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Left wondering. And ye shall be as Gods! SCENE. Thymy grass-plot at back of the Mahasu dak-bungalow, overlooking little wooded valley. On the left, glimpse of the Dead Forest of Fagoo; on the right, Simla Hills. In background, line of the Snows. CAPTAIN GADSBY, now three weeks a husband, is smoking the pipe of peace on a rug in the sunshine. Banjo and tobacco-pouch on rug.
Overhead the Fagoo eagles. MRS. G. comes out of bungalow. MRS. G. My husband! Say that again. MRS. G. I've written to Mamma and told her that we shall be back on the 17th. CAPT. G. Did you give her my love? MRS. G. No, I kept all that for myself. How did you know that it was yours to keep? MRS. G. I guessed, Phil. MRS. G. I won't be called those sporting pet names, bad boy.
They then started off to Fagoo, the mare playing with the snaffle and picking her way as though she were shod with satin, and the sun shining divinely. The road below Mashobra to Fagoo is officially styled the Himalayan-Thibet road; but in spite of its name it is not much more than six feet wide in most places, and the drop into the valley below may be anything between one and two thousand feet.
'Now we're going to Thibet, said the Man's Wife merrily, as the horses drew near to Fagoo. She was riding on the cliff-side. 'Into Thibet, said the Tertium Quid, 'ever so far from people who say horrid things, and hubbies who write stupid letters. With you to the end of the world!
I don't think grave-digging is cheerful. The two talked and agreed that the Cemetery was depressing. They also arranged for a ride next day out from the Cemetery through the Mashobra Tunnel up to Fagoo and back, because all the world was going to a garden-party at Viceregal Lodge, and all the people of Mashobra would go too.
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