Plain Tales from the Hills | Page 9

beyond redemption. His
Colonel talked to him severely when the cold weather ended. That
made him more wretched than ever; and it was only an ordinary
"Colonel's wigging!"
What follows is a curious instance of the fashion in which we are all
linked together and made responsible for one another. THE thing that
kicked the beam in The Boy's mind was a remark that a woman made
when he was talking to her. There is no use in repeating it, for it was
only a cruel little sentence, rapped out before thinking, that made him
flush to the roots of his hair. He kept himself to himself for three days,
and then put in for two days' leave to go shooting near a Canal
Engineer's Rest House about thirty miles out. He got his leave, and that
night at Mess was noisier and more offensive than ever. He said that he
was "going to shoot big game, and left at half-past ten o'clock in an
ekka. Partridge--which was the only thing a man could get near the
Rest House--is not big game; so every one laughed.
Next morning one of the Majors came in from short leave, and heard
that The Boy had gone out to shoot "big game." The Major had taken
an interest in The Boy, and had, more than once, tried to check him in
the cold weather. The Major put up his eyebrows when he heard of the
expedition and went to The Boy's room, where he rummaged.
Presently he came out and found me leaving cards on the Mess. There
was no one else in the ante-room.
He said: "The Boy has gone out shooting. DOES a man shoot tetur with
a revolver and a writing-case?"
I said: "Nonsense, Major!" for I saw what was in his mind.
He said: "Nonsense or nonsense, I'm going to the Canal now--at once. I
don't feel easy."
Then he thought for a minute, and said: "Can you lie?"
"You know best," I answered. "It's my profession."
"Very well," said the Major; "you must come out with me now--at
once--in an ekka to the Canal to shoot black-buck. Go and put on

shikar-kit--quick--and drive here with a gun."
The Major was a masterful man; and I knew that he would not give
orders for nothing. So I obeyed, and on return found the Major packed
up in an ekka--gun-cases and food slung below--all ready for a
shooting-trip.
He dismissed the driver and drove himself. We jogged along quietly
while in the station; but as soon as we got to the dusty road across the
plains, he made that pony fly. A country-bred can do nearly anything at
a pinch. We covered the thirty miles in under three hours, but the poor
brute was nearly dead.
Once I said: "What's the blazing hurry, Major?"
He said, quietly: "The Boy has been alone, by himself, for--one, two,
five--fourteen hours now! I tell you, I don't feel easy."
This uneasiness spread itself to me, and I helped to beat the pony.
When we came to the Canal Engineer's Rest House the Major called for
The Boy's servant; but there was no answer. Then we went up to the
house, calling for The Boy by name; but there was no answer.
"Oh, he's out shooting," said I.
Just then I saw through one of the windows a little hurricane-lamp
burning. This was at four in the afternoon. We both stopped dead in the
verandah, holding our breath to catch every sound; and we heard, inside
the room, the "brr--brr--brr" of a multitude of flies. The Major said
nothing, but he took off his helmet and we entered very softly.
The Boy was dead on the charpoy in the centre of the bare, lime-
washed room. He had shot his head nearly to pieces with his revolver.
The gun-cases were still strapped, so was the bedding, and on the table
lay The Boy's writing-case with photographs. He had gone away to die
like a poisoned rat!
The Major said to himself softly: "Poor Boy! Poor, POOR devil!" Then
he turned away from the bed and said: "I want your help in this
business."
Knowing The Boy was dead by his own hand, I saw exactly what that
help would be, so I passed over to the table, took a chair, lit a cheroot,
and began to go through the writing-case; the Major looking over my
shoulder and repeating to himself: "We came too late!--Like a rat in a
hole!--Poor, POOR devil!"
The Boy must have spent half the night in writing to his people, and to

his Colonel, and to a girl at Home; and as soon as he had finished, must
have shot himself, for he had been dead a long time when we came