The Jungle Girl | Page 6

the
eye of an expert. "About thirty-four inches high, I think. But the tusks
are good. They're yours, Captain Ross, aren't they?"
"Yes, Your Highness, I think so," replied Ross.

Pigsticking law awards the trophy to the rider whose spear first inflicts
a wound on the boar.
"Better luck next time, Mr. Wargrave," said Mrs. Norton, riding up to
him. "I thought you were sure of him when he jinked away from the
Maharajah."
"To be quite candid I was rather relieved that I didn't get the chance,
Mrs. Norton," replied the subaltern. "As I've never been out after pig
before I didn't quite know what to do. However, I've seen now that it
isn't very difficult; so I hope I'll get an opportunity later."
"You are sure to, Mr. Wargrave," remarked the Maharajah. "There are
several boars left in cover; and the men are going in again."
The tatterdemalion mob of beaters was descending into the _nullah_;
and soon the wild din broke out once more. A gaunt grey boar with
long and gleaming tusks was seen to emerge from the scrub and climb
the far bank of the ravine, where he stood safely out of reach but in full
view of the tantalised hunters. But a string of laden camels passing over
the desert scared him back again; and while the riders watched in eager
excitement, he slowly descended into the nullah, crossed it and came
up on the near side some hundreds of yards away.
The Maharajah raised his spear.
"Ride!" he cried.
"Go like the devil, Frank!" shouted Raymond, as the scurrying
horsemen swept in a body over the sand and he found himself for a
moment beside his friend. "He's a beauty. Forty inches, I'll swear.
Splendid tusks."
Wargrave crouched like a jockey in the saddle as the riders raced madly
after the boar. The Indians among them, wildly excited, brandished
their lances and uttered fierce cries as they galloped along. Their
Maharajah's speedier mount again took the lead; but even in India sport
is democratic and his nobles, attendants and soldiers all tried to

overtake and pass him. The white men, as is their wont, rode in silence
but none the less keenly excited. Over sand and stones, past tall, prickly
cactus-plants, in hot pursuit all flew at racing speed.
It was a long chase; for the old grey boar was speedy, cunning, and a
master of wiles. First one pursuer, then another, then a third and a
fourth, found himself almost upon the quarry and bent down with
outstretched, eager spear only to be baffled by a swift jink and carried
on helplessly, pulling vainly at the reins.
At length a sudden turn threw out all the field except the Maharajah,
who had foreseen it and ridden off to intercept the now tiring boar.
Overtaking it he bent forward and wounded it slightly. The brute
instantly swung in upon his horse, and with a fierce grunt dashed under
it and leapt up at it with a toss of the head that gave an upward thrust to
the long, curved tusk. In an instant the horse was ripped open and
brought crashing to the ground, pinning its rider's leg to the earth
beneath it. The boar turned again, marked the prostrate man, and with a
savage gleam in its little eyes charged the Maharajah, its gleaming
ivory tusks, six inches long, as sharp and deadly as an Afridi's knife.
CHAPTER II
YOUTH CALLS TO YOUTH
But at that moment a shout made the boar hesitate, and Raymond
dashed in on it at racing speed, driving his spear so deeply into its side
that, as he swept on, the tough bamboo broke like match-wood. The
stricken beast tottered forward a yard or two, then turned and stood
undauntedly at bay, as a sowar rode at it. But before his steel could
touch its hide it shuddered and sank to the ground dead.
The dying horse was lifted off the Maharajah who, with the courage of
his race, had remained calm in the face of the onrushing death. He was
assisted to rise, but was so severely shaken and bruised that at first he
was unable to stand without support. Leaning on the arm of one of his
nobles he held out his hand to Raymond, when the latter rode up, and
thanked him gratefully for his timely aid. Then the exhausted but

gallant prince sat down on the sand to recover himself. But he assured
everyone that he was not hurt and, insisting that the sport should go on,
gave orders for the beat to continue.
Wargrave had chanced to dismount to tighten the girth of Mrs. Norton's
horse, when a fresh boar broke from cover and was instantly pursued
by all the others of the hunt. The