THE CAT AND THE TIGER
Several weeks had passed since the Durgá Puja Festival. Over the Indian
Empire the dark clouds were gathering fast. The Pathan tribes along the
North-west Frontier were straining at the leash; Afridis, Yusufzais,
Mohmands, all the _Pukhtana_, were restless and excited. The _mullahs_ were
preaching a holy war; and the _maliks_, or tribal elders, could not
restrain their young men. Raids into British Indian territory were
frequent.
There was worse menace behind. The Afghan troops, organised, trained, and
equipped as they had never been before in their history, were massing near
the Khyber Pass. Some of the Penlops, the great feudal chieftains of
little-known Bhutan, were rumoured to have broken out into rebellion
against the Maharajah because, loyal to his treaties with the Government of
India, he had refused a Chinese army free passage through the country. All
the masterless Bhuttia rogues on both sides of the border were sharpening
their _dahs_ and looking down greedily on the fertile plains below.
All India itself seemed trembling on the verge of revolt. The Punjaub was
honeycombed with sedition. Men said that the warlike castes and races that
had helped Britain to hold the land in the Black Year of the Mutiny would
be the first to tear it from her now. In the Bengals outrages and open
disloyalty were the order of the day. The curs that had fattened under
England's protection were the first to snap at her heels. The Day of Doom
seemed very near. Only the great feudatories of the King-Emperor, the noble
Princes of India, faithful to their oaths, were loyal.
Through the borderland of Bhutan Dermot and Badshah still ranged, watching
the many gates through the walls of mountains better than battalions of
spies. The man rarely slept in a bed. His nights were passed beside his
faithful friend high up in the Himalayan passes, where the snow was already
falling, or down in the jungles still reeking of fever and sweltering in
tropic heat. By his instructions Parker and his two hundred sepoys toiled
to improve the defences of Ranga Duar; and the subaltern was happy in the
possession of several machine guns wrung from the Ordnance Department with
difficulty.
Often, as Dermot sat high perched on the mountain side, searching the
narrow valleys and deep ravines of Bhutan with powerful glasses, his
thoughts flew to Noreen safe beyond the giant hills at his back. It cheered
him to know that he was watching over her safety as well as guarding the
peace of hundreds of millions in the same land. He had seldom seen her
since their return from Lalpuri, and on the rare occasions of their meeting
she seemed to avoid him more than ever. Chunerbutty was always by her side.
Could there be truth, then, in this fresh story that Ida Smith had told him
on their last night at the Palace, when she said that she had discovered
that she was mistaken in believing in Noreen's approaching betrothal to
Charlesworth, of which she had assured him in Darjeeling? For at Lalpuri
she said she had extracted from the girl the confession that she had
refused the Rifleman and others for love of someone in the Plains below.
And Ida, judging from Chunerbutty's constant attendance on, and
proprietorial manner with Noreen, confided to Dermot her firm belief that
the Bengali was the man.
The thought was unbearable to the soldier. As he sat in his lonely eyrie he
knew now that he loved the girl, that it would be unbearable for him to see
her another's wife. Those few days at Lalpuri, when first he felt the
estrangement between them, had revealed the truth to him. When in the
courtyard of the Palace he saw Death rushing on him he had given her what
he believed would be his last thought.
He recalled her charm, her delightful comradeship, her brightness, and her
beauty. It was hateful to think that she would dower this renegade Hindu
with them all. Dermot had no unjust prejudice against the natives of the
land in which so much of his life was passed. Like every officer in the
Indian Army he loved his sepoys and regarded them as his children. Their
troubles, their welfare, were his. He respected the men of those gallant
warrior races that once had faced the British valiantly in battle and
fought as loyally beside them since. But for the effeminate and cowardly
peoples of India, that ever crawled to kiss the feet of each conqueror of
the peninsula in turn and then stabbed him in the back if they could, he
had the contempt that every member of the martial races of the land, every
Sikh, Rajput, Gurkha, Punjaubi had.
The girl would scarcely have refused so good a match as Charlesworth or
come away heart-whole from Darjeeling, where so many had striven for her
favour, if she had gone there without a prior attachment. That she cared
for no man in England he was sure, for she had often told him that she had
no desire to return to that country. He had seen her among the planters of
the district and was certain that she loved none of them. Only Chunerbutty
was left; it must indeed be he.
