The Jungle Girl | Page 5

cheeks. Even from a man like Wargrave, fresh from
England and consequently more inclined to be critical of female beauty
than were his comrades, who for many months had seen so few white
women, Mrs. Norton's good looks could justly claim full meed of
admiration and approval.
Accepting Captain Ross's aid she slipped lightly from her saddle to the
ground and on foot looked as graceful as she did when mounted.
Raymond brought his friend to her and introduced him.
Holding out a small and shapely hand in a dainty leather gauntlet she
said in a frank and pleasant manner:
"How do you do, Mr. Wargrave? You are a fortunate person to have
been in England so lately. I haven't seen it for nearly three years.
Weren't you sorry to leave it?"
"Not in the least, Mrs. Norton. I'd far sooner be doing this," he waved
his hand towards the horses and the open desert, "than fooling about
Piccadilly and the Park."

"Oh, but don't you miss the gaieties of town, the theatres, the dances?
And then the shops and the new fashions--but you're a man, and they'd
mean nothing to you."
The Maharajah broke in:
"Mrs. Norton, I think we had better mount. The beaters are going in;
and the shikaris (hunters) tell me that the nullah swarms with pig.
There are at least half a dozen rideable boar in it."
In pigsticking only well-grown boars are pursued, sows and immature
boars being unmolested.
Ross started forward to help Mrs. Norton on to her fresh pony; but
Wargrave refused to surrender the advantage of his proximity to her. So
it was into his hand she put her small foot in its well-made riding-boot
and was swung up by him.
The saddles of the rest of the party had been changed on to the horses
that the Maharajah had provided. The beaters streamed down the steep
bank into the ravine which some distance away was filled with dense
scrub affording good cover for the quarry. Forming line they moved
through it with shrill yells, the blare of horns, the beating of tom-toms
and a spluttering fire of blank cartridges from old muskets. The riders
mounted and, spear in hand, eagerly watched their progress through the
jungle. Wargrave found himself beside Mrs. Norton; but, after
exchanging a few words, he forgot her presence as, his heart beating
fast with a true sportsman's excitement, he strained his eyes for the first
sight of a wild boar.
Suddenly, several hundred yards away, he saw a squat, dark animal
emerge from the tangled scrub and, climbing up the nullah on their side,
stride away over the sand with a peculiar bounding motion that
reminded Wargrave of a rocking-horse. All eyes were turned towards
the Maharajah, who would decide whether the animal were worthy of
pursuit or not. He gazed after it for a few moments, then raised his
hand.

At the welcome signal all dashed off after the boar at a furious gallop,
opening out as they went to give play for their spears. Wild with
excitement, Wargrave struck spurs to his horse, which needed no
urging, being as filled with the lust of the chase as was the man on its
back. Like a cavalry charge the riders thundered in a mad rush behind
His Highness, whose faster mount carried him at once ahead of the rest.
He soon overtook the boar. Lowering his spear-point the Maharajah
bent forward in the saddle; but at the last moment the pig "jinked," that
is, turned sharply at right angles to his former course, and bounded
away untouched, while the baffled sportsman was carried on helplessly
by his excited horse.
Wargrave, following at some distance to the Maharajah's right rear, saw
to his mingled joy and trepidation the boar only a short way in front of
him.
"Ride, ride hard!" cried Mrs. Norton almost alongside him.
Frank drove his spurs in; and the gaunt, raw-boned countrybred under
him sprang forward. But just as it had all but reached the quarry, the
latter jinked again and Wargrave was borne on, tugging vainly at the
horse's iron jaws. But the boar had short shrift. With a rush Ross closed
on it and before it could swerve off sent his spear deep into its side and,
galloping on, turned his hand over, drawing out the lance. The pig was
staggered by the shock but started to run on. Before it could get up
speed one of the Indian nobles dashed at it with wild yells and speared
it again.
The thrust this time was mortal. The boar staggered on a few steps,
then stumbled and fell heavily to the ground. The hunters reined in
their sweating horses and gathered round it.
"Not a big animal," commented the Maharajah, scrutinising it with