The Jungle Girl | Page 3

go."
"What a good fellow he must be!" exclaimed Wargrave. "I am glad we
get pigsticking here. I've always longed for it, but never have been
anywhere before where there was any, as you know."
"It's lucky for us that the sport here is good; for without it life in Rohar
would be too awful to contemplate. It's the last place the Lord made."
"It's the hardest place to reach I've ever known," said Wargrave. "It was
a shock to learn that, after forty-eight hours in the train, I had two more
days to travel after leaving the railway."
"How did you like that forty miles in a camel train over the salt desert?
That made you sit up a bit, eh?"

"It was awful. The heat and the glare off the sand nearly killed me. You
say there is no society here?"
"Society? The only Europeans here or in the whole State, besides those
of us in the regiment, are the Resident and his wife."
"What is a Resident, exactly?"
"A Political Officer appointed by the Government of India to be a sort
of adviser to a rajah and to keep a check on him if he rules his State
badly. I shouldn't imagine that our fellow here, Major Norton, would be
much good as an adviser to anybody. The only thing he seems to know
anything about is insects. He's quite a famous entomologist. Personally
he's not a bad sort, but a bit of a bore."
"What's his wife like?"
"Oh, very different. Much younger and fond of gaiety, I think. Not that
she can get any here. She's a decidedly pretty woman. I haven't seen
much of her; for she has been away most of the time, that the regiment
has been here. She has relatives in Calcutta and stays a lot with them."
"I don't blame her," said Wargrave, laughing. "Rohar must be a very
deadly place for a young woman. No amusements. No dances. No
shops. And the only female society the wives of the Colonel and the
Doctor."
"Luckily for Mrs. Norton she is rather keen on sport and is a good rider.
You'll probably meet her to-day; for she generally comes out
pigsticking with us, though she doesn't carry a spear. I've promised to
take her shooting with us the next time we go. Hullo! here are the
ponies at last. Are you ready, Frank?"
The two officers rose, as their syces, or native grooms, came up before
the bungalow leading two ponies, a Waler and an Arab. Raymond
walked over to the bundle of spears and selected one with a leaf-shaped
steel head.

"Try this, Frank," he said. "See if it suits you. You don't want too long
a spear."
His companion balanced it in his hand.
"Yes, it seems all right. I say, old chap, how does one go for the pig?
Do you thrust at him?"
"No; just ride hard at him with the spear pointed and held with stiffened
arm. Your impetus will drive the steel well home into him."
Mounting their ponies they started, the syces carrying the spears and
following them at a steady run as they trotted down the sandy road
leading to the city, where at the Palace they were to meet the
Maharajah and the other sportsmen. The sky was paling fast at the
coming of the dawn; and they could discern the dozen bungalows and
the Regimental Lines, or barracks, comprising the little cantonment,
above which towered the dark mass of a rocky hill crowned by the
ruined walls of an old native fort. On either side of their route the
country was flat and at first barren. But, as they neared the capital, they
passed through cultivation and rode by green fields irrigated from deep
wells, by hamlets of palm-thatched mud huts where no one yet stirred,
and on to where the high embrasured walls of the city rose above the
plain. Under the vaulted arch of the old gateway the ponies clattered,
along through the narrow, silent streets of gaily-painted,
wooden-balconied houses, at that hour closely shuttered, until the
Palace was reached as the rising sun began to flush the sky with
rose-pink.
The guard of sepoys at the great gate saluted as the two officers rode
into the wide, paved courtyard lined by high, many-windowed
buildings. In the centre of it a group of horsemen, nobles of the State or
officials of the Palace in gay dresses and bright-coloured puggris, or
turbans, with gold or silver-hilted swords hanging from their belts, sat
on their restless animals behind the Maharajah, a pleasant-faced,
athletic man in a white flannel coat, riding-breeches and long, soft
leather boots, mounted on a tall Waler gelding. He was chatting with
four or five other officers of the Punjaubis