CHAPTER VIII
A GIRL OF THE FOREST
From the frontier of Bhutan, six thousand feet up on the face of themountains, a line of men wound down the serpentining track that led toRanga Duar. At their head walked a stockily-built man with cheeryMongolian features, wearing a white cloth garment, _kimono_-shaped andkilted up to give freedom to the sturdy bare thighs and knees--the legsand feet cased in long, felt-soled boots. It was the _Deb Zimpun_, theEnvoy of the independent Border State of Bhutan. Behind him came a tallman in khaki tunic, breeches, puttees and cap, his breast covered withbright-coloured ribbons. His uniform was similar to the British; but hisface was unmistakeably Chinese, as were those of the twenty tall,khaki-clad soldiers armed with magazine rifles at his heels. They werefollowed by three or four score Bhutanese swordsmen, thick-set and notunlike Gurkhas in feature, with bare heads, legs and feet, and clad onlyin a single garment similar to their leader's and kilted up by a cordaround the waist, from which hung a _dah_, a short sword or long knife.In rear of them trudged a number of coolies, some laden with bundles,others with baskets of fruit.
Where the track came out on the bare shoulder of a spur free from thesmall trees and undergrowth clothing the mountains the _Deb Zimpun_pointed to the roofs of the buildings in the little station a thousandfeet below them and hitherto invisible to them.
"That is Ranga Duar," he said briefly. The Chinaman behind him lookeddown at it.
"It seems a very small and weak place to have stopped our invadingtroops in the war," he said in Bhutanese. "So here lives the Man."
"The Man? Yes, perhaps he is a man. But many, very many, there be thatthink him a god or devil. They say he can call up a horde of demons inthe form of elephants. With such he trampled your army into the earth.
"Devils? Leave such tales to lamas and the ignorant fools that believetheir teaching. But if even a part of what I have heard about this manbe true he is more dangerous than many devils. He stands in China's way,and he who does shall be swept aside."
"He is my friend," said the _Deb Zimpun_ shortly, and tramped on insilence.
Before they reached the station they were met by two of the PoliticalOfficer's men, Bhuttias resident in British territory, detailed toreceive and guide them to the Government Dak Bungalow in which the _DebZimpun_ and as many of his followers as could crowd into it were toreside during their stay. Arrived at it the long line filed into thecompound.
Half a mile away down the hill Colonel Dermot and Wargrave watched themthrough their field-glasses.
"Who is that fellow in khaki uniform, sir?" asked the subaltern.
The Political Officer lowered his binoculars and laughed.
"A gentlemen I've been very anxious to meet. He's the Chinese_Amban_--we call him an Envoy of the Republic of China to Bhutan. Butthe Chinese themselves prefer to regard him as a representative of thesuzerainty they pretend to exercise over the country. I'm curious to seehim. He is a product of the times, an example of the modern Celestial,educated at Heidelberg University and Oxford, speaking German, Frenchand English. He has been specially chosen by his Government to come to aBuddhist land, as he is a son of the abbot of the Yellow Lama Temple inPekin and so might have influence with the Bhutanese by reason of hisconnection with their religion."
"But what have the Chinese to do with Bhutan?"
"Nothing now. But they've been intriguing for years to re-establish thesuzerainty they once had over it. This _Amban_, Yuan Shi Hung by name,is a clever, unscrupulous and particularly dangerous individual."
"You seem to know a lot about him, Colonel."
"It's my business to do so. There is no apparent reason for his cominghere with the _Deb Zimpun_, nor has he a right to. But I won't object,for I want to study and size him up. By the way, the Envoy will make hisofficial call on me this morning. Would you like to be present?"
"Very much indeed. I'm always interested in seeing the various races ofIndia and learning all I can about them. I'd love a job like yours, sir,going into out-of-the-way places and dealing with strange peoples."
"Would you?" The Political Officer looked at him thoughtfully. "Are yougood at picking up native languages?"
"Fairly so. I got through my Lower and Higher Standard Hindustani firstgo and have passed in Marathi and taken the Higher Standard, Persian."
