"I'm afraid, Nesta, my child, that your soldier friends will have to
alight somewhere else if they want any chikor," pronounced Campian,
subsiding upon a boulder to light his pipe. "We've railroaded them
around this valley to such purpose that you can't get within a couple of
hundred yards. When are they due, by the way--the sodgers, not the
chikor?"
"To-day, I think. They have been threatening for the last fortnight."
"Threatening! Ingrate! Only think what a blessing their arrival will
shed. You will hear all the latest `gup' from Shalalai, and have a
couple of devoted poodles, all eagerness to frisk, and fetch and carry--
wagging their tails for approving pats, and all that sort of thing. And
you must be tired of this very quiet life, unrelieved save by a couple
of old fogies like yours truly and Upward?"
"Ah, I'm tired of the `gup' of Shalalai. I'm not sure I'm not quite
tired of soldiers."
"That begins to look brisk for me, my dear girl, I being--bar Upward--
nearly the only civilian in Baluchistan. The only flaw in this to me
alluring vista now opened out is--how long will it last? First of all,
sit down. There's no fun in standing unnecessarily."
She sat down on the boulder beside him, and began to play with the
smoothness of the barrels of the gun, which leaned against the rock
between them. It was early morning. These two had strolled _off_ down
the valley together directly after _chota hazri_--as they had taken to
doing of late. A couple of brace of chikor lay on the ground at their
feet, the smallness of the "bag" bearing out the accuracy of Campian's
prognostication as to the decadence of that form of sport. The sun,
newly risen, was flooding the valley with a rush of golden ether;
reddening the towering crags, touching, with a silver wand, the carpet
of dewdrops in the valley bottom, and mist-hung spider webs which
spanned the juniper boughs--while from many a slab-like cliff came the
crowing of chikor, pretty, defiant in the safety of altitude--rejoicing
in the newly-risen dawn.
Some fifty yards off, Bhallu Khan, having spread his chuddah on the
ground, and put the shoes from off his feet--was devoutly performing the
prescribed prostrations in the direction of the Holy City, repeating the
while the aspirations and ascriptions wherewith the Faithful--good, bad
and indifferent--are careful to hallow the opening of another day.
"You were asserting yourself tired of the garrison," went on Campian.
"Yes? And wherefore this--caprice, since but the other day you were
sworn to the sabre?"
"Was I? Well perhaps I've changed my mind. I may do that, you know.
But I don't like any of those at Shalalai. And--the nice ones are all
married."
This escaped her so spontaneously, so genuinely, that Campian burst out
laughing.
"Oh that's the grievance, is it?" he said. "And what about the others
who are--not nice?"
"Oh, I just fool them. Some of them think they're fooling me. I let it
go far enough, and then they suddenly find out I've been fooling them.
It's rather a joke."
"Ever taken anyone seriously?"
"That's telling."
"All right, then. Don't tell."
She looked up at him quickly. Her eyes seemed to be trying to read his
face, which, beyond a slightly amused elevation of one eyebrow, was
absolutely expressionless.
"Well, I have then," she said, with a half laugh.
"So? Tell us all about it, Nessita."
She looked up quickly--"I say, that's rather a good name--I like it. It
sounds pretty. No one ever called me that before."
"Accept it from me, then."
"Yes, I will. But, do you know--it's awful cheek of you to call me by
my name at all. When did you first begin doing it, by the way?"
"Don't know. I suppose it came so natural as not to mark an epoch.
Couldn't locate the exact day or hour to save my life. Shall I return
to `Miss Cheriton?'"
"You never did say that. You never called me anything--until--"
"Likely. It's a little way I have. I say--It's rather fun chikor
shooting in the early morning. What?"
"That means, I suppose, that you're tired of talking, and would like to
go on." And she rose from her seat.
"Not at all. Sit down again. That's right. For present purposes it
means that you won't go out with me any more like this of a morning
after those two Johnnies come."
"You won't want me then. You can all go out together. I should only be
in the way."
"That remark would afford nine-tenths of the British Army the
opportunity of retorting, `_You_ could never be that.' I, however, will
be brutally singular. Very probably you would be in the way--"
"Thanks."
"_If_ we all went out together--I was going to say when you interrupted
me."
A touch on the arm interrupted _hint_. It came from Bhallu Khan, who,
having concluded his devotions was standing at Campian's side, making
vehement gesticulations of warning and silence.
"Eh--what is it?" whispered Campian, looking eagerly in the direction
pointed at by the other.
The forester shook his head, and continued to gesticulate. Then he put
both forefingers to his head, one on each side above the ears, pointing
upwards.
"Does he mean he has seen the devil?" said Campian wonderingly. "I
guess he's trying to make us understand `horns.'"
Nesta exploded in a peal of laughter, which, though melodious enough to
human ears, must have had a terrifying effect on whatever had been
designated by Bhallu Khan. He ceased to point eagerly through the
scrub, but his new gesticulations meant unmistakably that the thing,
whatever it might be, was gone.
All the Hindustani they could muster between them--and that wasn't
much--failed to make the old forester understand. He smiled talked--
then smiled again. Then they all laughed together--But that was all.