He shut up his binoculars and climbed down the rocky pinnacle on which he
had been perched, and went to eat a cheerless meal where Badshah grazed a
thousand feet below.
In Malpura Noreen was suffering bitterly for her foolish pride and jealous
readiness to believe evil of the man she loved. She knew that she was
entirely to blame for her estrangement from him. He never came to their
garden now; and to her dismay her brother ignored all hints to invite him.
For the boy was divided between loyalty to Chunerbutty (whom he had to
thank for his chance in life) and the man who had twice saved his sister.
Chunerbutty had reproached him with forgetting what he, the now despised
Hindu, had done for him in the past, and complained sadly that Miss Daleham
looked down on him for the colour of his skin. So Fred felt that he must
choose between two friends and that honour demanded his clinging to the
older one. Therefore he begged Noreen for his sake not to hurt the
engineer's feelings and to treat him kindly. She could not refuse, and
Chunerbutty took every advantage of her sisterly obedience. Whenever they
went to the club he tried to monopolise her, and delighted in exhibiting
the terms of friendship on which they appeared to be. The girl felt that
even her old friends were beginning at last to look askance at her;
consequently she tried to avoid going to the weekly gatherings.
It happened that on the occasion when Dermot, having arrived at Salchini on
a visit to Payne, again made his appearance at the club, Daleham had
insisted on his sister accompanying him there, much against her will.
Chunerbutty was unable to go with them, being confined to his bungalow with
a slight touch of fever.
That afternoon Noreen was more than ever conscious of a strained feeling
and an unmistakable coldness to her on the part of the men whom she knew
best. And worse, it seemed to her that some young fellows who had only
recently come to the district and with whom she was little acquainted, were
inclined to treat her with less respect than usual. She had seen Dermot
arrive with his host; but, although Payne came to sit down beside her and
chat, his guest merely greeted her courteously and passed on at once.
All that afternoon it seemed to the girl that something in the atmosphere
was miserably wrong, but what it was she could not tell. She was bitterly
disappointed that Dermot kept away from her. It was not the smart of a hurt
pride, but the bewildered pain of a child that finds that the one it values
most does not need it. Indeed her best friends, all except Payne, seemed to
have agreed to ignore her.
Mrs. Rice, however, was even sweeter in her manner than usual when she
spoke to the girl.
"Where is Mr. Chunerbutty today, dear?" she asked after lunch from where
she sat on the verandah beside Dermot. Noreen was standing further along it
with Payne, watching the play on the tennis-court in front of the club
house.
"He isn't very well," replied the girl. "He's suffering from fever."
"Oh, really? I am so sorry to hear that," exclaimed the older woman. "So
sad for you, dear. However did you force yourself to leave him?"
Noreen looked at her in surprise.
"Why not? We could do nothing for him," she said. "We sent him soup and
jelly made by our cook, and Fred went to see him before we started. But he
didn't want to be disturbed."
Mrs. Rice's manner grew even more sweetly sympathetic.
"I _am_ so sorry," she said. "How worried you must be!"
The girl stared at her in astonishment. She had never expected to find Mrs.
Rice seriously concerned about any one, and least of all the Hindu, who was
no favourite of hers.
"Oh, there's really nothing to worry about," she exclaimed impatiently.
"Fred said he hadn't much of a temperature."
"Yes, I daresay. But you can't help being anxious, I know. I wonder that
you were able to bring yourself to come here at all, dear," said the older
woman in honeyed tones.
"But why shouldn't I?"
Noreen's eyebrows were raised in bewilderment. She felt instinctively that
there was some hidden unfriendliness at the back of Mrs. Rice's sympathetic
words. She felt that Dermot was watching her.
"Oh, forgive me, dear. I am afraid I'm being indiscreet. I forgot," said
the other woman. She rose from her chair and turned to the man beside her.
"Major, do take me out to see how the coolies are getting on with the polo
ground. I hope when it's finished you'll come here to play regularly. These
boys want someone to show them the game. You military men are the only ones
who know how it should be played."
