TIGER LAND
Wargrave fired. His shot struck the panther rather far back, wounding
but not disabling it. It swung round to face its assailant. Seeing Frank
it promptly charged. The second cartridge took it in front of the
shoulder and raked its body from end to end. Coughing blood the beast
rolled over and over, biting its paws, clawing savagely at the earth,
trying to rise and falling back in fury, while Frank rapidly reloaded
and stepped between it and the children. But the convulsions became
fewer and less violent, the limbs stiffened, the beautiful black and
yellow body sank inert to the ground. The tail twitched a little. A few
tremors shook the panther. Then it lay still.
The subaltern turned eagerly to the children.
"It's Frank. Look, Eileen, it's Frank," cried Brian. "He's killed the
nasty dog."
The little girl, who had sunk to the ground, struggled to her feet and
with her brother was swept up in a joyous embrace by the subaltern.
Then, bidding the boy hold on to the sleeve of the arm carrying the gun,
Wargrave started back with Eileen perched on his shoulder. As they
passed the panther's body she looked down at it and clapped her hands.
"He's deaded. Nasty, bad dog!" she cried.
Striking a path through the undergrowth the subaltern climbed down the
steep ravine that lay between the hill and the Political Officer's
bungalow. As he struggled up the steep side of the _nullah_ he heard
their mother calling the children with a note of inquietude in her
voice; and he answered her with a reassuring shout. Coming up on the
level behind the low stone wall of the garden he found Mrs. Dermot and
Muriel anxiously awaiting him.
"Mumsie! Hallo, Mumsie! Here's me. Fwank shooted bad dog," cried Eileen,
waving her arms and kicking her bearer violently in her excitement.
"Yes, Mumsie, Frank killded the nasty dog that wanted to eat us," added
Brian.
Wargrave passed the children over the wall into the anxious arms
outstretched for them, then vaulted into the garden.
"What has happened, Mr. Wargrave?" asked Mrs. Dermot, pressing her
children to her nervously. "What is this about your shooting a dog?"
The subaltern told the story briefly.
"Oh, my babies! My babies!" cried the mother with tears in her eyes,
clasping the mites to her breast and kissing them frantically. The
little woman who had many times faced death undauntedly at her husband's
side broke down utterly at the thought of her children's peril.
She overwhelmed Wargrave with her thanks, while Muriel complimented him
on his promptness and presence of mind and then scolded the urchins for
their disobedience in wandering away from the garden by themselves. But
the unrepentant pair smiled genially at her from the shelter of their
mother's arms and assured her that "Fwankie" would always take care of
them. Their mother, even when she grew more composed, could not be
severe after so nearly losing them; but although unwilling to terrify
them by a recital of the awful fate from which the subaltern had saved
them by the merest chance, she impressed upon them again and again her
oft-repeated warning that they must never leave the garden alone.
But they were not awed; so, bidding them thank and kiss him, she bore
them off to bed, her eyes still full of tears.
Wargrave sent a servant to fetch his orderly and the detachment _mochi_,
or cobbler, to skin the panther, the news of the death of which soon
spread. So Major Hunt and Burke joined Miss Benson and the subaltern
when they went to look at its body, and numbers of sepoys streamed up
from the Fort to view the animal, which had long been notorious in the
station. Lamps had to be brought to finish the skinning of it; and the
hide, when taken off, was carried in triumph to the Mess compound to be
cured.
On the following afternoon on the tennis-court in a corner of the
parade ground Miss Benson was left with Burke and Wargrave when Mrs.
Dermot had taken her children home at sunset.
"You've completely won her heart," the girl said to the subaltern,
pointing with her racquet to the disappearing form of her friend.
"Nothing's too good for you for saving these precious mites. But she'll
never let them out of her sight again until their big nurse returns."
"You mean their elephant? Well, of course he's a marvellously
well-trained animal; but is he really so reliable that he can always be
trusted to look after those children?"
"Badshah is something very much more than a well-trained animal. Perhaps
some time out in the jungle you may understand why the natives regard
him as sacred and call Colonel Dermot the 'God of the Elephants.' You
don't know Badshah as we do."
"Well, old Burke here has told me some strange yarns about him. But, as
he's always pulling my leg, I never know when to believe him."
The doctor grinned.
"We won't waste words on him, Captain Burke," said the girl. "It's time
to go home now."
They escorted her to the Dermots' bungalow, where the doctor lingered
for a few more minutes in her society, while Wargrave climbed up to the
Mess and went to look at the panther's skin pegged out on the ground
under a thick coating of ashes and now as hard as a board after a day's
exposure to the burning sun.
