The Jungle Girl Read online

  CHAPTER II

  YOUTH CALLS TO YOUTH

  But at that moment a shout made the boar hesitate, and Raymond dashed inon 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 strickenbeast tottered forward a yard or two, then turned and stood undauntedlyat bay, as a _sowar_ rode at it. But before his steel could touch itshide it shuddered and sank to the ground dead.

  The dying horse was lifted off the Maharajah who, with the courage ofhis race, had remained calm in the face of the onrushing death. He wasassisted to rise, but was so severely shaken and bruised that at firsthe was unable to stand without support. Leaning on the arm of one of hisnobles he held out his hand to Raymond, when the latter rode up, andthanked him gratefully for his timely aid. Then the exhausted butgallant prince sat down on the sand to recover himself. But he assuredeveryone that he was not hurt and, insisting that the sport should goon, gave orders for the beat to continue.

  Wargrave had chanced to dismount to tighten the girth of Mrs. Norton'shorse, when a fresh boar broke from cover and was instantly pursued byall the others of the hunt. The subaltern ruefully accepted the lady'sapologies and hurriedly swung himself up into the saddle again tofollow, when his companion cried:

  "Look! Look, Mr. Wargrave! There's another. Come, we'll have him all toourselves."

  And striking her pony with her gold-mounted whip she dashed off at agallop after a grey old boar that had craftily kept close in cover andcrept out quietly after the beaters had passed. Wargrave, filled withexcitement, struck spurs to his mount and raced after her, soon catchingup and passing her. Over the sand pitted with holes and strewn withloose stones they raced, the boar bounding before them with rockingmotion and leading them in a long, stern chase. Again and again thebeast swerved; but at last with a fierce thrill Wargrave felt the steelhead of the spear strike home in the quarry. As he was carried on pastit he withdrew the weapon, then pulled his panting horse round. The boarwas checked; but the wound only infuriated him and aroused his fightingardour. He dashed at Mrs. Norton; but, as Frank turned, the game bruterecognised the more dangerous adversary, and with a fierce grunt chargedsavagely at him. Wargrave plunged his spurs into his horse, which sprangforward, just clearing the boar's snout, as the rider leant well out andspeared the pig through the heart. Then with a wild, exultant whoop thesubaltern swung round in the saddle and saw the animal totter forwardand collapse on the sand. Only a sportsman could realise his feeling oftriumph at the fall of his first boar.

  Mrs. Norton was almost as excited as he, her sparkling eyes and faceflushed a becoming pink, making her even prettier in his eyes as sherode up and congratulated him.

  "Well done, Mr. Wargrave!" she cried, trotting up to where he sat on hispanting horse over the dead boar. "You did that splendidly! And the veryfirst time you've been out pigsticking, too!"

  "It was just luck," replied the subaltern modestly, not ill-pleased ather praise.

  "What a glorious run he gave us!" she continued. "And we had it all toourselves, which made it better. I'm always afraid of the Maharajah'sfollowers, for in a run they ride so recklessly and carry their spearsso 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 thatgallop."

  With Wargrave's aid she dropped lightly to the ground; and he remarkedagain with admiration the graceful lines and rounded curves of herfigure as she walked to the dead boar and touched the tusks.

  "What a splendid pair! You are lucky," she exclaimed. "The biggestanyone 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. "Youdeserve them, for you rode so well after the boar and I believe you'dhave got him if you'd carried a spear."

  "No, indeed, Mr. Wargrave; I wouldn't dream of taking them," shereplied, 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 mustfind a _sowar_ to get the coolies to bring the boar in. But I wonderwhere we are. Where is everyone?"

  Wargrave looked about him and for the first time realised that they werefar out in the desert without a landmark to guide them. On every sidethe sand stretched away to the horizon, its flat expanse broken only byclumps 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 heseemed to be alone in the world; and he began to wonder apprehensivelyif they were destined to undergo the unpleasant experience of being lostin the desert. The sun high overhead afforded no help; and Wargraveremembered neither the direction of the city nor where lay the ravine inwhich the beat had taken place.

  "You don't happen to know where we are, I suppose, Mrs. Norton?" heasked his companion.

  "I haven't the least idea. It looks as if we're lost," she repliedcalmly. "We had better wait quietly where we are instead of wanderingabout trying to find our way. When we are missed the Maharajah willprobably send somebody to look for us."

