In Times of Peril | Page 3

sunburnt Anglo-Saxons
as one would wish to see. "What is it?"
"We have just got the news that a family of wild boars have come down,
and are doing a lot of damage near Meanwerrie, four miles off. I
suppose they have been disturbed somewhere further away, as we have
not heard of any pig here for months; so to-morrow morning there is
going to be grand pig- sticking; of course you will come out and see the
fun?"
"We shall be delighted," said Kate; but Rose put in: "Yes; but oh! how
unfortunate! it's Mrs. Briarley's garden party."
"That has been put off till next day. It is not often we get a chance at
pig, and we have always got gardens. The two need not have interfered
with each other, as we shall start at daylight for Meanwerrie; but we
may be out some hours, and so it was thought better to put off the party
to a day when there will be nothing else to do."
"Hurrah!" shouted Dick; "I am in luck! I wanted, above all things, to

see a wild boar hunt; do you think my father will let me have a spear?"
"Hardly, Dick, considering that last time you went out you tumbled off
three times at some jumps two feet wide, and that, were you to fall in
front of a pig, he would rip you up before you had time to think about it;
besides which, you would almost certainly stick somebody with your
spear."
Dick laughed.
"That was the first time I had ever been on a horse," he said; "will you
ride, Ned?"
"No," said Ned; "I can ride fairly enough along a straight road, but it
wants a first-rate rider to go across country at a gallop, looking at the
boar instead of where you are going, and carrying a spear in one hand."
"Do you think papa will ride?" Kate asked.
"I don't know, Miss Warrener; the major is a famous spear; but here he
is to speak for himself."
Major Warrener was in uniform, having just come up from the
orderly-room. He was a tall, soldierly figure, inclining to stoutness. His
general expression was that of cheeriness and good temper; but he was
looking, as he drove up, grave and serious. His brow cleared, however,
as his eye fell upon the group in the veranda.
"Ah! Dunlop, brought the news about the boar, eh?"
"You will take us with you?" the girls asked in a breath.
"Oh, yes, you shall go; I will drive you myself. I am getting too heavy
for pig-sticking, especially with such responsibilities as you about.
There, I will get out of this uniform; it's hot for the time of year. What
are you drinking? nothing? Boy, bring some soda and brandy!"
Then, producing his cigar-case, he took a cheroot.

"Ag-low!" he shouted, and a native servant ran up with a piece of
red-hot charcoal held in a little pair of tongs.
"There, sit down and make yourselves comfortable till I come back."
The lads, finding that their society was not particularly required,
strolled off to the stables, where Ned entered into a conversation with
the syces as to the distance to Meanwerrie and the direction in which
that village lay. Like all Anglo-Indian children brought up in India, the
boys had, when they left India, spoken the language fluently. They had
almost entirely forgotten it during their stay in England, but it speedily
came back again, and Ned, at the end of three months' work, found that
he could get on very fairly. Dick had lost it altogether.
When they went back to the veranda they found that the girls had gone
indoors, and that their father was sitting and smoking with his brother
officers. When the lads came up the conversation ceased, and then the
major said:
"It is as well the boys should know what is going on."
"What is it, father?" Ned asked, struck with the grave tone in which the
major spoke, and at the serious expression in all their faces.
"Well, boys, for some months past there have been all sorts of curious
rumors running through the country. Chupatties have been sent round,
and that is always considered to portend something serious."
"Do you mean the chupatties we eat--flat cakes, father?"
"Yes, Ned. Nobody knows who sends them round, or the exact
meaning of the signal, but it seems to be an equivalent for to 'prepare,'
'make ready.' Chupatties are quickly prepared; they are the bread eaten
on a journey, and hence probably their signification. At any rate, these
things have been circulated among the native troops all over the
country. Strangers are known to have come and gone, and there is a
general uneasy and unsettled feeling prevalent