A few days later Miss Benson left the station to rejoin her father in
one of the three or four isolated wooden bungalows built to accommodate
the Forest Officer in different parts of his district, each one lost and
lonely in the silent jungle. For days after her departure Burke was
visibly depressed; and Wargrave, too, missed the bright and attractive
girl who had enlivened the quiet little station during her stay.
A fortnight later Colonel Dermot returned from Bhutan; and his gratitude
to the subaltern for the rescue of his children was sincere and
heart-felt. He was only too glad to take the young man out into the
jungle on every possible occasion and continue his instruction in the
ways of the forest. This companionship and the sport were particularly
beneficial to Wargrave just then. For they served to take him out of
himself and raise him from the state of depression into which he was
falling, thanks to Violet's letters, the tone of which was becoming more
bitter each time she wrote.
Her reply to his long and cheery epistle describing Ranga Duar's unusual
burst of gaiety during the Envoy's visit and his own rescue of the
children was as follows:
"You do not seem to miss me much among your new friends. While I am
leading a most unhappy and miserable life here you appear to be
enjoying yourself and giving little thought to me. You are lucky to
have two such very beautiful ladies to make much of you; and I
daresay they think you a wonderful hero for saving the little brats
who, if they are like most children, would not be much loss. Their
mother seems extremely friendly to you for such a devoted wife as
you try to make her out to be. Or perhaps it is the girl you admire
most; this marvellous young lady who shoots tigers and apparently
manages the whole Terai Forest. You say you love me; but you don't
seem to be pining very much for me. While each day that comes since
you left me is a fresh agony to me, you appear to contrive to be
quite happy without me."
This letter stung Wargrave like the lash of a whip across the face. To
do Violet justice no sooner had she sent it than she regretted it. But
deeply hurt as he was by the bitter words he forgave her; for he felt
that her life was indeed miserable and that he was unconsciously in a
great measure to blame for its being so. But it maddened him to realise
his present helplessness to alter matters. He was more than willing to
sacrifice himself to help her; but it would be a long time before he
could hope to save enough to pay his debts and make a home for her.
Whether it was wicked or not to take away another man's wife did not
occur to him; all that he knew was that a woman was unhappy and he alone
could help her. It seemed to him that the sin--if sin there were--was
the husband's, who starved her heart and rendered her miserable.
In his distress work and sport proved his salvation. He threw himself
heart and soul into his duty, and whenever there was nothing for him to
do with the detachment Major Hunt encouraged him to go with the
Political Officer into the jungle. For little as he suspected it the
senior guessed the young man's trouble and watched him sympathisingly.
One never-to-be-forgotten day as Wargrave was returning from afternoon
parade Colonel Dermot called to him from his gate and showed him a
telegram. It ran: "Tiger marked down. Come immediately _dâk_ bungalow,
Madpur Duar. Muriel."
As the subaltern perused it with delight the Colonel said:
"Ask your C.O. for leave. Then, if he gives it, get something
substantial to eat in the Mess and be ready to start at once. Madpur
Duar is thirty odd miles away; and we'll have to travel all night. Come
to my bungalow as soon as you can."
Half an hour later the two were trudging down the road to the
_peelkhana_ carrying their rifles. Badshah, with a _howdah_ roped on to
his pad, plodded behind them; for it is far more comfortable to walk
down a steep descent than be carried down it by an elephant. At the foot
of the hills they mounted and were borne away into the gathering shadows
of the long road through the forest. As they proceeded their talk was
all of tigers; for in India, though there be bigger and more splendid
game in the land, its traditional animal never fails to interest, and
to Wargrave on his way to his first tiger-shoot all other topics were
insignificant.
The sun went down and darkness settled on the forest. The talk died away
and no sound was heard but the soft padding of their elephant's huge
feet in the dust of the road. The subaltern soon found the _howdah_
infinitely more trying than a seat on the pad when Badshah was in
motion; for the plunging gait of the animal jerked him backwards and
forwards and threw him against the wooden rails if he forgot to hold
himself at arm's length from them. The discomfort spoiled his
appreciation of the strange, attractive experience of being borne by
night through the sleepless forest, where in the dark hours only the
bird and the monkey repose; and even to them the creeping menace of the
climbing snake affrights the one and the wheeling shapes of the
night-flying birds of prey scare the other. But on the ground all are
awake. The glimmering whiteness of the road was occasionally blotted by
the scurrying forms of animals, hunted and hunters, dashing across it.
