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 thenullahhe 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 detachmentmochi, 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 immediatelydâkbungalow, 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 thepeelkhanacarrying their rifles. Badshah, with ahowdahroped 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 thehowdahinfinitely 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 thehowdah-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 ofhowdahand 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,staccatobark of akhakurbuck 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 deepnullahs, the tops of the trees in them barely showing above the level and marking their winding course.
Thedâkbungalow 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 theirmahouts. 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 ahowdah, the rest only their pads, was drawn up before the bungalow; and at a word from theirmahoutstheir 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 herhowdah, 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 thenullahs, 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 theirhowdah-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 thenullahin 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 thenullah, 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 themahoutsand 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 thenullah, 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 thehowdahand 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 thenullahwound 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 themahouts, and he lost hope. But suddenly from the scrub below them in thenullaha 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 thehowdah, standing right over themahoutwho 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 thehowdahwhen 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 Mahommedanmahout, 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 thehowdahor 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 themahoutshe 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, theshaitan(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?"
Themahoutshook his head.
"No, missie-baba; but it was my new coat," he insisted.[1]
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. Theirmahoutsshouted enquiries to Gul Dad and when they heard of the tiger's death cheered gleefully, for it meantbacksheeshto 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 thenullah," 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 theirmahoutsheard from Gul Dad the story of the tiger's death they exclaimed in amazement and admiration:
"Ahré, Chai! (Oh, brother!) Truly the missie-babais 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 thedâkbungalow the tiger's carcase was lowered to the ground and given over to the knives of the flayers summoned from thebazaarof 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 theirsaris(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 oldermahoutswho, 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.
The lightning spattered the heavens and tore the black sky into a thousand fragments, the thunder crashed in appalling peals of terrifying sound which echoed again and again from the invisible mountains. The rain fell in ropes of water that sent the brown, foam-flecked torrents surging full-fed down every gully and ravine in the mist-wrapped hills. The single, steep road of Ranga Duar was now the rocky bed of a racing flood inches deep that swirled and raged round Wargrave's high rubber boots as he waded up towards the Mess clad in an oilskin coat, off which the rain splashed. He was glad to arrive at the garden gate, turn in through it, climb the verandah steps, and reach his door. Here he flung aside his coat and kicked off the heavy boots.
Entering his room he pulled on his slippers, filled his pipe with tobacco from a lime-dried bottle and sat down at his one rickety table at the window. Then he took out of his pocket and laid before him a manuscript book filled with notes on the frontier dialects taken at the lesson with Colonel Dermot from which he had just come. He opened it mechanically but did not even glance at it. His thoughts were elsewhere.
Months had elapsed since the day on which he had seen his first tiger killed. Not long afterwards the Rains had come to put a stop to descents into the jungle. But his interest in the preparation for his new work compensated him for the imprisonment within walls by the terrible tropical storms and the never-ceasing downpour. He had flung himself enthusiastically into the study of the frontier languages, of which Colonel Dermot proved to be a painstaking and able teacher. Miss Benson, who had returned to Ranga Duar and remained there longer than she had originally intended, owing to fever contracted in the jungle, joined him in these studies and astonished her fellow-pupil by her aptitude and quickness of apprehension. But her presence proved disastrous to him. Thrown constantly together as they were, spending hours every day side by side, the subaltern realised to his dismay that he was falling in love with the girl.
It would have been strange had it been otherwise so pretty and attractive was she. Often Mrs. Dermot, peeping into her husband's office and seeing the dark and the fair head bent close together over a book, smiled to herself, well-pleased at the thought of her favourites being mutually attracted. To her husband the thought never occurred. Men are very dull in these matters.
But to Wargrave the realisation of the truth was unbearable. He was pledged to another woman, whose heart he had won even if unconsciously, who was willing for love of him to give up everything and face the world's censure and scorn. He could not play her false. He had given her his word. He could not now be disloyal to her without utterly wrecking all her chances of happiness in life and dishonouring himself for ever in his own eyes. Muriel Benson had left the station ten days ago to rejoin her father; and Wargrave had instantly felt that he dared not see her again until he was irrevocably and openly bound to Violet. So he had written to her on the morrow of the girl's departure and, without giving her the real reason for his action, begged her to come to him at once, enclosing, as he was now able to do, a cheque for her expenses. It seemed to him that only by her presence could he be saved from being a traitor to his word.