  "I daresay you're right," said Wargrave. "You know more about the desertthan I do. By Jove, I'd give anything to come across the camel thatRaymond tells me brings out drinks and ice. My throat is parched. Aren'tyou very thirsty?"

  "Terribly so. Isn't the heat awful?" she exclaimed, trying to fanherself with the few inches of cambric and lace that represented ahandkerchief.

  "Awful. The blood seems to be boiling in my head," gasped the subaltern."I've never felt heat like this anywhere else in India. But, thankgoodness, it seems to be clouding over. That will make it cooler."

  Mrs. Norton looked around. A dun veil was being swiftly drawn up oversun and sky and blotting out the landscape.

  "Good gracious! There's worse trouble coming. That's a sandstorm," shecried, for the first time exhibiting a sign of nervousness.

  "Good heavens, how pleasant! Are we going to be buried under a mound ofsand, like the pictures we used to have in our schoolbooks of caravansoverwhelmed in the Sahara?"

  Mrs. Norton smiled.

  "Not quite as bad as that," she answered. "But unpleasant enough, Iassure you. If only we had any shelter!"

  Wargrave looked around desperately. He had hitherto no experience ofdesert country; and the sudden darkness and the grim menace of theapproaching black wall of the sandstorm seemed to threaten disaster. Hesaw a thick clump of cactus half a mile away.

  "We'd better make for that," he said, pointing to it. "It will serve tobreak the force of the wind if we get to leeward of it. Let's mount."

  He put her on her horse and then swung himself up into the saddle.Together they raced for the scant shelter before the dark menaceoverspreading earth and sky. The sun was now hidden; but that brought norelief, for the heat was even more stifling and oppressive than before.The wind seemed like a blast of hot air from an opened furnace door.

  Pulling up when they reached the dense thicket of cactus with its broadgreen leaves studded with cruel thorns, Wargrave jumped down and liftedMrs. Norton from the saddle. The horses followed them instinctively, asthey pressed as closely as they could to the shelter of the inhospitableplant. The animals turned their tails towards the approaching storm andinstinctively huddled against their human companions in distress.Wargrave took off his jacket and spread it around Mrs. Norton's head,holding her to him.

  With a shrill wail the dark storm swept down upon them, and a millionsharp particles of sand beat on them, stinging, smothering, chokingthem. The horses crowded nearer to the man, and the woman clung tighterto him as he wrapped her more closely in the protecting cloth. He feltsuffocated, stifled, his lungs bursting, his throat burning, while everybreath he drew was laden with the irritating sand. It penetrated throughall the openings of his clothing, down his collar, inside his shirt,into his boots. The heat was terrific, unbearable, the darkness intense.Wargrave began to wonder if his first apprehensions were not justified,if they could hope to escape alive or were destined to be buri
ed underthe stifling pall that enveloped them. He felt against him the soft bodyof the woman clinging desperately to him; and the warm contact thrilledhim. A feeling of pity, of tenderness for her awoke in him at thethought that this young and attractive being was fated perhaps to perishby so awful a death. And instinctively, unconsciously, he held hercloser to him.

  For minutes that seemed hours the storm continued to shriek and roarover and around them. But at length the choking waves began to diminishin density and slowly, gradually, the deadly, smothering pall was liftedfrom them. The black wall passed on and Wargrave watched it moving awayover the desert. The storm had lasted half an hour, but the subalternbelieved its duration to have been hours. The fine grit had penetratedinto the case of his wrist-watch and stopped it. A cool, refreshingbreeze sprang up. Pulling his jacket off Mrs. Norton's head, Wargravesaid:

  "It's all over at last."

  "Oh, thank God!" she exclaimed fervently, standing erect and drawing adeep breath of cool air into her labouring lungs. "I thought I was goingto be smothered."

  "It was a decidedly unpleasant experience and one I don't want to tryagain. My throat is parched; I must have swallowed tons of sand. Andlook at the state I'm in!"

  He was powdered thick with it, clothes, hair, eyebrows, grey with it. Ithad caked on his face damp with perspiration.

  "Thanks to your jacket I've escaped pretty well, although I was almostsuffocated," she said. "Well, now that it is over surely someone willcome to look for us."

  "Then we had better get up on our horses and move out into the open.We'll be more visible," said Wargrave.

