The Jungle Girl

  THE JUNGLE GIRL

  by

  GORDON CASSERLY

  Author of _The Elephant God_, etc.

  New York

  1922

  CONTENTS

  I. THE GREY BOARII. YOUTH CALLS TO YOUTHIII. THE LOVE-SONG OF HAR DYALIV. A CROCODILE INTERVENESV. SENTENCE OF EXILEVI. A BORDER OUTPOSTVII. IN THE TERAI JUNGLEVIII. A GIRL OF THE FORESTIX. TIGER LANDX. A POLITICAL OFFICER IN THE MAKINGXI. TRAGEDYXII. "ROOTED IN DISHONOUR"XIII. THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVEXIV. THE DEVIL DANCERS OF TUNAXV. A STRANGE RESCUE

  CHAPTER I

  THE GREY BOAR

  Youth's daring courage, manhood's fire, Firm seat and eagle eye, Must he acquire who doth aspire To see the grey boar die.

  --_Indian Pigsticking Song_.

  Mrs. Norton looked contentedly at her image in the long mirror whichreflected a graceful figure in a well-cut grey habit and smart longbrown boots, a pretty face and wavy auburn hair under the sun-helmet.Then turning away and picking up her whip she left the dressing-roomand, passing the door of her husband's bedroom where he lay stillsleeping, descended the broad marble staircase of the Residency to thelofty hall, where an Indian servant in a long red coat hurried to openthe door of the dining-room for her.

  Almost at that moment a mile away Raymond, the adjutant of the 180thPunjaub Infantry, looked at his watch and called out loudly:

  "Hurry up, Wargrave; it's four o'clock and the ponies will be round inten minutes. And it's a long ride to the Palace."

  He was seated at a table on the verandah of the bungalow which heshared with his brother subaltern in the small military cantonment nearRohar, the capital of the Native State of Mandha in the west of India.Dawn had not yet come; and by the light of an oil lamp Raymond waseating a frugal breakfast of tea, toast and fruit, the _chota hazri_ orlight meal with which Europeans in the East begin the day. He wasdressed in an old shooting-jacket, breeches and boots; and as he ate hiseyes turned frequently to a bundle of steel-headed bamboo spears leaningagainst the wall near him. For he and his companion were going as theguests of the Maharajah of Mandha for a day's pigsticking, as huntingthe wild boar is termed in India.

  He had finished his meal and lit a cheroot before Wargrave came yawningon to the verandah.

  "Sorry for being so lazy, old chap," said the newcomer. "But a year'sleave in England gets one out of the habit of early rising."

  He pulled up a chair to the table on which his white-clad Mussulmanservant, who had come up the front steps of the verandah, laid a traywith his tea and toast. And while he ate Raymond lay back smoking in along chair and looked almost affectionately at him. They had beenfriends since their Sandhurst days, and during the past twelve months ofhis comrade's absence on furlough in Europe the adjutant had sorelymissed his cheery companionship. Nor was he the only one in theirregiment who had.

  Frank Wargrave was almost universally liked by both men and women, and,while unspoilt by popularity, thoroughly deserved it. He was abouttwenty-six years of age, above medium height, with a lithe and gracefulfigure which the riding costume that he was wearing well set off.Fair-haired and blue-eyed, with good though irregular features, he waspleasant-faced and attractive rather than handsome. The cheerful,good-tempered manner that he displayed even at that trying early hourwas a true indication of a happy and light-hearted disposition that madehim as liked by his brother officers as by other men who did not knowhim so well. In his regiment all the native ranks adored the youngsahib, who was always kind and considerate, though just, to them, andlooked more closely after their interests than he did his own. For, likemost young officers in the Indian Army, he was seldom out of debt; butsoldierly hospitality and a hand ever ready to help a friend in wantwere the causes rather than deliberate extravagance on his own account.Taking life easily and never worrying over his own troubles he wasalways generous and sympathetic to others, and prompter to take upcudgels on their behalf than on his own. His being a good sportsman anda smart soldier added to his popularity among men; while all women werepartial to the pleasant, courteous subaltern whom they felt to have achivalrous regard and respect for them and who was as polite andattentive to an old lady as he was to the prettiest girl.