As soon as he had sent the letter he went to his Commanding Officer and told him everything. It was not until he was actually explaining his conduct that he realised that he should have obtained his permission before inviting Violet to come, for Major Hunt, as Commandant of the Station, had the power to forbid her residing in or even entering it.
The senior officer listened in silence. When the subaltern had finished he said:
"I've known about this matter since you came, Wargrave. Your Colonel wrote me—as your new C.O.—what I considered an unnecessary and unfair letter giving me the reason of your being sent here. But Hepburn, whom I know slightly, discovered I was here and also wrote explaining matters more fully and, I think, more justly."
The subaltern looked at him in surprise; but his face brightened at the knowledge of his former commander's kindness.
"Now, Wargrave, we've got on very well together so far, you and I. I have always been satisfied with your work, and was glad to help you by agreeing to Colonel Dermot's application for you. I believe that you will make a good political officer, otherwise I wouldn't have done so—even though I'm your debtor for saving me from that snake——."
"Oh, Major, that was nothing," broke in the subaltern. "Anyone would have done it."
"Yes, I know. But it happened that you were the anyone. Now, I'm going to talk to you as your friend and not as your commanding officer. Frankly, I am very sorry for what you have just told me. I was hoping that Time and separation were curing you—and the lady—of your folly. Believe me, only unhappiness and misery can come to you both from it."
"Perhaps so, sir; but I'm bound in honour."
The older man shook his head sadly.
"Is honour the word for it? I'll make a confession to you, Wargrave. You consider me a bachelor. Well, I'm not married now; but I was. When I was a young subaltern I was thrown much with a married woman older than myself. I was flattered that she should take any notice of me, for she was handsome and popular with men, while I was a shy, awkward boy. She said she was 'being a mother' to me—you know what a married woman 'mothering' boys leads to in India. She used to tell me how misunderstood she was, neglected, mated to a clown and all that." (Frank grew red at certain memories.) "Women have a regular formula when they're looking for sympathy they've no right to. I pitied her. I felt that her husband ought to be shot. Looking back now I see that he was just the ordinary, easy-going, indifferent individual that most husbands become; but then I deemed him a tyrant and a brute. Well, I ran away with her."
He paused and passed his hand wearily across his brow.
"There was the usual scandal, divorce, damages and costs that plunged me into debt I'm not out of yet. We married. In a year we were heartily sick of each other—hated, is nearer the truth. She consoled herself with other men. I protested, we quarrelled again and again. At last we agreed to separate; and I insisted on her going to England and staying there. I couldn't trust her in India. Living in lodgings and Bayswater boarding-houses wasn't amusing—she got bored, but I wouldn't have her back. She took to drinking and ran up debts that I had to pay. Then—and I selfishly felt glad, but it was a happy release for both—she died. Drank herself to death. Now you know why I'd be sorry that another man should follow the path I trod."
He was silent. Wargrave felt an intense sympathy for this quiet, kindly man whose life had been a tragedy. He had guessed from the first that his senior officer had some ever-present grief weighing on his soul. He would have given much to be able to utter words of consolation, but he did not know what to say.
Major Hunt spoke again.
"You must dree your own weird, Wargrave. If the lady wishes to come here—well, I shall not prevent her; but the General, when he knows of it, will not permit her to remain. But you have to deal with Colonel Dermot. You had better tell him. You might go now."
Without a word the subaltern left the bungalow. He went straight to the Political Officer and repeated his story. Colonel Dermot did not interrupt him, but, when he had finished, said:
"I have no right and no wish to interfere with your private life, Wargrave, nor to offer you advice as to how to lead it. Your work is all that I can claim to criticise. Of course I see, with Major Hunt, the difficulty that will arise over the lady's remaining in this small station, where her presence must become known to the Staff. If you are both resolved on taking the irretrievable step it would be wiser to defer it until you were elsewhere. I don't offer to blame either of you; for I don't know enough to judge."