Colonel Dermot regarded him critically and then said abruptly:
"Come to my office a few minutes before eleven. That's the hour I'vefixed for the _Deb Zimpun's_ visit."
Punctually at the time named Wargrave reached the Dermots' bungalow, onthe road outside which, a Guard of Honour of fifty sepoys under anIndian officer was drawn up. Passing along the verandah he entered theoffice and saluted the Colonel who, seated at his desk, looked up andnodded for him to be seated and then returned to the despatch that hewas writing.
In a few minutes a confused murmur drew nearer down the road and wasstilled by the sharp words of command to the Guard of Honour and by thering of rifles brought to the present in salute. Over the low wall ofthe garden appeared the heads and shoulders of the Envoy and his Chinesecompanion, followed by a train of attendants and swordsmen. They passedin through the gate. The Political Officer rose as the _Deb Zimpun_,removing his cap, entered the office and rushed towards him. Thebullet-headed, cheery old gentleman beamed with pleasure as they shookhands and greeted each other in Bhutanese. Wargrave marvelled at theease and fluency with which Colonel Dermot spoke the language. The_Amban_ now entered the room and was formally presented by the _DebZimpun_.
Speaking in excellent English but with an accent that showed that he hadfirst acquired it in Germany, he said:
"I am very pleased to meet you, Colonel. I have heard much of you inBhutan."
"It gives me equal pleasure to make Your Excellency's acquaintance andto welcome you to India," replied Dermot with a bow.
Then in his turn Wargrave was presented to the two Asiatics, and theEnvoy, calling an attendant in, took from him two white scarves ofChinese silk and placed one round each officer's neck in the customknown as "_khattag_". All sat down and the Envoy plunged into ananimated conversation with Colonel Dermot, first producing a metal boxand taking betel-nut from it to chew, while the attendant placed aspittoon conveniently near him.
Yuan Shi Hung chatted in English with Wargrave, who was astonished tofind him a well-educated man of the world and thoroughly conversant withEuropean politics, art and letters. But for the inscrutable yellow facethe subaltern could have believed himself to be talking to an ableContinental diplomat. The contrast between the semi-savage Bhutaneseofficial and his companion, in whom the most modern civilisedgentleman's manners were successfully grafted on the old-time courtesyof the Chinese aristocrat, was very striking. The old Envoy was a frankbarbarian. He laughed loudly and clapped his hands in glee when ColonelDermot presented him with a gramophone--which, it appeared, he hadlonged for ever since seeing one on a previous visit to India--andtaught him how to work it. He showed his betel-stained teeth in anecstatic grin when a record was turned on and from the trumpet came thePolitical Officer's familiar voice addressing him by name and in his ownlanguage with many flourishes of Oriental compliment.
Towards the termination of their call the _Deb Zimpun_ called in twoattendants with large baskets of fine blood oranges and walnuts fromBhutan and presented them in return. A number of coolies were needed tocarry off the royal gift of the flesh of the bison, the sight of whichmade the Envoy's eyes glisten. He shook Wargrave's hand warmly when helearned to whose rifle he owed it. Then he and his Chinese companiontook their leave, and with their followers passed up the hilly road.Wargrave, gazing after them, came to the conclusion that of the pair hepreferred the savage to the ultra-cultivated Celestial.
Having thanked the Colonel for permitting him to be present at theinterview, which had interested him greatly, the subaltern was about toleave when Mrs. Dermot appeared at the office door.
"May I come in, Kevin?" she began. "Oh, good morning, Mr. Wargrave. Iwas ju
st sending a _chit_ (letter) to you and Captain Burke asking youto tea this afternoon. A coolie has arrived from the _peelkhana_ to saythat Mr. and Miss Benson and Mr. Carter are on their way up and will behere soon. So you'll meet them at tea. You will like Miss Benson. She'sa dear girl."
"Thanks very much, Mrs. Dermot. I'll be delighted to come, if you'llforgive me should I be a little late. I've got to take the signallers'parade this afternoon. I'll tell Burke when I get to the Mess. I'm goingstraight there now."