She put up her green-lined white sun-umbrella and led the way down the
verandah steps. With a puckered brow Noreen watched her and her companion
until they were out of sight round the corner of the little wooden
building.
"What does Mrs. Rice mean?" she demanded. "I'm sure there's something
behind her words. She never pretended to like Mr. Chunerbutty. Why should
she be concerned about him now? Why does she seem to expect me to stay
behind to nurse him? Of course I would, if he were dangerously ill. But
he's not."
Payne glanced around. Some of the men, who were sitting near, had heard the
conversation with Mrs. Rice, and Noreen felt that there was something
hostile in the way in which they looked at her.
Payne answered in a careless tone:
"Let's sit down. There are a couple of chairs. We'll bag them."
He pointed to two at the far end of the verandah and led the way to them.
When they were seated he said:
"Haven't you any idea of what she means, Miss Daleham?"
The girl stared at him anxiously.
"Then she does mean something, and you know it. Mr. Payne, you have always
been good to me. Won't you help me? Everyone seems to have grown suddenly
very unfriendly."
The grey-haired man looked pityingly at her.
"Will you be honest with me, child?" he asked. "Are you engaged to
Chunerbutty?"
"Engaged? What--to marry him? Good gracious, no!" exclaimed the astonished
girl, half rising from her chair.
"Will you tell me frankly--have you any intention of marrying him?" he
persisted.
Noreen stared at him, her cheeks flaming.
"Marry Mr. Chunerbutty? Of course not. How could you think so! Why, he's
not even a white man."
"Thank God!" Payne exclaimed fervently. "I'm delighted to hear it. I
couldn't believe it--yet one never knows."
"But what on earth put such a preposterous idea into your head, Mr. Payne?"
asked Noreen. "And what has this got to do with Mrs. Rice?"
"Because Mrs. Rice said that you were engaged to Chunerbutty."
For a moment Noreen could find no words. Then she leaned forward, her eyes
flashing.
"Oh, how could she--how could she think so?"
"Perhaps she didn't. But she wanted us to. She said that you had told her
you were engaged to him, but wanted it kept secret for the present. So
naturally she told everyone."
"Told everyone that I was going to marry a native? Oh, how cruel of her!
How could she be so wicked!" exclaimed the girl, much distressed. Then she
added: "Did _you_ believe it?"
Payne shook his head.
"Candidly, child, I didn't know what to think. I hoped it wasn't true. But
of late that damned Bengali seemed so intimate with you. He apparently
wanted everyone to see on what very friendly terms you and he were."
"Did Major Dermot believe it too?"
"I don't know," said Payne doubtfully. "Dermot's not the fellow to talk
about women. He's never mentioned you."
"But how do you know that Mrs. Rice said such a thing? Did she tell you?"
"No; she knows that I am your friend, and I daresay she was afraid to tell
me such a lie. But she told others."
He turned in his chair and called to a young fellow standing near the bar
of the club.
"I say, Travers, do you mind coming here a moment? Pull up a chair and sit
down."
Travers was a straight, clean-minded boy, one of those of their community
whom Noreen liked best, and she had felt hurt at his marked avoidance of
her all the afternoon.
"Look here, youngster," said Payne in a low voice, "did Mrs. Rice tell you
that Miss Daleham was engaged to Chunerbutty?"
Travers looked at him in surprise.
"Yes. I told you so the other day. She said that Miss Daleham had confided
to her that they were engaged, but wanted it kept secret for a time until
he could get another job."
"Then, my boy, you'll be pleased to hear it's a damned lie," said Payne
impressively. "Miss Daleham would never marry a black man."
The boy's face lit up.
"I am glad!" he cried impulsively. "I'm very, very sorry, Miss Daleham, for
helping to spread the lie. But I only told Payne. I knew he was a friend of
yours, and I hoped he'd be able to contradict the yarn. For I felt very
sick about it."
"Thank you, Mr. Travers," the girl said gratefully. "But I'm glad that you
did tell him. Otherwise I might not have heard it, at least not from a
friend."
Just then the four men on the tennis-court finished their game and came in
to the bar. Fred Daleham and another took their places and began a single.