  Yet he felt a strange reluctance to quit the spot; for the thought cameto him that their unpleasant experience in it would henceforth be a linkbetween them. A few hours before he had not known of this woman'sexistence! and now he had held her to his breast and tried to protecther against the forces of Nature. The same idea seemed born in her mindat the same time; for, when he had brushed the dust off her saddle andlifted her on to it, she turned to look with interest at the spot asthey rode away from it.

  They had not long to wait out in the open before they saw three or fourriders spread over the desert apparently looking for them, so theycantered towards them. As soon as they were seen by the search party a_sowar_ galloped to meet them and, saluting, told them that theMaharajah and the rest had taken refuge from the storm in a village acouple of miles away. Then from the _kamarband_, or broad clothencircling his waist like a sash, he produced two bottles of soda-waterwhich he opened and gave to them. The liquid was warm, but neverthelesswas acceptable to their parched throats.

  They followed their guide at a gallop and soon were being welcomed bythe rest of the party in a small village of low mud huts. A couple ofkneeling camels, bubbling, squealing and viciously trying to biteeveryone within reach, were being unloaded by some of the Maharajah'sservants. Other attendants were spreading a white cloth on the ground bya well under a couple of tall palm-trees and laying on it an excellentcold lunch for the Europeans, with bottles of champagne standing insilver pails filled with ice.

  As soon as his anxiety on Mrs. Norton's account was relieved by herarrival, His Highness, who as an orthodox Hindu could not eat with hisguests, begged them to excuse him and, being helped with difficulty onhis horse, rode slowly off, still shaken and sorely bruised by his fall.His nobles and officials accompanied him.

  After lunch all went to inspect the heap of slain boars laid on theground in the shade of a hut. Wargrave's kill had been added to it. Muchto the subaltern's delight its tusk proved to be the longest and finestof all; and he was warmly congratulated by the more experiencedpigstickers on his success. Shortly afterwards the beaters went into the_nullah_ again; and a few more runs added another couple of boars to thebag. Then, after iced drinks while their saddles were being changed backon to their own horses, the Britishers mounted and started on theirhomeward journey.

  Without quite knowing how it happened Wargrave found himself ridingbeside Mrs. Norton behind the rest of the party. On the way back theychatted freely and without restraint, like old friends. For theincidents of the day had served to sweep away formality between them andto give them a sense of long acquaintanceship and mutual liking. And,when the time came for Mrs. Norton to separate from the others as shereached the spot where the road to the Residency branched off, thesubaltern volunteered to accompany her.

  It had not taken them long to discover that they had several tastes incommon.

  "So you like good music?" she said after a chance remark of his. "It ispleasant to find a kindred spirit in this desolate place. The ladies andthe other officers of your regiment are Philistines. Ragtime is more intheir line than Grieg or Brahms. And the other day Captain Ross asked meif Tschaikowsky wasn't the Russian dancer at the Coliseum in town."

  Wargrave laughed.

  "I know. I became very unpopular when I was Band President and made ourband play Wagner all one night during Mess. I gave up trying to elevatetheir musical taste when the Colonel told me to order the bandmaster to'stop that awful rubbish and play something good, like the selectionfrom the last London _revue_.'"

  "Are you a musician yourself?" she asked.

  "I play the violin."

  "Oh, how ripping! You must come often and practise with me. I've anexcellent piano; but I rarely touch it now. My husband takes no interestin music--or indeed, in anything else I like. But, then, I am notthrilled by his one absorbing passion in life--insects. So we're quits,I suppose."

  Their horses were walking silently over the soft sand; and Wargraveheard her give a little sigh. Was it possible, he wondered, that thehusband of this charming woman did not appreciate her and herattractions as he ought?

  She went on with a change of manner:

  "When are you coming to call on me? I am a Duty Call, you know. Allofficers are supposed to leave cards on the Palace and the Residency."

  "The call on you will be a pleasure, I assure you, not a mere duty, Mrs.Norton," said the subaltern with a touch of earnestness. "May I cometo-morrow?"

  "Yes, please do. Come early for tea and bring your violin. It will bedelightful to have some music again. I have not opened my piano formonths; but I'll begin to practise to-night. I have one or two pieceswith violin _obligato_."