"Well, sir, I—perhaps you won't want me under you—and Mrs. Dermot—you mightn't wish me to——," stammered the subaltern, standing miserably before him.
"Oh, yes; you'll make a good political officer none the less," said the Colonel smiling. "And you need not be afraid of my wife turning away from you with horror. If she can be a friend to the lady she will. As for you, well, you saved our children, Wargrave"—he laid his hand on the young man's shoulder—"you are our friend for life. I shall not repeat your story to my wife. Perhaps some day you may like to tell it to her yourself."
Wargrave tried to thank him gratefully, but failed, and, picking up his hat, went out into the rain.
That was days ago; and no answer had come from Violet, so that the subaltern lived in a state of strain and anxious expectation. Indeed, some weeks had passed since her last letter, as usual an unhappy one; and, sitting staring out into the grey world of falling rain turned to flame every minute by the vivid lightning, he racked his brains to guess the reason of her silence.
A jangle of bells sounded through the storm. Glancing out Wargrave saw a curiously grotesque figure climb the verandah steps from the garden and stand shaking itself while the water poured from it. It was an almost naked man, squat and sturdy-limbed, with glistening wet brown skin, an oilskin-covered package on his back, a short spear hung with bells in his hand. It was the postman. For a miserable pittance he jogged up and down the mountains in fine weather or foul, carrying His Majesty's Mails, passing fearlessly through the jungle in peril of wild beats, his ridiculous weapon, the bells of which were supposed to frighten tigers, his only protection.
Wargrave opened the door and went out to him. The man grinned, unslung and opened his parcel. From it he took out a bundle of letters, handed them to the subaltern, and went on to knock at Burke's door with his correspondence. Frank returned to his room with the mail which contained the official letters for the detachment, of which he was still acting as adjutant. He threw them aside when he saw an envelope with Violet's handwriting on it. He tore it open eagerly.
To his surprise the letter was addressed from a hotel in Poona, the large and gay military and civil station in the West of India, a few hours' rail journey inland from Bombay. He skimmed through it rapidly.
She wrote that, utterly weary of the dullness of Rohar, she had gone to Poona to spend part of the festive and fashionable season there and was now revelling in the many dances, dinners, theatricals and other gaieties of the lively station. Everybody was very kind to her, especially the men. She was invited to the private entertainments at Government House, and His Excellency the Governor always danced with her. Her programme was crowded at every ball; and she had been asked to take one of the leading parts in "The Country Girl" to be produced by the Amateur Dramatic Society. She had two excellent ponies with which to hunt and to join ingymkhanas. She wished Frank could be with her; but probably he was enjoying himself more with his wild beasts and Tiger Girls. As to his proposal that she should go to him at once in that little station he must have been mad when he made it. For had they not discussed the matter thoroughly and decided that they must wait? She presumed that he had not suddenly come into a fortune. From his description of Ranga Duar and its inhabitants it could be no place for her under the circumstances. No; there was nothing to do but to wait. Besides, it was so very jolly now at Poona. Frank must not be an impatient boy; and she sent him all her love. His cheque she had torn up.
The subaltern whistled, read the letter again very carefully, folded and put it away. What had come to Violet? This was so unlike her. Still, he had to confess to himself that he was relieved at not yet having to cross the Rubicon. Perhaps she was right; it might be better to wait. He was glad to know that for a time at least she was away from the uncongenial surroundings of Rohar and again enjoying life. He went through the official correspondence, shoved it in his pocket, put on coat and boots and splashed through the water down the road to the Commanding Officer's bungalow. When they had discussed the official letters and drafted answers to them Wargrave told Major Hunt of the gist of Violet's reply. The senior officer nodded, but said nothing about it and went on to talk of other matters.
Next day the subaltern informed Colonel Dermot, who made no comment and did not refer to the matter again. His wife, ignorant of Mrs. Norton's existence, delighted to talk to Wargrave about Muriel, a topic always interesting to him, dangerous though it was to his peace of mind. His thoughts were constantly with the girl, and he sought eagerly for news of her when occasional letters came to Mrs. Dermot from her, touring their wide forest district with her father.