Once a tiny shriek in the distance broke the silence of the jungle.
"A wild elephant," said Colonel Dermot.
Then followed the loud crashing of rending boughs and falling trees.
"That's a herd feeding. They graze until about ten o'clock and then
sleep on well into the small hours, wake and begin to feed again at
dawn," continued the Political Officer.
Once a wild, unearthly wailing cry that seemed to come from every
direction at once startled the subaltern:
"Good Heavens! what's that?" he exclaimed, gripping his rifle and trying
to pierce the darkness around them.
"Only a Giant Owl," was the reply. "It's an uncanny noise. There!"
Right over their heads it rang out again; and the stars above them were
blotted out for a moment by a dark, circling shape above the tree-tops.
Hour after hour went by as they were borne along through the night; and
Wargrave bruised and battered by the _howdah_-rails, fell constantly
against them, so overcome with sleep was he. At last to his relief his
companion called a halt for a few hours' rest; and they brought the
elephant to his knees, dismounted and stripped him of _howdah_ and pad.
Sitting on the latter they supped on sandwiches and coffee from Thermos
flasks, and then stretched themselves to sleep, while Badshah standing
over them grazed on the grasses and branches within reach. Wargrave was
dropping off to sleep when he was roused by the sharp, _staccato_ bark
of a _khakur_ buck repeated several times. The tired man lost
consciousness and was sunk in profound slumber when the silence of the
forest was shattered by a snorting, braying roar that rang through the
jungle with alarming suddenness.
Wargrave sprang up and groped for his rifle. But his companion lay
tranquilly on the pad.
"It's all right. It's only a tiger that's missed his spring and is angry
about it," he said sleepily. "Lie down again."
"Only a tiger, sir?" repeated Wargrave. "But it sounded close by."
"Yes, but Badshah will look after us. Don't worry"; and the Colonel
turned over and fell asleep.
It was a little time, however, before Frank followed his example, and he
had his rifle under his hand when he did. But the dark bulk of the
elephant towering over them comforted him as he sank to sleep.
A couple of hours later they were on their way again. It was broad
daylight before they emerged from the jungle. It seemed strange to be
out once more in the wide-stretching, open and cultivated plains and to
look back on the great forest and, beyond it, to the mountains towering
to the sky. Before them lay the flat expanse of the hedgeless, fertile
fields dotted here and there with clusters of trimly-built huts or thick
groves of bamboos and seamed with the lines of deep _nullahs_, the tops
of the trees in them barely showing above the level and marking their
winding course.
The _dâk_ bungalow at Madpur Duar was soon reached, a single-storied
building with a couple of trees shading the well behind it and a group
of elephants and their _mahouts_. On the verandah Benson and his
daughter were standing, the girl dressed in a khaki drill coat and skirt
over breeches and soft leather gaiters, and waving a welcome to
Badshah's riders.
After a hurried breakfast the latter were ready to start for the day's
sport. By then a line of ten female elephants, the tallest carrying a
_howdah_, the rest only their pads, was drawn up before the bungalow;
and at a word from their _mahouts_ their trunks went up in the air and
the animals trumpeted in salute as the party came out on the verandah.
"We borrowed Mr. Carter's and the Settlement Officer's elephants for the
beat," said Miss Benson, as, wearing a big pith sunhat and carrying a
double-barrelled .400 cordite rifle, she led the way down the verandah
steps.
It had been arranged that she was to take Wargrave with her in her
_howdah_, while her father accompanied Colonel Dermot on Badshah. Her
big elephant knelt down and a ladder was laid against its side, up which
she climbed, followed by the subaltern. When all were mounted she led
the way across the plain. Although the ground was everywhere level and
just there uncultivated the elephants tailed off in single file as is
the habit of their kind, wild or domesticated, each stepping with
precise care into the footprints of the one in front of it. Here in the
Plains the heat was intense; and Wargrave, shading his eyes from the
blinding glare, thought enviously of the coolness up in the mountains
that he had left. As they moved along Muriel explained to him how the
beat was to be conducted.
Where the southern fringe of the Terai Jungle borders the cultivated
country it is a favourite haunt of tigers, which from its shelter carry
on war against the farmers' cattle. Creeping down the ravines seaming
the soft soil and worn by the streams that flow through the forest from
the hills they pull down the cows grazing or coming to drink in the
_nullahs_, which are filled with small trees and scrubs affording good
cover. A tiger, when it has killed, drags the carcase of its prey into
shade near water, eats a hearty meal of about eighty pounds of flesh,
drinks and then sleeps until it is ready to feed again. If disturbed it
retreats up the ravine to the forest.
