The Jungle Girl | Page 7

subaltern ruefully accepted the lady's
apologies and hurriedly swung himself up into the saddle again to
follow, when his companion cried:
"Look! Look, Mr. Wargrave! There's another. Come, we'll have him all
to ourselves."
And striking her pony with her gold-mounted whip she dashed off at a
gallop after a grey old boar that had craftily kept close in cover and
crept out quietly after the beaters had passed. Wargrave, filled with
excitement, struck spurs to his mount and raced after her, soon catching
up and passing her. Over the sand pitted with holes and strewn with
loose stones they raced, the boar bounding before them with rocking
motion and leading them in a long, stern chase. Again and again the
beast swerved; but at last with a fierce thrill Wargrave felt the steel
head of the spear strike home in the quarry. As he was carried on past it
he withdrew the weapon, then pulled his panting horse round. The boar
was checked; but the wound only infuriated him and aroused his
fighting ardour. He dashed at Mrs. Norton; but, as Frank turned, the
game brute recognised the more dangerous adversary, and with a fierce
grunt charged savagely at him. Wargrave plunged his spurs into his
horse, which sprang forward, just clearing the boar's snout, as the rider
leant well out and speared the pig through the heart. Then with a wild,
exultant whoop the subaltern swung round in the saddle and saw the
animal totter forward and collapse on the sand. Only a sportsman could
realise his feeling of triumph at the fall of his first boar.
Mrs. Norton was almost as excited as he, her sparkling eyes and face
flushed a becoming pink, making her even prettier in his eyes as she
rode up and congratulated him.
"Well done, Mr. Wargrave!" she cried, trotting up to where he sat on

his panting horse over the dead boar. "You did that splendidly! And the
very first time you've been out pigsticking, too!"
"It was just luck," replied the subaltern modestly, not ill-pleased at her
praise.
"What a glorious run he gave us!" she continued. "And we had it all to
ourselves, which made it better. I'm always afraid of the Maharajah's
followers, for in a run they ride so recklessly and carry their spears so
carelessly that it's a wonder they don't kill someone every time. Will
you help me down, please? I must give Martian a rest after that gallop."
With Wargrave's aid she dropped lightly to the ground; and he
remarked again with admiration the graceful lines and rounded curves
of her figure as she walked to the dead boar and touched the tusks.
"What a splendid pair! You are lucky," she exclaimed. "The biggest
anyone has got yet this season."
"I hope you'll allow me to offer them to you," said Wargrave
generously, although it cost him a pang to surrender the precious trophy.
"You deserve them, for you rode so well after the boar and I believe
you'd have got him if you'd carried a spear."
"No, indeed, Mr. Wargrave; I wouldn't dream of taking them," she
replied, laughing; "but I appreciate the nobility of your self-denial. This
is your first pig; and I know what that means to a man. Now we must
find a sowar to get the coolies to bring the boar in. But I wonder where
we are. Where is everyone?"
Wargrave looked about him and for the first time realised that they
were far out in the desert without a landmark to guide them. On every
side the sand stretched away to the horizon, its flat expanse broken only
by clumps of bristling cactus or very rarely the tall stem of a palm tree.
Of the others of the party there was no sign. His companion and he
seemed to be alone in the world; and he began to wonder
apprehensively if they were destined to undergo the unpleasant
experience of being lost in the desert. The sun high overhead afforded

no help; and Wargrave remembered neither the direction of the city nor
where lay the ravine in which the beat had taken place.
"You don't happen to know where we are, I suppose, Mrs. Norton?" he
asked his companion.
"I haven't the least idea. It looks as if we're lost," she replied calmly.
"We had better wait quietly where we are instead of wandering about
trying to find our way. When we are missed the Maharajah will
probably send somebody to look for us."
"I daresay you're right," said Wargrave. "You know more about the
desert than I do. By Jove, I'd give anything to come across the camel
that Raymond tells me brings out drinks and ice. My throat is parched.
Aren't you very thirsty?"
"Terribly so. Isn't the