Frank had never been able to fathom Burke's feelings towards her. The Irishman's manner to her in public was always light-hearted and cheerfully friendly; but the subaltern suspected that it concealed a deeper, warmer feeling. He betrayed no jealousy of Frank's constant companionship with her when she took part in his studies; and his friendly regard for his younger brother officer never altered. On her side the girl showed openly that she shared the universal liking that the kindly, pleasant-natured doctor inspired.
The weary months of the rainy season dragged by; but the subaltern spent them to advantage under Colonel Dermot's tuition and, possessing the knack of readily acquiring foreign languages, made rapid progress with Bhutanese, Tibetan and the frontier dialects, his good ear for music helping him greatly in getting the correct accent. Another accomplishment of his, a talent for acting, was of service; for the Political Officer wished him to be capable of penetrating into Bhutan in disguise if need be. So he taught him how to be a merchant, peasant, nobleman's retainer or a lama Red or Yellow, of the country—but always a man of Northern Bhutan and the Tibetan borderland, for his height and blue eyes were not unusual there, though seldom or never seen in the south. Frank was carefully instructed in the appropriate manners, customs and expressions of each part that he played, how to eat and behave in company, how to walk, sit and sleep. But he specialised as a lama, for in that character he would meet with the least interference in the priest-ridden country. He was taught the Buddhist chants and how to drone them, how to carry his praying-wheel and finger a rosary to the murmured "Om mani padmi hung" of the Tibetans, and—for he was something of an artist—how to paint the Buddhist pictorial Wheel of Life, theSid-pa-i Khor-lôor Cycle of Existence that the gentle Gautama, the Buddha, himself first drew and that hangs in the vestibule of every lamasery to teach priest and layman the leading law of their religion, Re-birth.
Colonel Dermot was helped in his instruction of his pupil by his chief spy and confidential messenger, an ex-monk from a great monastery in Punaka, the capital of Bhutan. This man, Tashi, before he wearied of the cloistered life and fled to India, had been always one of the principal actors in the great miracle plays and Devil Dances of his lamasery, for he was gifted with considerable histrionic talent. He delighted in teaching Wargrave to play his variousrôles, for he found the subaltern an apt pupil.
As soon as the rains ended the Political Officer began to take his disciple with him on his tours and patrols along the frontier. Alone they roamed on Badshah among the mountains on which the border ran in a confusedly irregular line. Sometimes with or without Tashi they crossed into Bhutan in disguise and wandered among the steep, forest-clad hills and deep, unhealthy valleys seamed with rivers prone to sudden floods that rose in a few hours thirty or forty feet. Wargrave marvelled at the engineering skill of the inhabitants who with rude and imperfect appliances had thrown cantilever bridges over the deep gorges of this mountainous southern zone. Among the dull-witted peasants in the villages he practised the parts that he had learned, speaking little at first and taking care to mingle Tibetan and Chinese words with the language of Bhutan to keep up the fable of his northern birth. He soon promised to be in time as skilfull in disguise as his tutor.
Colonel Dermot was anxious to investigate the activities of the ChineseAmban, reputed to reach their height in the territory just across the Indian border ruled by the Tuna Penlop and lying west of the Black Mountain range that divides Bhutan. This great feudal chieftain was reputed to be completely under the influence of Yuan Shi Hung and both anti-British and disloyal to his overlord the Maharajah or Tongsa Penlop. The close watch that his myrmidons kept on the stretch of frontier between his territories and India prevented Dermot from learning what went on behind the screen; for the spies of the Political Officer's Secret Service could not penetrate it and bring back news.
Wargrave was present when the last sturdy-limbed Bhuttia emissary reported his failure to cross the line. As the man withdrew the Colonel turned to Frank and said:
"We'll go ourselves. I wanted to avoid it if possible; for it wouldn't do for me to be caught. Not only because it would cause political complications, for I'm not supposed to trespass on Bhutanese territory uninvited, but also because fatal accidents might happen to us if Yuan Shi Hung and his friends get hold of us. I'm not anxious to die yet. Be ready to start at midnight."