  While admiring and liking the other sex Wargrave had hitherto been tooabsorbed in sport and his profession to have ever found time to lose hisheart to any particular member of it, while his innate respect for, andhigh ideal of, womankind had preserved him from unworthy intrigues withthose ready to meet him more than half-way. Even in the idleness of theyear's furlough in England from which he had returned the previous dayhe had remained heart-whole; although several charming girls had beenready to share his lot and more than one pretty pirate had sought tomake him her prize. But he had been blind to them all; for he was toofree from conceit to believe that any woman would concern herself withhim unasked. He had dined and danced with maid and young matron inLondon, ridden with them in the Row and Richmond Park, punted them downbackwaters by Goring, Pangbourne and the Cleveden Woods, and flirtedharmlessly with them in country houses after days with the Quorn and thePytchley, and yet come back to India true to his one love, his regiment.

  As Raymond watched him the fear of the feminine dangers in England forhis friend suddenly pricked; and he blurted out anxiously:

  "I say, old chap, you haven't got tangled up with any woman at home,have you? Not got engaged or any silly thing like that, I hope?"

  Wargrave laughed.

  "No fear, old boy," he replied, pouring out another cup of tea. "Far toohard up to think of such an expensive luxury as a wife. Been too busy,too, to see much of any particular girl."

  "You had some decent sport, hadn't you?" asked his friend, with afeeling of relief in his heart.

  "Rather. I told you I'd learnt to fly and got my pilot's certificate,for one thing. Good fun, flying. I wish I could afford a 'bus of my own.Then I had some yachting on the Solent and a lot of boating on theThames. I put in a month in Switzerland, skiing and skating."

  "Did you get any hunting?"

  "Yes, at my uncle's place near Desford in Leicestershire. He gave mesome shooting, too. It was all very well; but I was very envious whenthe regiment came here and you wrote and told me of the pigsticking youwere getting. I've always longed for it. It's great sport, isn't it?"

  "The best I know," cried Raymond enthusiastically. "Beats huntinghollow. You're not following a wretched little animal that runs for itslife, but a game brute that will turn on you as like as not and makeyou fight for yours."

  "It must be ripping. I do hope we'll have the luck to find plenty of pigto-day."

  "Oh, we're sure to. The Maharajah told me yesterday they have markeddown a _sounder_--that is, a herd--of wild pig in a _nullah_ about sevenmiles the other side of the city, which is two miles away, so we have aride of nine to the meet."

  "That will make it a very hard day for our ponies, won't it?" askedWargrave anxiously. "Eighteen miles there and back and the runs aswell."

  "Oh, that's all right. The Maharajah mounts us at the meet. We'll findhis horses waiting there for us. Rawboned beasts with mouths like iron,as a rule; but good goers and staunch to pig."

  "By Jove! The Maharajah must be a real good chap."

  "One of the best," replied Raymond. "He is a man for whom I've thegreatest admiration. He rules his State admirably. He commanded his ownImperial Service regiment in the war and did splendidly. He is very goodto us here."

  "So it seems. From what I gathered at Mess last night he appears toprovide all our sport for us."

  "Yes; he arranges his shoots and the pigsticking meets for days on whichthe officers of the regiment are free to go out with him. When we cantravel by road he sends his carriages for us, lends us horses and hascamels to f
ollow us with lunch, ice and drinks wherever we go."

  "What a good fellow he must be!" exclaimed Wargrave. "I am glad we getpigsticking here. I've always longed for it, but never have beenanywhere before where there was any, as you know."

  "It's lucky for us that the sport here is good; for without it life inRohar would be too awful to contemplate. It's the last place the Lordmade."

  "It's the hardest place to reach I've ever known," said Wargrave. "Itwas a shock to learn that, after forty-eight hours in the train, I hadtwo more days to travel after leaving the railway."

  "How did you like that forty miles in a camel train over the saltdesert? That made you sit up a bit, eh?"

  "It was awful. The heat and the glare off the sand nearly killed me. Yousay there is no society here?"

  "Society? The only Europeans here or in the whole State, besides thoseof us in the regiment, are the Resident and his wife."