"Thank you. That will save me writing. _Au revoir_."
Half-way up the road to the Mess Wargrave looked back and saw anelephant heave into sight around a bend below the Dermots' house andplod heavily up to their gate. On the _charjama_--the passenger-carryingcontrivance of wooden seats on the pad with footboards hanging by shortropes--sat a lady and two European men holding white umbrellas up tokeep off the vertical rays of the noonday sun. When the animal sank toits knees in front of the bungalow Wargrave saw the girl--it could onlybe Miss Benson--spring lightly to the ground before either of hercompanions could dismount and offer to help her. Her big sunhat hid herface, and at that distance Wargrave could only see that she was smalland slight, as she walked up the garden path.
When the signallers' afternoon practice was over the subaltern passedacross the parade ground to the Political Officer's house. When heentered the pretty drawing-room, bright with the gay colours of chintzcurtains and cushions, he found the strangers present, one man talkingto Mrs. Dermot at her tea-table, the other chatting with the Colonel,while Burke was installed beside a girl seated in a low cane chair anddressed in a smart, hand-embroidered Tussore silk dress, _suede_ shoesand silk stockings. Little Brian stood beside her with one armaffectionately round her neck, while Eileen was perched in her lap. Butwhen Frank appeared the mite wriggled down to the floor and rushed tohim.
The subaltern was presented to Miss Benson, her father and Carter, theSub-Divisional Officer or Civil Service official of the district. Whenhe sat down Eileen clambered on to his knee and seriously interferedwith his peaceful enjoyment of his tea; but while he talked to her hewas watching Miss Benson over the small golden head. She wasastonishingly pretty, with silky black hair curving in natural waves,dark-bordered Irish grey eyes fringed with long, thick lashes, arose-tinted complexion, a pouting, red-lipped mouth and a small nosewith the most fascinating, provoking suspicion of a tip-tilt. She was assmall and daintily-fashioned as her hostess; and Wargrave thought itmarvellous that their forgotten outpost on the face of the mountainsshould hold two such pretty women at the same time. His comrade Burkewas evidently acutely conscious of Muriel Benson's attractions, and, hispleasantly ugly face aglow with a happy smile, he was flirting as openlyand outrageously with her as she with him.
"Sure, it's a cure for sore eyes ye are, Miss Flower Face," he said."That's the name I christened her with the first moment I saw her,Wargrave. Doesn't it fit her?" Then turning to the girl again, hecontinued, "Aren't you ashamed av yourself for laving me to pine for asight av ye all these weary months?"
Miss Benson could claim to be Irish on her mother's side and so was aready-witted match for the doctor's Celtic exuberance; though toWargrave watching it seemed that Burke's easy banter cloaked a deeperfeeling.
Drawn into their conversation Frank found the girl to be natural andunaffected, without a trace of conceit, gifted with a keen sense ofhumour and evidently as full of the joy of living as a school-boy. Hethought her laugh delightfully musical, and it was frequently andreadily evoked by Burke's droll remarks or the quaint oracular sayingsfrom the self-possessed elf on Wargrave's knee. Her admiration of andgenuine affection for Mrs. Dermot was very evident when Noreen joinedtheir group.
The subaltern, covertly and critically observing her, could hardlybelieve the tales which their hostess had previously told him of thecourage and ability that this small and dainty girl had frequentlyshown. But only a few minutes' conversation with her father convincedFrank that he was an amiably weak and incompetent individual, morefitted to be a recluse and a bookworm than a roamer in wild jungleswhere his work brought him in contact with strange peoples and constantdanger. It was evident that the reputation which his large section ofthe Terai Forest bore as being well managed and efficiently run was notdue to him and that somebody more capable had the handling of the work.Hardly had Wargrave come to this conclusion and begun to believe thatthe stories that he had heard of the daughter's business ability andpowers of organisation were true when he was given a very convincingproof of her courage and coolness in danger.
