The Jungle Girl | Page 4

and raised his hand to his

forehead as the newcomers rode up and lifted their hats to him.
"Good morning, Your Highness," said Raymond. "I hope we're not late.
Let me present Mr. Wargrave of our regiment, who has just returned
from England."
With a genial smile the Maharajah leant forward and held out his hand.
"I am glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Wargrave," he said, "and
very pleased to see you out with us to-day. Are you fond of
pigsticking?"
"I've never had the chance of doing any before, Your Highness,"
replied Frank, shaking his hand. "I'm awfully anxious to try it; but,
being a novice, I'm afraid I'll only be in the way."
"I'm sure you won't," said the Maharajah courteously. His command of
English was perfect. "Pigsticking is not at all difficult; and I hear that
you are a good rider."
He looked at his watch and then, turning in the saddle, addressed
another officer of the regiment who was chaffing Raymond for being
late:
"Are we all here now, Captain Ross?"
"Yes, sir. These two lazy fellows are the last," replied Ross laughingly.
"Very well, gentlemen, we'll start."
He waved his hand; and at the signal two black-bearded sowars, or
soldiers of his cavalry regiment, dashed by him and out through the
Palace gates at a hard-gallop, leading the way past the guard, who
turned out and presented arms as the Maharajah and the British officers,
together with the crowd of nobles, officials and mounted attendants,
followed at a smart pace. The city was now waking to life. From their
windows the sleepy inhabitants stared at the party, mostly too stupefied
at that hour to recognise and salute their ruler. Pot-bellied naked brown

babies waddled on to the verandahs to gaze thumb in mouth at the
riders. Pariah dogs, nosing at the gutters and rubbish-heaps that scented
the air, bolted out of the way of the horses' hoofs.
As the sportsmen passed out of the city gates the sun was rising above
the horizon, the terrible Hot Weather sun of India, whose advent ushers
in the long hours of gasping, breathless heat. For a mile or so the route
lay through fertile gardens and fields. Then suddenly the cultivation
ended abruptly on the edge of a sandy desert that, seamed with nullahs,
or deep, steep-sided ravines, and dotted with tall clumps of thorny
cactus, stretched away to the horizon. The road became a barely
discernible track; but the two sowars cantered on, confidently heading
for the spot where the fresh horses awaited the party.
Over the sand the riders swept, past a slow-plodding elephant
lumbering back to the city with a load of fodder, by groups of tethered
camels. Hares started up in alarm and bounded away, grey partridges
whirred up and yellow-beaked minas flew off chattering indignantly.
The slight morning coolness soon vanished; and Wargrave, soft and
somewhat out of condition after his weeks of shipboard life, wiped his
streaming face often before the guiding sowars threw up their hands in
warning and vanished slowly from sight as their sure-footed horses
picked their way down a steep nullah. This was the ravine in which the
quarry hid. One after another of the riders followed the leaders down
the narrow track, trotted across the sandy, rock-strewn river-bed and
climbed up the far side to where the fresh horses and a picturesque mob
of wild-looking beaters stood awaiting them.
Among the animals Wargrave noticed a smart grey Arab pony with a
side-saddle.
"I see Mrs. Norton intends coming out with us," observed the
Maharajah looking at the pony. "We must wait for her."
"It won't be for long, sir," said Raymond, pointing to a rising trail of
dust on the track by which they had come. "I'll bet that is she."
All turned to watch the approaching rider draw near, until they could

see that it was a lady galloping furiously over the sand.
"By Jove, she can ride!" exclaimed Wargrave admiringly. "I hope she'll
see the nullah. She's heading straight for it."
A shouted warning caused her to pull up almost on the brink; and in a
few minutes she joined the waiting group. Wargrave looked with
interest at her, as she sat on her panting horse talking to the Maharajah
and the other officers, who had dismounted.
Mrs. Norton was a decidedly graceful and pretty woman. The rounded
curves of her shapely figure were set off to advantage by her
riding-costume. Her eyes were especially attractive, greenish-grey eyes
fringed by long black lashes under curved dark brows contrasting with
the warm auburn tint of the hair that showed under her sunhat. Her
complexion was dazzlingly fair. Her mouth was rather large and
voluptuous with full red lips and even white teeth. Bewitching dimples
played in the pink