So, beating for one with elephants here, the sportsmen place themselves
on their _howdah_-bearing animals between the jungle and the spot where
the tiger is known to be lying up, and the beater elephants enter the
scrub from the far side and shepherd him gently towards the guns.
Pointing to a distant line of tree-tops showing above the level plain
she said:
"There is the _nullah_ in which, about a mile farther on, a cow was
killed yesterday. I hope the tiger is still lying up in it. We'll soon
see."
They reached the ravine, which was twenty or thirty feet deep and
contained a little stream flowing through tangled scrub, and moved along
parallel to it and about a couple of hundred yards away. Presently the
girl pointed to a tall tree growing in it and a quarter of a mile ahead
of them. Its upper branches were bending under the weight of numbers of
foul-looking bald-headed vultures, squawking, huddled together, jostling
each other on their perches and pecking angrily at their neighbours with
irritable cries. Some circled in the air and occasionally swooped down
towards the ground only to rocket up again affrightedly to the sky; for
the tiger lay by its kill and resented the approach of any daring bird
that aspired to share the feast. Muriel hurriedly explained how the
conduct of the birds indicated the beast's presence.
"If he were not there they'd be down tearing the carcase to pieces," she
said, as she held up her hand and halted the file behind her.
"The beater elephants had better stop here, Colonel," she called out to
Dermot. "There is a way down and across the _nullah_, by which you can
take Badshah to the far side. We will remain on this."
The Political Officer, who had seen and realised the significance of the
vultures, waved his hand and moved off at once. Muriel called up the
_mahouts_ and bade them enter the ravine and begin the beat in about ten
minutes, then told her driver to go on. Half a mile beyond the tree she
ordered him to halt and take up a position close to the edge of the
_nullah_, into which they could look down. Below them the bottom was
clear of scrub which ended fifty yards away. Dermot stopped opposite;
and both elephants were turned to face towards the spot where the tiger
was judged to be.
"Mr Wargrave, get to the front of the _howdah_ and be ready," she said
in a low tone.
The subaltern protested chivalrously against taking the best place.
"Oh, it's all right. We've brought you out to get the tiger; so you must
do as you're told. If he breaks out this side take the first shot," she
said peremptorily.
He submitted and took up his position with cocked rifle. As the _nullah_
wound a good deal the tops of the trees in it prevented them from seeing
if the beater-elephants had gone in; but in a few minutes they heard
distant shouts and the crashing of the undergrowth as the big animals
forced their way through the scrub.
"Be ready, Mr. Wargrave," whispered the girl. "Sometimes a tiger starts
on the run at the first sound."
His nerves a-quiver and his heart beating violently the subaltern held
his rifle at the ready, as the noise of the beaters drew nearer. Again
and again he brought the butt to his shoulder, only to lower it when he
realised that it was a false alarm. The sounds of the beat grew louder
and closer, and still there was no sign of the tiger. Frank's heart
sank. He saw the vultures stir uneasily and some rise into the air as
the elephants passed under them.
At last through the trees he began to catch occasional glimpses of the
_mahouts_, and he lost hope. But suddenly from the scrub below them in
the _nullah_ a number of small birds flew up; and the next instant the
edge of the bushes nearest them was parted stealthily and a tiger slunk
cautiously out in the bottom of the ravine.
Wargrave's rifle went up to his shoulder; and he fired. A startled roar
from the beast told that it was hit; but it bounded in a flash across
the ravine and up the steep bank on their side not forty yards from
them. As it scrambled swiftly over the edge it caught sight of the
elephant and with a deep "wough!" charged straight at it.
Frank fired again, and his bullet struck up the dust, missing the
swift-rushing animal by a couple of feet. The next moment with a roar
the tiger sprang at the elephant. With one leap it landed with its hind
paws on the elephant's head, its fore-feet on the front rail of the
_howdah_, standing right over the _mahout_ who crouched in terror on the
neck. The savage, snarling, yellow-and-black mask was thrust almost
into Wargrave's face, and from the open red mouth lined with fierce
white fangs he could feel the hot breath on his cheek as he tugged
frantically at the under-lever of his rifle to open the breech and
re-load. In another moment the tiger would have been on top of them in
the _howdah_ when a gun-barrel shot past the subaltern and pushed him
aside. The muzzle of Muriel's rifle was pressed almost against the
brute's skull as she fired.