  "What is a Resident, exactly?"

  "A Political Officer appointed by the Government of India to be a sortof adviser to a rajah and to keep a check on him if he rules his Statebadly. I shouldn't imagine that our fellow here, Major Norton, would bemuch good as an adviser to anybody. The only thing he seems to knowanything about is insects. He's quite a famous entomologist. Personallyhe's not a bad sort, but a bit of a bore."

  "What's his wife like?"

  "Oh, very different. Much younger and fond of gaiety, I think. Not thatshe can get any here. She's a decidedly pretty woman. I haven't seenmuch of her; for she has been away most of the time, that the regimenthas been here. She has relatives in Calcutta and stays a lot with them."

  "I don't blame her," said Wargrave, laughing. "Rohar must be a verydeadly place for a young woman. No amusements. No dances. No shops. Andthe only female society the wives of the Colonel and the Doctor."

  "Luckily for Mrs. Norton she is rather keen on sport and is a goodrider. You'll probably meet her to-day; for she generally comes outpigsticking with us, though she doesn't carry a spear. I've promised totake her shooting with us the next time we go. Hullo! here are theponies at last. Are you ready, Frank?"

  The two officers rose, as their _syces_, or native grooms, came upbefore the bungalow leading two ponies, a Waler and an Arab. Raymondwalked over to the bundle of spears and selected one with a leaf-shapedsteel head.

  "Try this, Frank," he said. "See if it suits you. You don't want toolong a spear."

  His companion balanced it in his hand.

  "Yes, it seems all right. I say, old chap, how does one go for the pig?Do you thrust at him?"

  "No; just ride hard at him with the spear pointed and held withstiffened arm. Your impetus will drive the steel well home into him."

  Mounting their ponies they started, the _syces_ carrying the spears andfollowing them at a steady run as they trotted down the sandy roadleading to the city, where at the Palace they were to meet the Maharajahand the other sportsmen. The sky was paling fast at the coming of thedawn; and they could discern the dozen bungalows and the RegimentalLines, or barracks, comprising the little cantonment, above whichtowered the dark mass of a rocky hill crowned by the ruined walls of anold native fort. On either side of their route the country was flat andat first barren. But, as they neared the capital, they passed throughcultivation and rode by green fields irrigated from deep wells, byhamlets of palm-thatched mud huts where no one yet stirred, and on towhere the high embrasured walls of the city rose above the plain. Underthe vaulted arch of the old gateway the ponies clattered, along throughthe narrow, silent streets of gaily-painted, wooden-balconied houses, atthat hour closely shuttered, until the Palace was reached as the risingsun began to flush the sky with rose-pink.

  The guard of sepoys at the great gate saluted as the two officers rodeinto the wide, paved courtyard lined by high, many-windowed buildings.In the centre of it a group of horsemen, nobles of the State orofficials of the Palace in gay dresses and bright-coloured _puggris_, orturbans, with gold or silver-hilted swords hanging from their belts, saton their restless animals behind the Maharajah, a pleasant-faced,athletic man in a white flannel coat, riding-breeches and long, softleather boots, mounted on a tall Waler gelding. He was chatting withfour or five other officers of the Punjaubis and raised his hand to hisforehead as the newcomers rode up and lifted their hats to him.

  "Good morning, Your Highness," said Raymond. "I hope we're not late. Letme present Mr. Wargrave of our regiment, who has just returned fromEngland."

  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 verypleased 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," repliedFrank, shaking his hand. "I'm awfully anxious to try it; but, being anovice, I'm afraid I'll only be in the way."

  "I'm sure you won't," said the Maharajah courteously. His command ofEnglish was perfect. "Pigsticking is not at all difficult; and I hearthat you are a good rider."

  He looked at his watch and then, turning in the saddle, addressedanother 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 Rosslaughingly.

  "Very well, gentlemen, we'll start."

