the resident asked his guests to excuse him for returning to his study pleading urgent and important work and his wife led the subalterns up to the drawing room and out on to the veranda that ran alongside its french windows here easy chairs and a table with a big lamp had been placed for them as soon as they were seated one of the stately chuprasis brought coffee well another proffer cigars and cigarettes and held a light from a silver spirit lamp then both the solemn servitors departed noiselessly on bare feet after some conversation mrs. norton said to the adjunct do you remember mr. raymond that you have promised to take me out shooting one day i haven't forgotten he replied but i was not able to arrange it as the mara jaw had pig sticking meats fixed up for all our free days but i don't think we'll have another for some time for i hear that his kindness is laid up from the effects of his fall so we might go out someday soon good when shall we go asked wargrave let's fix it up now what about next thursday said his friend turning to mrs. norton yes that will suit me where shall we go there are a lot of partridge and a few hairs i'm told near the tank at marwa where there is a good deal of cultivation answered raymond then turning to his friend he continued you are not very keen on small game shooting frank so you can bring your rifle and try for chinkara i saw a buck and a couple of dough there not very long ago a little venison would be very acceptable in mess the tank is about eight miles away isn't it said the hostess i'll write to the mara jaw and ask him to lend us camels to take us out my cook will put up a good cold lunch for us she rose from her chair and continued now mr wargrave come and sing something i've been trying over those new songs of yours today she led the way into the drawing room and raymond was left alone on the veranda to smoke and listen for the rest of the evening while the others forgot him as they played and sang suddenly he sat up in his chair and with a queer little pang of jealousy in his heart stared through the open window at the couple at the piano he watched his friend's face turn eagerly towards his hostess wargrave was gazing intently at her in a voice full of feeling and pathos a voice with a plaintive little tone in it that thrilled him strangely she's saying that haunting melody the love song of her dale wistfully sadly she uttered the sorrow words that kipling puts into the mouth of the lovelorn pathan maiden my father's wife is old and harsh with years and drudge of all my father's house am i my bread is sorrow and my drink is tears come back to me beloved or i die come back to me beloved or i die and the singer looked up into the eager eyes bent on her and sighed a little as she struck the final chords out on the veranda raymond frowned as he watched them and wondered if this woman was to come between them and take his friend from him just then the barefooted servants entered the room carrying silver trays on which stood the whiskies and sodas that are the stirrup cups the hints to guess that the time of departure has come of dinner parties in india as the two subalterns drove home in ravens trap through the hot indian night under a moon shining with the brilliance that england never knows war grave hummed the love song of her dial suddenly he said she's wonderful ray isn't she fancy such a glorious woman buried in this hall and married to a dry old stick like the resident doesn't it seem a shame the adjunct mumbled in an incoherent reply behind his lighted chair route arrived in their bungalow they undressed in their rooms and in pajamas and slippers came out into the compound where on either side of a table on which was a lighted lamp stood their bedsteads the mattress of each covered with a thin strip of soft china matting for in the hot weather in many parts of india this must be used to lie upon instead of a linen sheet which would become saturated with perspiration looking carefully at the ground over which they passed for fear of snakes they reached and lay down on their beds over each of which a punka was suspended from a cross beam supported by two upright posts sunk in the ground one rope moved both punkas and the mode of power was also supplied by a kuli who salamaning to the salibs and seating himself on the ground picked up the end of the rope and began to pull raiment put out the lamp war grey stared up at the moon for a while then he said i say ray didn't mrs. norton look lovely tonight didn't that dress suit her awfully well oh go to sleep old man we've got to get up in a few hours for this confoundedly early parade good night growled the adjunct turning on his side and closing his eyes but he listened for some time to his friend humming the love song of har dal again and not until frank was silent did he doze off an hour later he woke up suddenly bathed in perspiration and devoured by mosquitoes for the punkas were still the kuli had gone to sleep he called to the man and aroused him then before shutting his eyes again he looked at his companion the moon shone full on war grey's face he was sleeping peacefully and smiling raiment stared at him for a few minutes then he muttered inconsequently confound the woman and closing his eyes resolutely he fell asleep in the days that elapsed before the shoot at marwa war grey wrote every afternoon to the residency with the cease caring his violent case except when tennis was to be played in their small community this could not escape notice and comment not that it occurred to him to try and void either the resident did not object to the frequency of his visits and frank saw no harm in his friendship with mrs. norton but others did and the remarks of the two ladies of his regiment on the subject were vehemently spiteful but their censure was reserved for the one they termed that shameless woman for like everyone else they were partial to war grave and held him less to blame his brother officers although being men they were not so quick to nose out a scandal could not help noticing his absorption in mrs. norton's society one afternoon his double company commander major heppern walked into the compound of raiment's bungalow and on the veranda shouted the usual angle indian callers demand boy ko hi is anyone there a servant hurried out and salamaning answered adjitan sahib hi the adjunct is here oh come in major cried raiment rising from the table at which he was seated drinking his tea don't get up said heppern entering the room is war grave in no sir he went out half an hour ago confound it it seems impossible ever to find him in the afternoon nowadays said the major pentantly i wanted him to get up a hockey match against number three double company today he used to be very keen on playing with the men but since he came back from england he never goes near them where is he poodle faking at the residency as usual this is the term contemptuously applied in india to the paying of calls and other social duties that imply dancing attendance on the fair sex i didn't