  So, chatting and at every step finding something fresh to like in eachother, they rode along down sandy lanes hemmed in by prickly aloehedges, by deep wells and creaking water-wheels where patient bullockstoiled in the sun to draw up the gushing water to irrigate the greenfields so reposeful to the eye after the glaring desert. They passed bythatched mud huts outside which naked brown babies sprawled in the dustand deer-eyed women turned the hand-querns that ground the flour fortheir household's evening meal. Stiff and sore though Wargrave was afterthese many hours of his first day in the saddle for so long, hethoroughly enjoyed his ride back with so attractive a companion.

  When they reached the Residency, a fine, airy building of white stonestanding in large, well-kept grounds, he felt quite reluctant to partwith her. But, declining her invitation to enter, he renewed his promiseto call on the following day and rode on to his bungalow.

  When he was alone he realised for the first time the effects of fatigue,thirst and the broiling heat of the afternoon sun. But Mrs. Norton wasmore in his thoughts than the exciting events of the day as he trottedpainfully on towards his bungalow.

  The house was closely shut and shuttered against the outside heat, andRaymond was asleep, enjoying a welcome _siesta_ after the early startand hard exercise. Wargrave entered his own bare and comfortlessbedroom, and with the help of his "boy"--as Indian body-servants aretermed--proceeded to undress. Then, attired in a big towel and slippers,he passed into the small, stone-paved apartment dignified with the titleof bathroom which opened off his bedroom.

  After his ablutions Wargrave lay down on his bed and slept for an houror two until awakened by Raymond's voice bidding him join him at tea.Strolling in pyjamas and slippers into the sitting-room which
theyshared the subaltern found his comrade lying lazily in a long chair andattired in the same cool costume. The outer doors and windows of thebungalow were still closed against the brooding heat outside. Inside thehouse the temperature was little cooler despite the _punkah_ whichdroned monotonously overhead.

  Over their tea the two young soldiers discussed the day's sport,recalling every incident of each run and kill, until the servants camein to throw open the doors and windows in hope of a faint breath ofevening coolness. The _punkah_ stopped, and the coolie who pulled itshuffled away.

  After tea Raymond took his companion to inspect the cantonment, whichWargrave had not yet seen, for he had not reached it until after duskthe previous day. It consisted only of the Mess, the Regimental Office,and about ten bungalows for the officers, single-storied brick orrubble-walled buildings, thatched or tiled. Some of them were unoccupiedand were tumbling in ruins. There was nothing else--not even the"general shop" usual in most small cantonments. Not a spool of thread,not a tin of sardines, could be purchased within a three days' journey.Most of the food supplies and almost everything else had to be broughtfrom Bombay. Around the bungalow the compounds were simply patches ofthe universal sands surrounded by mud walls. No flowers, no trees, noteven a blade of grass, relieved the dull monotony. Altogether thecantonment of Rohar was an unlovely and uninteresting place. Yet it isbut an example of many such stations in India, lonely andsoul-deadening, some of which have not even its saving grace of sport toenliven existence in them.

  After a visit to the Lines--the rows of single-storied detached brickbuildings, one to a company, that housed the native ranks of theregiment--where the Indian officers and sepoys (as native infantrysoldiers are called) rushed out to crowd round and welcome back theirpopular officer, Wargrave and Raymond strolled to the Mess. Here in theanteroom other British officers of the corps, tired out after the day'ssport, were lying in easy chairs, reading the three days' old Bombaynewspaper just arrived and the three weeks' old English journals untilit was time to return to their bungalows and dress for dinner.

  Early on the following afternoon Wargrave borrowed Raymond's bamboo cartand pony--for he had sold his own trap and horses before going on leaveto England and had not yet had time to buy new ones--and drove to theResidency. When he pulled up before the hall-door and in Anglo-Indianfashion shouted "Boy!" from his seat in the vehicle, a tall, statelyIndian servant in a long, gold-laced red coat reaching below the kneesand embroidered on the breast with the Imperial monogram in gold, cameout and held a small silver tray to him. Wargrave placed a couple of hisvisiting cards on it, and the gorgeous apparition (known as a_chuprassi_) retired into the building with them. While he was goneWargrave looked with pleasure at the brilliant flower-beds, green lawnand tall plants and bushes glowing with colour of the carefully-tendedand well-watered Residency garden, which contrasted strikingly with thedry, bare compounds of the cantonment.

  In a minute or two the _chuprassi_ returned and said:

  "Salaam!"