After tea, as the sun was nearing its setting and a deliciously coolbreeze blew down from the mountains, a move was made to the garden,where the party sat in a circle and chatted. When evening came and thedusk rose up from the world below, blotting out the light lingering onthe hills, Mrs. Dermot made her children say goodnight to the companyand bore them reluctant away to their beds. As the darkness deepened theservants brought out a small table and placed a lamp on it, and by itslight carried round drinks to the men of the party. Miss Benson wasleaning back in a cane chair and chatting lazily with Burke, who satbeside her. She had one shapely silk-clad leg crossed over the other,and a small foot resting on the grass. Opposite her sat Colonel Dermotand Wargrave. As the brilliant tropic stars came out in the velvetyblackness of the sky occasional silences fell on the party. A tale ofBurke's was interrupted by the Political Officer's voice, saying in aquiet forceful tone:
"Miss Benson, please do not move your foot. Remain perfectly still. Asnake is passing under your chair. Steady, Burke! Keep still!"
There was a terror-stricken hush. Frank looked across in horror. Thelamplight barely showed in the shadow under the chair a deadlyhill-viper writhing its way out within a few inches of the small footfirmly planted in its dainty, high-heeled shoe. He looked at themotionless girl. Less pale than the men about her she sat quietly,smiling faintly and apparently not frightened by the Death almosttouching her. One pink hand lay without a tremor in her lap, but theother rested on the arm of her chair and the knuckles showed white asthe fingers gripped the bamboo tightly. She did not even glance down.But the men, frozen with dread, watched the shadowy writhing linepassing her foot slowly, all too slowly, until it had wriggled out intothe centre of the circle of motionless beings. Then Colonel Dermotsprang up. Seizing his light bamboo chair in his powerful grip hewhirled it aloft and brought it crashing down on the viper, shatteringthe chair but smashing the reptile's spine in half a dozen places.
The other men had risen from their seats; but the girl remained seatedand said quietly:
"Thank you very much, Colonel, for warning me. I might easily have movedmy foot and trodden on the snake. I've seen so many of the horrid thingsin camp lately. Now, Captain Burke, I'm sorry that the interruptionspoiled your story. Please go on with it."
Her coolness silenced the men, who were breaking into exclamations ofrelief and congratulation. Even her father sat down again calmly.
But Burke's enthusiastic admiration of her courage found an outlet atMess that night when he recounted the adventure to Major Hunt andappealed to Wargrave for confirmation of the story of her pluckybehaviour. Later in his room as he was going to bed Frank smiled at therecollection of the Irishman's exuberant expressions; but he confessedto himself that the girl's calm courage was worthy of every praise.
"She is certainly brave," he thought. "I'm not surprised at old Burke'sinfatuation. She is decidedly pretty. What lovely eyes she's got--andwhat a provokingly attractive little nose! Well, the doctor's a luckyman if she marries him. She seems awfully nice. Violet will certainlyhave two very charming women friends in the station if she hits it offwith them."
But as his eyes rested on her pictured face his heart misgave him; forhe remembered that she had little liking for her own sex. And then, hetold himself, these two would probably refuse to know a woman who hadrun away from her husband to another man. When he had turned out thelight and jumped into bed he lay awake a long time puzzling over thetan
gle into which the threads of her life and his seemed to have got.Time alone could unravel it.
He tossed uneasily on his bed, unable to sleep, and presently a slightnoise on the verandah outside caught his ear. He lay still and listened;and it seemed to him that soft footfalls of a large animal's padssounded on the wooden flooring. Then suddenly he heard a beast sniffingat his closed door. "A stray dog," he thought. But suddenly heremembered Burke's account of the panther that haunted the Mess; and athrill of excitement ran through him and drove all his unhappy thoughtsaway. He sprang out of bed and rushed across the room to get his rifle,but in the darkness overturned a chair which fell with a crash to theground. This scared the animal; for there was a sudden scurry outside,and by the time Wargrave had found the rifle and groped for a couple ofcartridges there was nothing to be seen on the verandah when he threwopen the door. It was a brilliant star-lit night. Burke called to himfrom his room and when Wargrave went to him said that he too had heardthe animal, which was undoubtedly the panther.