Although actually on the scene of his midnight peril, Campian gave that
experience no further thought. Nearly a fortnight had gone by since
then, and no further alarm had occurred. Bhallu Khan had made inquiries
and in the result had learned that the adjacent and then somewhat
dreaded Marri tribe was innocent of the playful little event which had
so nearly terminated Campian's allotted span of joys and sorrows. The
assailants were Brahuis, of a notoriously marauding clan of that tribe,
located in the Khelat district. What they were doing here, so far away
from their own part of the country, however, he had not learned, or, if
he had, for reasons of his own he kept it to himself. This intelligence
lifted what shadow of misgiving might have lingered in the minds of
Upward and his wife, as showing that the incident was a mere chance
affair, and no indication of restlessness or hostility on the part of
the tribesmen in their own immediate neighbourhood.
Another fact gleaned by Bhallu Khan was that the man who had fallen to
Campian's shot was not killed--nor even fatally wounded. This relieved
all their minds, especially that of the shooter. It saved all sorts of
potential trouble in the way of investigation and so forth--likewise it
dispelled sundry unpleasant visions of a blood feud, which now and then
would obtrude in spite of all efforts at reasoning them away; for these
fierce fanatical mountaineers were hardly the men to suffer bloodshed to
pass unavenged. However, no one was much hurt, and the marauders had
taken themselves off to their own side of the country. Thus for about
ten days had life in Upward's camp held on its way just as though no
narrow escape of grim tragedy had thrown the visitor into its midst.
Its inmates rejoiced in the open air life, and, save at night or for an
afternoon siesta, were seldom indoors. The male section thereof,
notwithstanding plentiful denunciation of the wily chikor and its ways,
devoted much time to the pursuit of that exasperating biped, and all
would frequently join hands in exploring the surrounding country--tiffin
accompanying--to be laid out picnic fashion at some picturesque spot,
whether of breezy height or in the cool shade of a _tangi_. Thus did
Upward perform his forest inspections, combining business with
pleasure--and everybody was content.
And this statement we make of set purpose. No more aspirations after a
return to Shalalai were now in the air. The infusion of a new element
into the daily life of the camp seemed to make a difference. Campian
and the two younger girls were friends of old. He did not mind their
natural cheekiness--he had a great liking for them, and it only amused
him; moreover, it kept things lively. And Nesta Cheriton--sworn
worshipper of the sabre, speedily came to the conclusion that all that
was entertaining and companionable was not a monopoly vested in the
wearers of Her Majesty's uniform.
For between her and the new arrival a very good understanding had been
set up--a very good understanding indeed. But he, in the maturity of
years and experience, made light of what might have set another man
thinking. They were thrown together these two--and camp life is apt to
throw people very much together--He was the only available male,
wherefore she made much of him. Given, however, the appearance of two
or three lively subalterns on the scene, and he thought he knew how the
land would lie. But the consciousness in no wise disquieted him; on the
contrary it afforded him a little good-humouredly cynical amusement. He
knew human nature, as peculiar to either sex no less than as common to
both, and he had reached a point in life when the preferences of the
ornamental sex, for any permanent purpose, mattered nothing. But the
study of it as a mere subject of dissection did afford him a very great
amount of entertainment.
Mature cynic as he was, yet now, looking down at the girl at his side as
they took their way back through the wild picturesque valley bottom, the
dew shining like silver in the fast ascending sun, a moist woodland
odour arising from beneath the juniper trees, he could not but admit to
himself that her presence here made a difference--a very great
difference. She was wondrously pretty, in the fair, golden-haired
style; had pretty ways too--soft, confiding--and a trick of looking up
at one that was a trifle dangerous. Only that he felt rather sure it
was all part of her way with the male sex in general, and not turned on
for his benefit in particular, he might have wondered.
"Well?" she said, looking up suddenly, "what is it all about?"
"You. I was thinking a great deal about you. Now you are going to say
I had much better have been talking to you."
"No. But tell me what you were thinking."
"I was thinking how deftly you got away from that question of mine--
about the one occasion when you _did_ take someone seriously. Now tell
us all about it."
"Ah--I'm not going to tell you."
"Not, eh?"
"No--no--no! Perhaps some day."
"Well you'll have to look sharp, for I'm off in a day or two."
"No? you're not!" she cried, in a tone very like that of real
consternation. "Ah, you're just trying to crowd it on. Why, you're
here for quite a long time."
"Very well. You'll see. Only, don't say I never told you."
"But you mustn't go. You needn't. Look here--You're not to."
"That sounds rather nice--Very nice indeed. And wherefore am I not to
go, Nessita, mine angel?"
"Because I don't want you to. You're rather a joke, you know, and--"
"--And--what?"
"Nothing."
"That ought to settle it. Only I don't flatter myself my departure will
leave any gap. Remaineth there not a large garrison at Shalalai--horse,
foot, and artillery?"
"Oh, hang the garrison at Shalalai! You're detestable. I don't like
you any more."
"No? Well what will make you like me any more?"
"If you stay."
"That settles it. I cannot depart in the face of that condition," he
answered, the gravity of his words and tone simply belied by a whimsical
twinkle of the eyes. She, looking up, saw this.