Frank hardly heard the report. All he knew was that the snarling face
disappeared as quickly as it had come. The whole thing was an affair of
seconds. Shot through the brain the tiger dropped back to the ground
with a heavy thud and fell dead beside the staunch elephant which had
never moved all through the terrible ordeal.
A cry of relief and a prayer to Allah burst from the grey-bearded
Mahommedan _mahout_, as he straightened himself; and Wargrave turned
with glowing face and outstretched hand to the girl.
"Oh, well done! Splendidly done!" he cried. "You saved me from being
lugged bodily out of the _howdah_ or at least from being mauled. This
lever jammed and I couldn't re-load."
Her eyes shining and face beaming with excitement she shook his hand.
"Wasn't it thrilling? I thought he'd have got both of us." Then to the
_mahout_ she continued in Urdu, "Gul Dad, are you hurt?"
The man was solemnly feeling himself all over. He stared at a rent in
the shoulder of his coat, torn by the tiger's claw. It was the only
injury that he had suffered. He put his finger on it and grumbled:
"Missie-_baba_, the _shaitan_ (devil) has torn my coat."
In the reaction from the strain the girl and Wargrave went off in peals
of laughter at his words.
"But are you not wounded?" Miss Benson repeated. "Has it not clawed
you?"
The _mahout_ shook his head.
"No, missie-_baba_; but it was my new coat," he insisted.[1]
[1] A similar incident occurred in real life near Alipur Duar in
Eastern Bengal to a lady and an officer on a female elephant named
Dundora during a beat. But in this case it was the man that killed
the tiger with his second rifle when it was standing on the
elephant's head with its fore-paws on the _howdah_-rail. I can
personally testify to Dundora's immobility when facing a charging
tiger.--THE AUTHOR.
Frank looked down at the tiger stretched motionless on the yellow grass.
"By George, you shot him dead enough, Miss Benson!" he exclaimed.
She stared down at the animal.
"Yes; but it's well to be careful. I've seen a tiger look as dead as
that and yet spring up and maul a man who approached it incautiously,"
she said.
She raised her rifle and covered the prostrate animal.
"Throw something at it," she continued.
Wargrave took out a couple of heavy, copper-cased cartridges and flung
them one by one at the tiger's head, striking it on the jaw and in the
eye. The animal did not move.
"Seems dead enough," said the girl, lowering her rifle. "Here come the
beaters."
The other elephants had now burst out in line through the scrub. Their
_mahouts_ shouted enquiries to Gul Dad and when they heard of the
tiger's death cheered gleefully, for it meant _backsheesh_ to them.
Badshah was seen to be searching for a way down into the nullah and in a
few minutes brought his passengers up alongside Miss Benson and the
subaltern. Her father and Dermot congratulated the girl warmly; and the
latter, having made Badshah kick the tiger to make certain that it was
dead, dismounted and examined it.
"Here's your shot, Wargrave," he said, pointing to a hole in the belly.
"A bit too low, but it made a nasty wound that would have killed the
beast eventually."
"I'm so ashamed of missing it with my second barrel, sir," said the
subaltern. "But for Miss Benson I'd have been a gone coon."
"Yes, it certainly looked exciting enough from our side of the
_nullah_," said the Colonel, smiling; "so what must it have been like
from where you were? Well, anyhow it's your tiger."
"Oh, nonsense, sir; it's Miss Benson's. I ought to be kicked for being
such a muff."
"Jungle law, Mr. Wargrave," said the girl, laughing "You hit it first,
so it's your beast."
"You needn't be ashamed of missing it," added the Colonel. "A charging
tiger coming full speed at you is not an easy mark. No; the skin is
yours; and Muriel has so many that she can spare it."
"Well, Miss Benson, I accept it as a gift from you; but I won't
acknowledge that I have earned it," said the subaltern.
"Now, we'd better pad it and see about getting back," said Dermot,
looking at his watch.
The other elephants had now found their way up the bank and joined
Badshah and his companion. When their _mahouts_ heard from Gul Dad the
story of the tiger's death they exclaimed in amazement and admiration:
"_Ahré, Chai_! (Oh, brother!) Truly the missie-_baba_ is a wonder. She
will be the death of many tigers, indeed," they said.