Mrs. Rice, with Dermot and several other men, came up the steps of the
verandah, and, sitting down, ordered tea for the party.
Noreen looked at her with angry eyes, and, rising, walked along the
verandah to where she was sitting surrounded by the group of men.
Her enemy looked up as she approached.
"Are you coming to have tea, dear?" she said sweetly. "I haven't ordered
any for you, but I daresay they'll find you a cup."
Dermot rose to offer the girl his chair; but, ignoring him, she confronted
the other woman.
"Mrs. Rice, will you please tell me if it is true that you said I was
engaged to Mr. Chunerbutty?" she demanded in a firm tone.
It was as if a bomb had exploded in the club. Noreen's voice carried
clearly through the building, so that everyone inside it heard her words
distinctly. The only two members of their little community who missed them
were her brother and his opponent on the tennis-court.
Mrs. Rice gasped and stared at the indignant girl, while the men about her
sat up suddenly in their chairs.
"I said so? What an idea!" ejaculated the planter's wife. Then in an
insinuating voice she added: "You know I never betray secrets."
"There is no secret. Please answer me. Did you say to any one that I had
told you I was engaged to him?" persisted the girl.
The older woman tried to crush her by a haughty assumption of superiority.
"You absurd child, you must be careful what accusations you bring. You
shouldn't say such things."
"Kindly answer my question," demanded the angry girl.
Mrs. Rice lay back in her chair with affected carelessness.
"Well, aren't you engaged to him? Won't even he--?" she broke off and
sniggered impertinently.
"I am not. Most certainly not," said Noreen hotly. "I insist on your
answering me. Did you say that I had told you we were and asked you to keep
it a secret?"
"No, I did not. Who did I tell?" snapped the other woman.
"Me for one," broke in a voice; and Dermot took a step forward. "You
told me very clearly and precisely, Mrs. Rice, that Miss Daleham had
confided to you under the pledge of secrecy--which, by the way, you were
breaking--that she was engaged to this man."
There was an uncomfortable pause. Noreen glanced gratefully at her
champion. The other men shifted uneasily, and Mrs. Rice's husband, who was
standing at the bar, hastily hid his face in a whiskey and soda.
Noreen turned again to her traducer.
"Will you kindly contradict your false statement?" she asked.
The other woman looked down sullenly and made no reply.
"Then I shall," continued the girl. She faced the group of men before her,
Payne and Travers by her side.
"I ask you to believe, gentlemen, that there never was nor could be any
question of an engagement between Mr. Chunerbutty and me," she said firmly.
"And I give you my word of honour that I never said such a thing to Mrs.
Rice."
She waited for a moment, then turned and walked away down the verandah,
followed by Payne and Travers, leaving a pained silence behind her. Mrs.
Rice tried to regain her self-confidence.
"The idea of that chit talking to me like that!" she exclaimed. "It was
only meant for a joke, if I did say it. Who'd have ever thought she'd have
taken it that way?"
"Any decent man--or woman, Mrs. Rice," said Dermot severely. Then, after
looking at Rice to see if he wished to take up the cudgels on his wife's
behalf, and failing to catch that gentleman's carefully-averted eye, the
soldier turned and walked deliberately to where Noreen was sitting, now
suffering from the reaction from her anger and frightened at the memory of
her boldness.
The other men got up one by one and went to the bar, from which the hen
pecked Rice was peremptorily called by his angry wife and ordered to drive
her home.
After the Dalehams had returned to their bungalow the girl told her brother
of what had happened at the club. He was exceedingly angry and agreed that
it would be wiser for her to keep Chunerbutty at a distance in future. And
later on he had no objection to her inviting Dermot to pay them a flying
visit when he was again in their neighbourhood. For the incident at the
club had brought about a resumption of the old friendly relations between
Noreen and Dermot, who occasionally invited her to accompany him on Badshah
for a short excursion into the forest, much to her delight. She confided to
him the offer of the necklace and learned in return his belief that the
Rajah was the instigator of the attempt to carry her off. When her brother
heard of this and of Chunerbutty's action in the matter of the jewels he
was so enraged that he quarrelled for the first time with his Hindu friend.