"Ah, I believe you've been cramming all the time. I'll ask Mr Upward
when we get in, and if you have, I'll never forgive you."
"Spare thyself the trouble O petulant one, for it would be futile in any
case. If I have been telling nasty horrid wicked little taradiddles,
Upward won't give me away, for I shall tip him the masonic wink not to.
_You_ won't spot it, though you are staring us both in the face all the
time. So you'll have to keep your blind faith in me, anyhow. Hallo!
Stay still a minute. There are some birds."
In and out among the grass and stones, running like barn-door fowl was a
large covey. This time a whoop and a handful of gravel from Bhallu Khan
was effective. The covey rose with a jarring "whirr" as one bird. A
double shot--a bird fell to each.
"Right and left. That's satisfactory. I'm getting my hand in,"
remarked Campian. "They're right away," looking after the covey, "and I
feel like breakfast time. Glad we are almost back."
The white tents half-hidden in the apricot tope, and sheltered by the
fresh and budding green, looked picturesque enough against a background
of rugged and stony mountain ridge, the black vertical jaws of the
_tangi_, now waterless, yawning grim like the jaws of some silent
waiting monster. Native servants in their snowy puggarees, flitted to
and fro between the camp and the cook-tent, whence a wreath of blue
smoke floated skyward. A string of camels had just come in, and were
kneeling to have their loads removed, keeping up the while their hoarse
snarling roar, each hideous antediluvian head turning craftily on its
weird neck as though watching the chance of getting in a bite. But
between them and their owners, three or four wild looking Baluchis--
long-haired and turban-crowned--the understanding, whether of love or
fear, seemed complete, for these went about their work of unloading, the
normal expression of impassive melancholy stamped upon their copper-hued
countenances undergoing no change.
"Well, how many did you shoot?" cried Hazel, running out from the tents
as the two came in. "Only six!" as Bhallu Khan held up the "bag."
"Pho! Why we heard about twenty shots. Didn't we, Lily?"
"More. I expect they were thinking of you when they named this place,"
said the latter.
"Thought something cheeky was coming," remarked Campian tranquilly.
"The `cow-catcher' adorning thy most speaking countenance, Lilian my
cherub, has an extra upward tendency this morning. No pun intended, of
course."
"Oh--oh--oh!" A very hoot was all the expression that greeted this
disclaimer. But a sudden summons to breakfast cut short further
sparring.
"Upward, what's the meaning of Chirria Bach?" asked Campian when they
were seated. Lily and Hazel clapped their hands and cackled. Upward
looked up, with a laugh.
"It means `miss a bird' old chap. Didn't you know?"
"No. I never thought of it. Very good, Lilian my seraph. Now I see
the point of that extra smart remark just now. What do you think, Mrs
Upward? she said this place must have been named after me."
"They're very rude children, both of them," was the laughing reply.
"But I can't sympathise. I'm afraid you make them worse."
A wild crow went up from the two delinquents. Campian shook his head
gravely.
"After that we had better change the subject," he said. "By the way,
Upward, old Bhallu Khan went through an extraordinary performance this
morning. I want you to tell me the interpretation thereof."
"Was he saying his prayers? Have another chikor, old chap?"
"No--not his prayers. Thanks, I will. They eat rather better than they
shoot. Nesta and I were deep in the discussion of scientific and other
matters--"
"Oh, yes."
This from Lily, meaningly.
"Lilian, dearest. If you can tell the story better than I can"--with
grave reproach.
"Never mind--go on--go on"--rapped out the delinquent.
"--In the discussion of scientific and other matters," resumed Campian,
eyeing his former interruptor, "when Bhallu Khan suddenly enjoined
silence. He then put his fingers to his head--so--and mysteriously
pointed towards the nullah. It dawned on me that he meant something
with horns; but I knew there couldn't be _gadh_ or markhor right down
here in the valley, and close to the camp. Then Nesta came to the
rescue by suggesting that he must have seen the devil."
"Ah, I didn't suggest it!" cried Nesta. But her disclaimer was drowned
in a wild yelp of ecstasy that volleyed forth from the two younger
girls; in the course of which Hazel managed to swallow her tea the wrong
way, and spent the next ten minutes choking and spluttering.
Upward was shaking in quiet mirth.
"He didn't mean the devil at all, old chap, only a hare," he explained.
"A hare?" uttered Campian.
The blankness of his amazement started the two off again.
"Only a hare! Good heavens! But a hare, even in Baluchistan, hasn't
got horns."
"He meant its ears. Come now, it was rather smart of him--wasn't it?
Old Bhallu Khan is smart all round. He _buks_ a heap, and is an old
bore at times, but he's smart enough."
"Yes. It was smart. Yet the combined intelligence of Nesta and myself
couldn't get beyond the devil."
"Speak for yourself then," she laughed. And just then Tinkles, rushing
from under the table, darted forth outside, uttering a succession of
fierce and fiery barks.
"I expect it's those two Johnnies arriving," said Upward, rising. "Yes,
it is," as he lifted the "chick" and looked outside.
They all went forth. Two horsemen were turning off the road and making
for the camp.