"Do you really think we'll be able to get through, sir?" queried the subaltern. "How shall we do it?"
"Wait and see," was the curt reply.
Before the sun rose next day Badshah was deep in the forest, bearing the two officers and Tashi on his back. He moved rapidly along animal paths through the jungle in a direction parallel with the mountains. Jungle fowl whirred up from under his feet, deer crashed away through the undergrowth as he passed; but never a shot was fired at them, though rifles and guns were in the riders' hands. Little brown monkeys peeped down at them from the tree-tops or leapt away along the air lanes among the leafy branches, swinging by hand or foot, springing across the voids, the babies clutching fast to their mothers' bodies in the dizzy flights.
In the afternoon a distant crashing, which told of trees falling before the pressure of great heads and the weight of huge bodies, made Wargrave ask:
"Wild elephants, sir?"
Dermot nodded.
"Sounds as if they were right in our path. Shall we see them?"
"Yes. Don't touch that!" said the Colonel sharply; for the excited subaltern, who had never yet seen a wild herd, was reaching for his rifle. Wargrave obeyed, remembering Miss Benson's remark on the Political Officer's love of the great animals.
Soon unmistakable signs showed that they were on the track of a herd; and presently Frank caught sight of a slate-coloured body in the undergrowth, then another and another. As he was wondering how the animals would receive them Badshah emerged on an open glade filled with elephants of all ages and sizes, from new-born woolly calves a bare three feet at the shoulder to splendid tuskers nine feet ten inches in height and lean, ragged-eared old animals a hundred and thirty years of age. All were regarding the newcomer and their trunks were raised to point towards him, while from their throats came a low purring sound, which appeared to the subaltern to have more of pleasure than menace in it. Instead of seeming hostile or alarmed they behaved as though they had expected and were welcoming their domesticated brother. This was so evident that Frank felt no fear even when they closed in on Badshah and touched him with their trunks.
Dermot, smiling at his companion's amazement, said:
"This is Badshah's old herd, Wargrave, and they're used to him and me. I've come in search of them, for it is by their aid that I propose to enter Bhutan."
And the subaltern was still more surprised when the animals, which numbered over a hundred, fell in behind Badshah—cows with calves leading, tuskers in rear—and followed him submissively in single file as he headed for the mountains. When night fell they were climbing above the foot-hills under the vivid tropic stars.
A couple of hours before midnight the leader halted, and the line behind him scattered to feed on the bamboos and the luscious grasses, though the younger calves nuzzled their mothers' breasts. Badshah sank to his knees to allow his passengers to dismount and relieve him of his pad. The three men ate and then wrapped themselves in their blankets, for it was very cold high up in the mountains, and stretched themselves to sleep, as the great animals around them ceased to feed and rested. Badshah lowered himself cautiously to the ground and lay down near his men.
Before Wargrave lost consciousness he marvelled at Dermot's uncanny power over the huge beasts around them—a power that could make these shy mammoths thus subservient to his purposes. He began to understand why his companion was regarded as a demigod by the wild jungle-folk and hill-dwellers.
When at daybreak the herd moved on again, climbing ever higher in the mountains, the three men lay flat on Badshah's back and covered themselves with their grey blankets lest vigilant watchers on the peaks around might espy them. Thus do themahoutsof thekoonkies, or trained female elephants employed in hunting and snaring wild tuskers, conceal themselves during the chase.
But darkness shielded them effectively when the herd swept at length through a rocky pass on the frontier-line between India and Bhutan, and with cries of fear and dismay armed men seated around watch-fires fled in panic before the earth-shaking host. The screen was penetrated.
Daylight found them on the banks of a broad, swift-flowing river in a valley between the range of mountains through which they had passed and a line of still more formidable and snow-clad peaks. The elephants swam the wide and rushing water, for of all land animals their kind are the best swimmers. The tiniest babies were supported by the trunks of their mothers, on to whose backs older calves climbed and were thus carried across. Without stopping the herd plunged into the awful passes of the next range, of which they were not clear until the evening of the following day. Then they halted in dense forest.