  Wargrave, hooking up the reins, climbed down from the trap, leavingRaymond's _syce_ in charge of the pony, and entered the gratefulcoolness of the lofty hall. Here another _chuprassi_ took his hat and,holding out a pen for him, indicated the red-bound Visitor's Book, inwhich he was to inscribe his name. Then one of the servants led the wayup the broad staircase into a large and well-furnished drawing-roomextending along the whole front of the building. Here Wargrave foundMrs. Norton awaiting him. She looked very lovely in a cool white dressof muslin--but muslin shaped by a master-hand of Paris. She welcomed himgaily and made him feel at once on the footing of an old friend.

  She was genuinely glad to see him again. To this young and attractivewoman, full of the joy of living, hardly more than a girl, yet marriedto a much older man, sober-minded, stolid and uncongenial to her, andburied in this dull and lonely station, Wargrave had appealed instantly.Youth calls to youth, and she hailed his advent into her monotonous lifeas a child greets the coming of a playfellow. With the other two ladiesin Rohar she had nothing in common. Both were middle-aged, serious andspiteful. To them her youth and beauty were an offence; and from thefirst day of their acquaintance with her they had disliked her. As forthe other officers of the regiment none of them attracted her; for, goodfellows as they were, none shared any of her tastes except her love ofsport. But in Wargrave she had already recognised a companion, aplaymate, one to whom music, art and poetry appealed as they did to her.

  On his side Frank, heart-whole but fond of the society of the oppositesex, was at once attracted by this charming member of it who had tastesakin to his own. Her beauty pleased his beauty-loving eye; and he wouldnot have been man if her readiness to meet him on a footing offriendship had not flattered him. He had thought that a great drawbackto life in Rohar would be the lack of feminine companionship; for theladies of his regiment were not at all congenial, although he did notdislike them. But it was delightful to find in this desert spot thispretty and cultured woman, who would have been deemed attractive inLondon and who appeared trebly so in a dull and lonely Indian station.He had thought much of her since their meeting on the previous day; andalthough it never occurred to him to lose his heart to her or evenattempt to flirt with her, yet he felt that her friendship wouldbrighten existence for him in Rohar. Nor did the thought strike himthat possibly he might come to mean more to Mrs. Norton than she to him.For, while he had his work, his duties, the goodfellowship of the Messand the friendship of his comrades to fill his life, she had nothing.She was utterly without interests, occupation or real companionship inRohar. Her husband and she had nothing in common. No child had comeduring the five years of their marriage to link them together. And inthis solitary place where there were no gaieties, no distractions suchas a young woman would naturally long for, she was lonely, very lonelyindeed.

  It was little wonder that she snatched eagerly at the promise of aninteresting friendship. Wargrave stood out and apart from the otherofficers of the regiment; and his companionship during the uncomfortableincident of the sandstorm bulked unaccountably large in her mind. Itseemed to denote that he was destined to introduce a new element intoher life.

  As they talked it was with increasing pleasure that she learnt they hadso many tastes in common. She found that he played the violin well andwas, moreover, the possessor of a voice tuneful and sympathetic, even ifnot perfectly trained. This made instant appeal to her and would havedisposed her to regard him with favour even if she had not been alreadyprepared to like him.

  The afternoon passed all too quickly for both of them. Violet Nortonhad never enjoyed any hours in Rohar so much as these; and when, as shesat at the piano while Frank played an _obligato_, a servant came toenquire if she wished her horse or a carriage got ready for her usualevening ride or drive, she impatiently ordered him out of the room. Whenthe time came for Wargrave to return to his bungalow to dress for dinnershe begged him to stay and dine with her.

  "I shall be all alone; and it would be a charitable act to take pity onmy solitude," she said. "My husband is dining at your Mess to-night."

  "Thank you very much for asking me," replied the subaltern. "I shouldhave loved to accept your invitation; but it is our Guest Night and theColonel likes all of us to be present at Mess on such evenings."

  "Oh, I forgot!" she exclaimed. "I ought to have remembered; for Mr.Raymond told me the same thing only last week when I invited himinformally. Well, you must come some other night soon."

  Reluctant to part with her new playmate she accompanied him to the doorand, to the scandal of the stately _chuprassis_, stood at it to watchhim drive away and to wave him a last goodbye as he looked back when thepony turned out of the gate.

  India is a land of lightning friendships between men and women.