* * * * *
Dermot was kept informed of whatever happened in Lalpuri by the repentant
Rama through the medium of Barclay. For the Deputy Superintendent had been
appointed to a special and important post in the Secret Police and told off
to watch the conspiracy in Bengal. This he owed to a strong recommendation
from Dermot to the Head of the Department in Simla. Rama proved invaluable.
Through him they learned of the despatch of an important Brahmin messenger
and intermediary from the Palace to Bhutan, by way of Malpura, where he was
to visit some of his caste-fellows on Parry's garden. The information
reached Dermot too late to enable him to seize the man on the tea-estate.
So he hurried to the border to intercept the messenger before he crossed
it. But here, too, he was unsuccessful. Certain that the Brahmin had not
slipped through the meshes of the net formed by his secret service of
subsidised Bhuttias, Dermot returned to the jungle to make search for him
along the way. But all to no avail, much to his chagrin; for he had reason
to hope that he would find on the emissary proof enough of the treason of
the rulers of Lalpuri to hang them. He went back to Malpura to prosecute
enquiries.
To console himself for his disappointment Dermot determined to have a day's
shooting in the jungle, a treat he rarely had leisure for now. He invited
the Dalehams to accompany him. Noreen accepted eagerly, but her brother was
obliged to decline, much to his regret. For Parry was now always in a state
bordering on lunacy, and his brutal treatment of the coolies, when his
assistant was not there to restrain him, several times nearly drove them
into open revolt. So Dermot and his companion set off alone.
As they went along they chanced to pass near a little village buried in the
heart of the jungle. A man working on the small patch of cleared soil in
which he and his fellows grew their scanty crops saw them, recognised
Badshah and his male rider, and ran away shouting to the hamlet. Then out
of it swarmed men, women, and children, the last naked, while only
miserable rags clothed the skinny frames of their elders. All prostrated
themselves in the dust in Badshah's path. The elephant stopped. Then a
wizened old man with scanty white beard raised his hands imploringly to
Dermot.
"Lord! Holy One! Have mercy on us!"
The rest chorused: "Have mercy!"
"Spare thy slaves, O Lord!" went on the old man. "Spare us ere all perish.
We worship at thy shrine. We grudge not thy elephants our miserable crops.
Are they not thy servants? But let not the Striped Death slay all of us."
Dermot questioned him and then explained to Noreen that a man-eating tiger
had taken up its residence near the village and was rapidly killing off its
inhabitants.
"Oh, do help them," she said. "Can't you shoot it?"
He reflected for a few moments.
"Yes, I think I know how to get it. Will you wait for me in the village?"
"What? Mayn't I go with you to see you kill it? Please let me. I promise
I'll not scream or be stupid."
He looked at her admiringly.
"Bravo!" he said. "I'm sure you'll be all right. Very well. I promise you
you shall see a sight that not many other women have seen."
He borrowed a _puggri_--a strip of cotton cloth several yards long--from a
villager, and bade them show him where the tiger lay up during the heat of
the day. When they had done so from a safe distance, he turned Badshah,
and, to Noreen's surprise, sped off swiftly in the opposite direction.
Suddenly the girl touched his arm quietly.
"Look! I see a wild elephant. There's another! And another!" she whispered.
"Yes; I've come in search of them," he replied in his ordinary tone. "It's
Badshah's herd."
"Is it really? How wonderful! How did you know where to find them?" she
cried, thrilled by the sight of the great beasts all round them and
exclaiming with delight at the solemn little woolly babies, many newly
born. For this was the calving season.
Dermot uttered a peculiar cry that sent the cow-elephants huddling
together, their young hiding under their bodies, while from every
quarter the great tuskers broke out through the undergrowth and came to
him in a mass. Then, as Badshah turned and set off at a rapid pace, the
bull-elephants followed.
When he arrived near the spot in which the man-eater was said to have his
lair, Dermot stopped them all. Despite her protests he tied Noreen firmly
with the _puggri_ to the rope crossing Badshah's pad. Then he drove his
animal into the herd of tuskers, which had crowded together, and divided
them into two bodies. The tiger was reported to lie up in a narrow _nullah_
filled and fringed with low bushes. From the near bank to where Badshah
stood the forest was free from undergrowth, which came to within a score of
yards of the far bank.