Returning to bed Frank was dropping off to sleep half an hour later whenhe was startled by a shrill, agonised shriek coming from a distance.Rifle in hand he rushed out on to the verandah again and heard faintshouts coming from a small group of Bhuttia huts on a shoulder of thehills hundreds of feet above the Mess. He called out but got no answer;and after listening for some time and hearing nothing further hereturned to bed and at last fell asleep. In the morning he learned thatthe panther had made a daring raid on a hut and carried off a Bhuttiawood-cutter's baby from its sleeping mother's side, and had devoured itin the jungle not two hundred yards away.
The Durbar, or official ceremony of the public reception of the BhutanEnvoy and the paying over to him of the annual subsidy of a hundredthousand rupees, was held in a marquee on the parade ground in theafternoon. There was a Guard of Honour of a hundred sepoys to salute,first the Political Officer and afterwards the _Deb Zimpun_ when hearrived on a mule at the head of his swordsmen and coolies. Thesolemnity of his dignified greeting to Colonel Dermot was somewhatspoiled by shrieks of delight and loud remarks from Eileen (who wasseated beside her mother in the marquee) at the stately appearance ofthe Envoy. He was attired in a very voluminous red Chinese silk robeembroidered in gold and wearing a peculiar gold-edged cap shaped like apapal tiara.
The Political Officer's official dinner took place that evening at hisbungalow. Besides the officers and the three European visitors the _DebZimpun_ and the _Amban_ were present. The latter wore conventionalevening dress cut by a London tailor, with the stars and ribands ofseveral orders. But the old Envoy in his flowing red silk robecompletely outshone the two ladies, although Miss Benson was wearing hermost striking frock.
"Sure, don't we look like a State Banquet at Buckingham Palace or acharity dinner at the Dublin Mansion House?" said Burke, looking aroundthe company gathered about the oval dining-table. He was seated besideMiss Benson, who was on the host's right and facing the _Amban_ on hisleft.
At the Durbar Wargrave had noticed that the Chinaman stared all the timeat the girl, and now during the meal he seemed to devour her with anunpleasant gaze, gloating over the beauties of her bared shoulders andbosom until she became uncomfortably conscious of it herself. Theunveiled flesh of a white woman is peculiarly attractive to the Asiatic,the better-class females of whose race are far less addicted to thepublic exposure of their charms than are European ladies. While the _DebZimpun_ touched nothing but water the _Amban_ drank champagne, port andliqueurs freely--even the untravelled Chinaman is partial to Europeanliquors--yet they seemed not to affect him. But his slanted eyes burnedall the more fiercely as their gaze was fixed on the girl opposite him.
He endeavoured to engage her in conversation across the table, andappeared ready to resent anyone else intervening in the talk as hedilated on the gaieties and pleasures of life in London, Berlin andParis, where he had been attached to the Chinese Embassies. He glared atBurke when the doctor persisted in mentioning the panther's visit duringthe previous night, for the conversation at their end of the table thenturned on sport. A chance remark of Miss Benson on tiger-shooting madeWargrave ask:
"Have you shot tigers, too, like Mrs. Dermot? And I've never seen oneoutside a cage!"
The girl smiled, and the Colonel answered for her.
"Miss Benson has got at least six. Seven, is it? More than my wife has.And among them was the famous man-eater of Mardhura, which had killedtwenty-three persons. The natives of the district call her 'The TigerGirl.'"
"Troth, my name for you is a prettier one, Miss Benson," said Burkelaughing.
She made a _moue_ at him, but said to the subaltern:
"Cheer up, Mr. Wargrave, you've lots of time before you yet. Yououghtn't to complain--you've only been a few days here and you'vealready got a splendid bison. And they're rare in these parts."
"We'll have to find him a tiger, Muriel," said their host. "When youhear of a kill anywhere conveniently near, let me know and we'll arrangea beat for him."