see him before he went out sir was raiment's equivocal reply he loyally evaded a direct answer heppern shook his head doubtfully i'm sorry about it i hope the boy doesn't get into mischief look here raiment you're his pal keep your eye on him he's a good lad and it would be a pity if he came to grief the adjunct did not answer the major put on his hat well i suppose i'll have to see to the hockey myself he left the bungalow with a curt nod to raiment who watched him pass out through the compound gate then the adjunct walked over to war grey's writing table and stood up again in its place a large photograph of mrs. norton which he had hurriedly laid face downward when he heard heppern's voice outside he looked at it for a minute then turned away frowning when the morning of the shooting party arrived war grave and raiment having sent their sights on ahead with the guns wrote at dawn to the residency in front of the building a group of camels lay on the ground burbling blowing bubbles grumbling incessantly and stretching out their long necks to stamp viciously at anyone but their drivers that chance to come near them at the hall door mrs. norton stood dressed in a smart and attractive costume of khaki drill consisting of a well cut long fraught coat and breeches with the neatest of cloth gators and dainty but serviceable boots to their surprise her husband was with her and evidently prepared to accompany them for he wore an old coat knickerbockers and putties from a strap over his shoulder hung a specimen box and he was armed with all the requisite appliances for the capture and slaughter of many insects avoiding the camels vicious teeth the party mounted after exchanging greetings mrs. norton and war grave rode the same animal and frank unused to this form of locomotion took a tight grip as the long legged beast rose from the ground in unexpected jerks and set off at a jolting walk that shook its riders painfully then it broke into a trot equally disconcerting but finally settled into an easy counter that was as comfortable a motion as its previous paces had been spine dislocating the root lay at first over a space of desert which was unpleasant for the sand was blown in clouds by a high wind almost a gale but the camels were fast movers and it did not take very long before they were passing through scrub jungle and finally reached the wide stretch of cultivation near marwa the tank as lakes are called in india lay in the center of a shallow depression the rim of which all round was about 400 yards from the water which now half a mile across evidently filled the whole basin in the rainy season the strong breeze turned its surface into little waves and piled up masses of froth and foam against the bending reeds at one end of the tank where about 50 yards from the water's edge stood a couple of thorny trees offering almost the only shade to be found for a long distance around in the shadows were many young egrets while a saurus crane stalked solemnly along the far bank and everywhere birdlife rare elsewhere in the state abounded the land all about was green a refreshing change from the usual sandy and parched character of most of the country but beyond the tank the field stretched away out of sight at the edge of the cultivation the camels were halted and the party dismounted from them and separated mrs. norton who was a fair shot and carried a light 12-board gun started to walk up the partridges with raiment while her husband went to search the reeds and the borders of the lake for strange insects wargrave armed with a sporting man like her rifle set off on a long tramp to look for chinkera which are pretty little antelope with curving horns the wind which was freshening prevented the heat from being excessive the sport was fairly good when lunchtime came the adjunct and mrs. norton had got quite a respectable bag of partridges and a few hairs the entomologist was in high spirits for he had secured two rare specimens and wargrave had shot a good buck so in a contented frame of mine all gathered under the trees near the end of the tank where lunch was laid by a couple of the residency servants on a white cloth spread on the ground as they ate their tiffin lunch the members of the party chatted over the incidents of the morning and each related the story of his or her sport after the meal mrs. norton decided to rest for the ride and the long walk with her gun had tired her the servants spread a rug for her under the trees and placed a camel saddle for her to recline against then carrying away the empty dishes plates glasses and cutlery they retired out of sight are you sure you don't mind being left alone mrs. norton asked wargrave not in the least do go and shoot again she replied smiling up at him i'm very comfortable and i'm glad to have a good rest before undertaking that tiresome ride back it's very pleasant here the wind comes so cool and fresh off the water isn't it strong though the breeze had freshened to a gale and under the trees the temperature was quite bearable the resident had already gone out of sight over the rim of the basin having exhausted the neighborhood of the tank and being desirous of searching farther afield wargrave and raiment now followed him but soon separated the ladder making for the cultivation again while his friend set off for the open plain ordinarily the heat would have been intense for the hours after noon up to three o'clock or later are the hottest of the day in india but the gale made it quite cool to wargrave tramping about unsuccessfully this time came frequently the sound of raiment's gun ray seems to be having all the luck he thought as through his field glasses he scanned the plane without seeing anything i'm getting fed up at last in despair he shouldered his rifle and turned back after a long walk he came in sight of the adjunct standing near the edge of the fields talking to norton when frank reached him he found that his friend had increased his bag very considerably well done old boy you'd better luck than i had he said then turning to the resident he continued how have you done sir nothing of any value replied norton have you finished we're thinking of going back now yes sir i am through by jove i'm thirsty i could do with a drink couldn't you ray rather my throats like a lime count will join mrs norton and then have an ice drink while the camels are being saddled they strolled towards the lake which was hidden from their view by the rim of the basin as they reached the slight ridge that made all three stopped dead and gazed in amazement as they reached the slight ridge that this made all three stopped dead and gazed in amazement what's happened to the tank exclaimed raymond the waters almost up to the trees good god my wife look look cried the resident they stood appalled the wide body of water had swept up to within a few yards of the trees under which mrs norton lay fast asleep and stealthily emerging from it a large crocodile was slowly cautiously crawling towards the unconscious woman end of chapter three