  He waved his hand; and at the signal two black-bearded _sowars_, orsoldiers of his cavalry regiment, dashed by him and out through thePalace gates at a hard-gallop, leading the way past the guard, whoturned 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 theirwindows the sleepy inhabitants stared at the party, mostly too stupefiedat that hour to recognise and salute their ruler. Pot-bellied nakedbrown babies waddled on to the verandahs to gaze thumb in mouth at theriders. Pariah dogs, nosing at the gutters and rubbish-heaps thatscented the air, bolted out of the way of the horses' hoofs.

  As the sportsmen passed out of the city gates the sun was rising abovethe horizon, the terrible Hot Weather sun of India, whose advent ushersin the long hours of gasping, breathless heat. For a mile or so theroute lay through fertile gardens and fields. Then suddenly thecultivation ended abruptly on the edge of a sandy desert that, seamedwith _nullahs_, or deep, steep-sided ravines, and dotted with tallclumps of thorny cactus, stretched away to the horizon. The road becamea barely discernible track; but the two _sowars_ cantered on,confidently heading for the spot where the fresh horses awaited theparty.

  Over the sand the riders swept, past a slow-plodding elephant lumberingback to the city with a load of fodder, by groups of tethered camels.Hares started up in alarm and bounded away, grey partridges whirred upand yellow-beaked _minas_ flew off chattering indignantly. The slightmorning coolness soon vanished; and Wargrave, soft and somewhat out ofcondition after his weeks of shipboard life, wiped his streaming faceoften before the guiding _sowars_ threw up their hands in warning andvanished slowly from sight as their sure-footed horses picked their waydown a steep _nullah_. This was the ravine in which the quarry hid. Oneafter another of the riders followed the leaders down the narrow track,trotted across the sandy, rock-strewn river-bed and climbed up the farside to where the fresh horses and a picturesque mob of wild-lookingbeaters stood awaiting them.

  Among the animals Wargrave noticed a smart grey Arab pony with aside-saddle.

  "I see Mrs. Norton intends coming out with us," observed the Maharajahlooking at the pony. "We must wait for her."

  "It won't be for long, sir," said Raymond, pointing to a rising trail ofdust 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 couldsee that it was a lady galloping furiously over the sand.

  "By Jove, she can ride!" exclaimed Wargrave admiringly. "I hope she'llsee the _nullah_. She's heading straight for it."

  A shouted warning
caused her to pull up almost on the brink; and in afew minutes she joined the waiting group. Wargrave looked with interestat her, as she sat on her panting horse talking to the Maharajah and theother officers, who had dismounted.

  Mrs. Norton was a decidedly graceful and pretty woman. The roundedcurves of her shapely figure were set off to advantage by herriding-costume. Her eyes were especially attractive, greenish-grey eyesfringed by long black lashes under curved dark brows contrasting withthe warm auburn tint of the hair that showed under her sunhat. Hercomplexion was dazzlingly fair. Her mouth was rather large andvoluptuous with full red lips and even white teeth. Bewitching dimplesplayed in the pink cheeks. Even from a man like Wargrave, fresh fromEngland and consequently more inclined to be critical of female beautythan 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 andapproval.

  Accepting Captain Ross's aid she slipped lightly from her saddle to theground and on foot looked as graceful as she did when mounted. Raymondbrought his friend to her and introduced him.

  Holding out a small and shapely hand in a dainty leather gauntlet shesaid in a frank and pleasant manner:

  "How do you do, Mr. Wargrave? You are a fortunate person to have been inEngland so lately. I haven't seen it for nearly three years. Weren't yousorry to leave it?"

  "Not in the least, Mrs. Norton. I'd far sooner be doing this," he wavedhis hand towards the horses and the open desert, "than fooling aboutPiccadilly 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'dmean nothing to you."

  The Maharajah broke in:

  "Mrs. Norton, I think we had better mount. The beaters are going in; andthe _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 immatureboars being unmolested.

  Ross started forward to help Mrs. Norton on to her fresh pony; butWargrave refused to surrender the advantage of his proximity to her. Soit was into his hand she put her small foot in its well-made riding-bootand was swung up by him.