"With pleasure, Colonel. We're soon going to the southern fringe of theforest; and, as you know, there are usually tigers to be found in the_nullahs_ on the borders of the cultivated country. I'll send you_khubber_ (news)."
"Thank you very much," said Wargrave. "I do want to get one."
All through the conversation the girl felt the Chinaman's bold eyesseeming to burn her flesh, and she was glad when the Political Officerspoke to him and engaged his attention. And she was still more relievedwhen dinner ended and Mrs. Dermot rose to leave the table. When the menjoined them later on the verandah Burke and Wargrave made a point ofhemming her in on both sides and keeping the _Amban_ off; for even theshort-sighted doctor had become cognisant of the Chinaman's offensivestare.
When he and the _Deb Zimpun_ had left the bungalow she said to the twoofficers:
"I'm so glad you didn't let that awful man come near me. He makes meafraid. There's something so evil about him that I shudder when he looksat me."
"The curse av the crows on the brute!" exclaimed Burke hotly. "Don't yebe afraid. We won't let the divil come next or nigh ye, will we,Wargrave?"
And on the following day when the visitors were entertained by athleticsports of the detachment on the parade ground and an interesting archerycompetition between excited teams of the _Deb Zimpun's_ followers andof local Bhuttias, they allowed the _Amban_ no opportunity ofapproaching her. During the sports Wargrave noticed on one occasion thathe seemed to be speaking of her to the commander of his escort ofChinese soldiers, a tall, evil-faced Manchu, pock-marked and blind ofthe right eye, who stared at her fixedly for some time. At the dinner atthe Mess that night the two ladies wore frocks that were very little_decollete_. Burke, as Mess President, had arranged the table so thatthe _Amban_ was as far away from them as possible; and Wargrave and hemounted guard over Miss Benson when the meal was ended.
The _Deb Zimpun_ had fixed his departure for an early hour on thefollowing morning and was to be accompanied by the Political Officer,who was going to visit the Maharajah of Bhutan. In the course of the daythe Chinese _Amban_ had announced to Colonel Dermot that he did not wishto leave so soon and desired to remain longer in Ranga Duar; but thePolitical Officer courteously but very firmly told him that he must gowith the Envoy.
Early next morning, while Noreen Dermot was occupied with her children,and her husband was completing his preparations for departure, MurielBenson went out into the garden. Badshah, pad strapped on ready for theroad, was standing at one side of the bungalow swinging his trunk andshifting from foot to foot as he patiently awaited his master. The girlgreeted and petted him, then went to gather flowers and cut bunches ofbright-coloured leaves from high bushes of bougainvillea and poinsettiathat hid her from view from the house.
Suddenly a harsh voice sounded in her ears.
"I have tried to speak to you alone, but those fools were ever in myway. Do not cry out. You must listen to me."
She started violently and turned to find the _Amban_, dressed in khakian
d ready to march, behind her. Courageous as she usually was theextraordinary repulsion and terror with which he inspired her kept hersilent as he continued:
"I want you, and I shall take you sooner or later. Listen! I am one ofthe richest men in all China. One day I shall be President--and thenEmperor the next; and when I rule my country shall no longer be theeffete, despised land torn with dissension that it is now. I can giveyou everything that the heart of a woman, white or yellow, candesire--take you from your dull, poverty-stricken life to raise you topower and immense wealth. I shall return for you one day. Will you cometo me?"
The girl drew back, pale as death and unable to cry out. He glancedaround. The tall, red-leaved bushes hid them; there was no one ornothing within sight, except the elephant shifting restlessly.
"Answer me!" he said almost menacingly.
She was silent. He sprang forward and seized her roughly.
"Speak! You must answer," he said.
The girl shrank at his touch and struggled in vain in his powerfulgrasp.
Then suddenly she cried out:
"Badshah!"
The Chinaman thrust his face, inflamed with passion and desire, close tohers.
"You must, you shall, come to me--by force, if not willingly," hegrowled. "By all the gods or devils----."