Next morning Dermot took from the pockets of Badshah's pad the dresses and other things that they needed for their disguises, and instead of replacing the pad concealed it carefully. Then he said:
"We'll leave our escort here, Wargrave, and carry on by ourselves; for we are not far from inhabited and cultivated country, and indeed fairly near theJong(castle) of our enemy the Penlop of Tuna."
The wild elephants were feeding all around, paying no heed to them. The Colonel turned to Badshah and pointing to the ground said one word:
"Raho! (Remain!)"
Then he continued to Wargrave:
"We'll find them, or they'll find us, whenever we return."
An hour later two elderly lamas in soiled yellow robes and horn-rimmed spectacles, followed by a lame coolie carrying their scanty possessions, emerged, rosary and praying-wheel in hand, from the forest into the cultivated country.
For some weeks they wandered unsuspected through the Tuna Penlop's dominions and even penetrated into his ownjong, where they were entertained and their prayers solicited by his cut-throat retainers. They learned enough to realise that theAmbanwas endeavouring by the free supply of arms and military instructors to form here the nucleus of a trained force to be employed eventually against India, backed up by reinforcements of Chinese troops and contingents from other parts of Bhutan.
Their investigations completed they returned safely to the forest in which they had left the herd; and, much to Wargrave's relief, they had not been many hours camped on the spot where they had parted with them when Badshah and his wild companions appeared. The spies returned to India as they had come, unseen and unsuspected.
This excursion was but the first of many that Wargrave made with the Colonel and the herd; and he soon began to know almost every member of it and make friends, not only with the solemn but friendly little calves, but even with their less trusting mothers. He was now thoroughly at home in the jungle and no longer needed a tutor in sport. His one room in the Mess began to be overcrowded with trophies of his skill with the rifle. Other tiger-skins had joined the first; and, although he had not secured a second bison, several good heads ofsambhur,khakurandcheetul, or spotted deer, hung on his whitewashed stone walls.
Thus with sport and work more fascinating than sport Wargrave found the months slipping by. From Raymond he learned that Violet had returned to Rohar before she wrote herself. When she did she seemed to be in a brighter and more affectionate, as well as calmer, mood than she had been before her visit to Poona. But gradually her letters became less and less frequent; and Frank began to wonder—with a little sense of guilty, shamed hope—if she were beginning to forget him.
Christmas came; and with its coming Ranga Duar woke again to life. Besides the Bensons and Carter, who now brought his wife, Mrs. Dermot's brother—a subaltern in an Indian cavalry regiment—and five planters, old friends of his from the district in which he had once been a planter himself, came to spend Christmas in the small station. Major Hunt's bungalow and the Mess took in the overflow from the Political Officer's house.
Brian and Eileen had the gayest, happiest time of their little lives. Presents were heaped on them. Muriel and Frank initiated them into all the delights of their first Christmas tree, and Burke introduced them to a real Punch and Judy Show. On Christmas Day Badshah, his neck encircled with a garland of flowers procured from the Plains, was led up solemnly by his seldom-seenmahoutto present Colonel Dermot with a gilded lime and receive in return a present of silver rupees which passed into the possession of the saidmahout. Then he was fed with dainties by the children; and Eileen insisted on being tossed aloft by the curving trunk, to the detriment of her starched party frock.
The weather was appropriate to the season, cold and bright, and although no snow fell so low down, it froze at night, so that the Europeans could indulge in the luxury—in India—of gathering around blazing wood fires after dinner.
All, young and old, thoroughly enjoyed this almost English-like Christmas—all except one. Burke's attentions to Muriel became more marked and more full of meaning than they had ever been before; and it was patent that he intended to put his fate to the touch during this visit of hers. He did so without success, it seemed; for before she left there was an evident sense of constraint between them and they tried to avoid sitting beside each other or being left alone together, even for a moment. Shortly after the departure of the visitors Burke contrived to effect an exchange to another station, to the regret of all in the little outpost, and he was replaced by a young Scots surgeon, named Macdonald, his opposite in every way.