  The saddles of the rest of the party had been changed on to the horsesthat the Maharajah had provided. The beaters streamed down the steepbank into the ravine which some distance away was filled with densescrub affording good cover for the quarry. Forming line they movedthrough it with shrill yells, the blare of horns, the beating oftom-toms and a spluttering fire of blank cartridges from old muskets.The riders mounted and, spear in hand, eagerly watched their progressthrough the jungle. Wargrave found himself beside Mrs. Norton; but,after exchanging a few words, he forgot her presence as, his heartbeating fast with a true sportsman's excitement, he strained his eyesfor the first sight of a wild boar.

  Suddenly, several hundred yards away, he saw a squat, dark animal emergefrom the tangled scrub and, climbing up the _nullah_ on their side,stride away over the sand with a peculiar bounding motion that remindedWargrave of a rocking-horse. All eyes were turned towards theMaharajah, who would decide whether the animal were worthy of pursuit ornot. 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 withexcitement, 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 HisHighness, whose faster mount carried him at once ahead of the rest. Hesoon overtook the boar. Lowering his spear-point the Maharajah bentforward in the saddle; but at the last moment the pig "jinked," that is,turned sharply at right angles to his former course, and bounded awayuntouched, while the baffled sportsman was carried on helplessly by hisexcited horse.

  Wargrave, following at some distance to the Maharajah's right rear, sawto his mingled joy and trepidation the boar only a short way in front ofhim.

  "Ride, ride hard!" cried Mrs. Norton almost alongside him.

  Frank drove his spurs in; and the gaunt, raw-boned countrybred under himsprang forward. But just as it had all but reached the quarry, thelatter jinked again and Wargrave was borne on, tugging vainly at thehorse's iron jaws. But the boar had short shrift. With a rush Rossclosed on it and before it could swerve off sent his spear deep into itsside and, galloping on, turned his hand over, drawing out the lance. Thepig was staggered by the shock but started to run on. Before it couldget up speed one of the Indian nobles dashed at it with wild yells andspeared it again.

  The thrust this time was mortal. The boar staggered on a few steps, thenstumbled and fell heavily to the ground. The hunters reined in theirsweating horses and gathered round it.

  "Not a big animal," commented the Maharajah, scrutinising it with theeye of an expert. "About thirty-four inches high, I think. But the tusksare 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 firstinflicts a wound on the boar.

  "Better luck next time, Mr. Wargrave," said Mrs. Norton, riding up tohim. "I thought you were sure of him when he jinked away from theMaharajah."

  "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 pigbefore I didn't quite know what to do. However, I've seen now that itisn't very difficult; so I hope I'll get an opportunity later."

  "You are sure to, Mr. Wargrave," remarked the Maharajah. "There areseveral boars left in cover; and the men are going in again."

  The tatterdemalion mob of beaters was descending into the _nullah_; andsoon the wild din broke out once more. A gaunt grey boar with long andgleaming tusks was seen to emerge from the scrub and climb the far bankof the ravine, where he stood safely out of reach but in full view ofthe tantalised hunters. But a string of laden camels passing over thedesert scared him back again; and while the riders watched in eagerexcitement, he slowly descended into the _nullah_, crossed it and cameup 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 horsemenswept in a body over the sand and he found himself for a moment besidehis friend. "He's a beauty. Forty inches, I'll swear. Splendid tusks."

  Wargrave crouched like a jockey in the saddle as the riders raced madlyafter the boar. The Indians among them, wildly excited, brandished theirlances and uttered fierce cries as they galloped along. TheirMaharajah's speedier mount again took the lead; but even in India sportis democratic and his nobles, attendants and soldiers all tried toovertake and pass him. The white men, as is their wont, rode in silencebut 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 amaster of wiles. First one pursuer, then another, then a third and afourth, found himself almost upon the quarry and bent down withoutstretched, eager spear only to be baffled by a swift jink and carriedon 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 bruteinstantly swung in upon his horse, and with a fierce grunt dashed underit and leapt up at it with a toss of the head that gave an upward thrustto the long, curved tusk. In an instant the horse was ripped open andbrought crashing to the ground, pinning its rider's leg to the earthbeneath it. The boar turned again, marked the prostrate man, and with asavage gleam in its little eyes charged the Maharajah, its gleamingivory tusks, six inches long, as sharp and deadly as an Afridi's knife.