Badshah smelled the ground, and the other elephants followed his example
and, when they scented the tiger's trail, began to be restless and excited.
A sharp cry from Dermot and the two bodies of tuskers separated and moved
away, branching off half right and left, and disappeared in the
undergrowth.
Dermot cocked his double-barrelled rifle. There was a long pause. A strange
feeling of awe crept over Noreen at the realisation of her companion's
strange power over these great animals. No wonder the superstitious natives
believed him to be a god.
Presently there was a loud crashing in the undergrowth beyond the _nullah_,
and Noreen saw the saplings in it agitated, as if by the passage of the
elephants. The tiger gave no sign of life. The girl's heart beat fast, and
her breath came quickly. But her companion never moved.
Suddenly Noreen gasped, for through the screen of thin bushes that fringed
the edge of the _nullah_ a hideous painted mask was thrust out. It was a
tiger's face, the ears flattened to the skull, the eyes flaming, the lips
drawn back to bare the teeth in a ghastly snarl. The brute saw Badshah and
drew quietly back. A pause. Then it sprang into full view and poised for a
single instant on the far bank. But at that very moment the line of tuskers
burst out of the tangled undergrowth and the tiger jumped down into the
_nullah_ again.
Then like a flash it leaped into sight over the near bank, bounding in a
furious charge straight at Badshah. Noreen held her breath as it crouched
to spring. Dermot's rifle was at his shoulder, and he pressed the trigger.
There was a click--the cartridge had missed fire. And the tiger sprang full
at the man.
But as it did so Badshah swung swiftly round--well for Noreen that she was
securely fastened--for he had been standing a little sideways. And with an
upward sweep of his head he caught the leaping tiger in mid-air on the
point of his tusk, hurling it back a dozen yards.
As the baffled brute struck the ground with a heavy thud it lay still for a
second and then sprang up, but at that moment Dermot's second barrel rang
out, and, shot through the brain, the tiger collapsed, its head resting on
its paws. A tremor shook the powerful frame, the tail twitched feebly, then
all was still.
The long line of elephants halted on the far bank of the _nullah_, swung
into file, and moved swiftly out of sight. Their work was done.
Dermot reloaded and urged Badshah forward, covering the tiger with his
rifle. There was no need. It was dead.
Noreen leant forward and looked down at the striped body.
"What a splendid beast!" she exclaimed.
Dermot turned to her.
"You kept your word well, Miss Daleham," he said. "I congratulate you on
your pluck. The highest compliment I can pay you is to say that I forgot
you were there. Not many men would have sat as quiet as you did when the
cartridge missed fire and the brute sprang."
The girl's eyes sparkled and she blushed. His praise was very dear to her.
In a lighter tone he continued:
"As a reward and a souvenir you shall have the skin. I'll get the
villagers to take it off. Now stay on Badshah, please, while I slip down
and have a look at the tiger's little nest."
With rifle at the ready, lest the dead animal should have had a mate,
he climbed down into the _nullah_. He had not gone ten yards before his
foot struck against something hard. In the pressed-down weeds was the
half-gnawed skull of a man. The skin and flesh of the face were fairly
intact. He took the head up in his hands. On the forehead were painted
three white horizontal strokes. The tiger's last prey had been a
Brahmin. A thought flashed across Dermot's mind. He searched about.
A few bones, parts of the hands and feet, some rags of clothing--and
a long flat narrow leather case. He tore this open and hastily took
out the papers it contained; and as he skimmed through them his eyes
glistened with delight.
He sprang up out of the _nullah_ and ran towards Badshah. When the
elephant's trunk had swung him up on to the massive head he said:
"We must go back at once. I 'll tell the villagers as we pass to flay the
tiger. I must borrow your brother's pony and ride as fast as I can to
Salchini to get Payne's motor to take me to the railway."
"The railway?" exclaimed the girl. "Why, what is the matter? Where are you
going?"
"To Simla. I've found the lost messenger. Aye, and perhaps information that
may save India and proofs that will hang our friends in the Palace of
Lalpuri. _Mul_, Badshah!"