But at that instant he was plucked from her by a resistless force andhurled violently to the ground. Dazed and half-stunned he looked up andsaw the elephant standing over him with one colossal foot poised overhis prostrate body, ready to crush him to pulp. Brave as the Chinamanwas he trembled with terror at the imminent, awful death.
But a quiet voice sounded clear through the garden.
"_Jane do_! (Let him go!)"
The elephant brought the threatening foot to the ground but stood, withcurled trunk and ears cocked forward, ready to annihilate him if theinvisible speaker gave the word. The girl shrank against the greatanimal, clinging to it and looking with horror at the prostrate man. The_Amban_ slowly dragged his bruised body from the ground and staggeredshaken and dizzy out of the garden.
Muriel kissed the soft trunk and laid her cheek against it, and itcurved to touch her hair with a gentle caress. Then she fled into thebungalow to find Colonel Dermot on the verandah grimly watching theChinaman stumbling blindly up the steep road. His wife beside him openedher arms to the shaken girl.
"He shall pay for that some day, Muriel," said the Political Officersternly. "But not yet."
An hour later the two women watched the snaking line crawl up the steepface of the mountains, and through field-glasses they could distinguishBadshah with his master on his neck, the _Deb Zimpun_ and his followersand the tall form of the Chinaman, until all vanished from sight in thetrees clothing the upper hills.
Benson and Carter left that afternoon, Muriel remaining to spend alonger time with her friend and, as she told Wargrave, to try and regainthe affections of the children which he had stolen from her.
Frank was thinking of her next day as he was standing on the Messverandah after tea, cleaning his fowling-piece, when on a wooded spurrunning down from the mountains and sheltering the little station on thewest he heard a jungle-cock crowing in the undergrowth not four hundredyards away. Seizing a handful of cartridges he loaded his gun and,running down the steps and across the garden, plunged into the jungle.He walked cautiously, his rope-soled boots enabling him to movesilently, and stopped occasionally to listen for the bird's crow or thetelltale pattering over the dried leaves. Peering into the undergrowthand searching the ground he crept quietly forward. Suddenly his heartseemed to leap to his throat. In a patch of dust he saw the unmistakable_pug_ (footprint) of a large panther. One claw had indented a new-fallenleaf, showing that the animal had very recently passed. Wargrave haltedand thought hard. He had only his shotgun, but the sun was near itssetting and if he returned to the Mess to get his rifle--which was takento pieces and locked up in its case--darkness would probably fall beforehe could overtake the panther, which was possibly moving on ahead ofhim. So he resolved not to turn back, but opened the breech of his gunand extracted the cartridges. With his knife he cut their thick casesalmost through all round at the wad, dividing the powder from the shot.For he knew that thus treated and fired the whole upper portion of thecartridges would be shot out of the barrels like solid bullets and carryforty yards without breaking up and scattering the shot.
Reloading he advanced cautiously, frequently losing and refinding thetrail. Creeping through a clump of thin bushes he stopped suddenly,frozen with horror and dread.
In an open patch of woodland the two Dermot children stood by a tree,the girl huddled against the trunk, while the little boy had placedhimself in front of her and, with a small stick in his hand, was bravelyfacing in her defence an animal crouching on the ground not twenty yardsaway. It was a large panther. Belly to earth, tail lashing from side toside, it was crawling slowly, imperceptibly nearer its prey. With earsflattened against the skull and lips drawn back to bare the gleamingfangs in a devilish grin it snarled at the brave child whose dauntlessattitude doubtless puzzled it.
"Don't cry, Eileen. I won't let it hurt you," said the little boyencouragingly. "Go 'way, nasty dog!"
He raised his little stick above his head. A boy should always protect agirl, his father had often said, so he was not going to let the beastharm his tiny sister. The panther crouched lower. The watcher in thebushes saw the powerful limbs gathering under the spotted body for thefatal spring. Every muscle and sinew was tense for the last rush andleap, as the subaltern raised his gun.