Then each in turn brought his elephant up to the prostrate animal and
made her smell and strike it with her trunk in order to inspire her with
contempt for tigers. Colonel Dermot measured it with a tape and found it
to be nine feet six inches from nose to tip of tail. It was a young,
fully-grown male in splendid condition. Then came the troublesome
business of "padding" it, that is, hoisting it on to the pad of one of
the elephants to bring it back to the bungalow to be skinned. It was not
an easy matter. For the tiger weighed nearly three hundred and fifty
pounds; and to raise the limp carcase, which sagged like a feather bed
at every spot where there was not a man to support it, was a difficult
task. But it was achieved at last; and with the tiger roped firmly on a
pad the elephants started back in single file.
As they went over the plain in the burning sun Wargrave looked back to
where the striped body was borne along with stiff, dangling legs.
"By Jove, it's been great, Miss Benson," he exclaimed. "Some people say
tiger shooting's not exciting. They ought to have been with us to-day. I
am lucky to have got a bison already and now to have seen this. With
luck I'll be having a shot at an elephant next."
The girl replied in a serious tone:
"Don't say that to Colonel Dermot. Elephants are his especial friends.
Besides, you are only allowed to shoot rogues; and since he's been here
there have been none in these jungles which formerly swarmed with them.
There's no doubt that he has a wonderful, uncanny control over even wild
elephants. Do you know that once a rajah tried to have him killed in his
palace by a mad tusker, which had just slaughtered several men, and the
moment the brute got face to face with him it was cowed and obeyed him
like a dog?"
"Good gracious, is that so?"
"Yes, I could tell you even more extraordinary things about his power
over elephants; but some day when you're in the jungle with him you may
see it for yourself. Oh, isn't it hot? I do wish we were home."
Arrived at the _dâk_ bungalow the tiger's carcase was lowered to the
ground and given over to the knives of the flayers summoned from the
_bazaar_ of Madpur Duar a mile away. As soon as the news was known in
the small town crowds of Hindu women streamed to the bungalow compound,
where with their _saris_ (shawls) pulled modestly across their brown
faces by rounded arms tinkling with glass bangles they squatted on the
ground and waited patiently until the skin was drawn clear off the raw
red carcase. Then they crowded around a couple of the older _mahouts_
who, first cutting off all the firm white fat of the well-fed cattle
thief to be melted down for oil (esteemed to be a sovereign remedy for
rheumatism), hacked the flesh into chunks which they threw into the
eager hands of the women. These took the meat home to cook for their
husbands to eat to instil into them the spirit and vigour of a tiger.
The skin, spread out and pegged to the ground, was covered with wood
ashes and left to dry. Little of the animal was left but the bones, to
the disappointment of the wheeling, whistling kites waiting on soaring
wings in the sky above.
After tea the two officers took their leave with many expressions of
gratitude from the younger man to the girl for her kindness in arranging
the beat for him. Hours afterwards, as they halted in the forest for a
rest in the middle of the night, Colonel Dermot said:
"You told me once that you'd like a job like mine, Wargrave. Would you
care for frontier political work here?"
"I'd love it, sir," exclaimed the subaltern enthusiastically. "Would it
be possible to get it?"
"Well, I've been thinking for some time of applying to the Government of
India for an assistant political officer who would help me and take over
if I went on leave, but I'd want to train my own man and not merely
accept any youngster who was pitchforked into the Department just
because he had a father or an uncle with a pull at Simla. Now, if you
like I'll apply for you, on condition that you'll work at Bhutanese and
the frontier dialects. I'll teach them to you."
"I'd like nothing better, sir. I'm not bad at languages."
"Yes, I've noticed that your Hindustani is very good and idiomatic. I've
been watching you and I like your manner with natives. One must be
sympathetic, kind and just, but also firm with them. Well, I'll try
you. The rainy season will be on us very soon, and then all outdoor work
and sport will be impossible. One dare not go into the jungle--it's too
full of malaria and blackwater fever. The planters and Forest Officers
have to cage themselves in wire gauze 'mosquito houses.' During the
rains you'll have plenty of time to work at the languages."
"Thank you very much, Colonel. I promise you I'll go at them hard."
"You'll have a fellow-student for part of the time. Miss Benson's coming
to stay with us during the Monsoons for a bit; and she has asked me to
teach her Bhutanese, too. She wants it, as she has to deal with Bhuttia
woodcutters and hill folk generally. Well, that's fixed. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, sir," answered the subaltern, as he lay down on the pad and
stared at the stars. He was overjoyed at Colonel Dermot's offer, and as
he dropped asleep it was with a thrill of pleasure that he realised he
would see something more of the girl who had been his companion that
day.