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Updated: June 29, 2025
Each mahout carried a gun, one a heavy rifle, the other a double-barrelled fowling-piece, which they offered to Wargrave. "Huzoor!" "Oh, the Political Officer. Very kind of him, I'm sure," remarked the subaltern. "What is his name?" "Durro-Mut Sahib." "What a curious name!" thought Frank. For in the vernacular "durro mut!" means, "Do not be afraid!" He concluded that it was a nickname.
The ladies and the other officers of your regiment are Philistines. Ragtime is more in their line than Grieg or Brahms. And the other day Captain Ross asked me if 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 our band play Wagner all one night during Mess.
"About thirty-four inches high, I think. But the tusks are 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 first inflicts a wound on the boar. "Better luck next time, Mr. Wargrave," said Mrs. Norton, riding up to him. "I thought you were sure of him when he jinked away from the Maharajah."
Wargrave found himself beside Mrs. Norton; but, after exchanging a few words, he forgot her presence as, his heart beating fast with a true sportsman's excitement, he strained his eyes for the first sight of a wild boar.
And then to be chained for life to a woman you don't care about while you're in love with another. Oh, Mr. Wargrave, do be sensible. Tell her the truth. Tell her you can't go on with it." "I've given her my word," he said simply. She pleaded with him passionately, but to no avail. At last, as Muriel entered the room, she rose, saying: "Tell her. I'll not mention the subject again."
Muriel Benson had left the station ten days ago to rejoin her father; and Wargrave had instantly felt that he dared not see her again until he was irrevocably and openly bound to Violet.
Wargrave was gazing intently at her as in a voice full of feeling and pathos, a voice with a plaintive little tone in it that thrilled him strangely, she sang that haunting melody "The Love Song of Har Dyal."
They had got within a mile of it and were close to the foot of the hills when Badshah stopped suddenly and smelt the ground. Colonel Dermot leaned over the huge head and stared down intently at something invisible to his young companion. "What is it, sir?" asked Wargrave in a whisper. "Bison. Badshah's pointing for us.
Then he and his Chinese companion took their leave, and with their followers passed up the hilly road. Wargrave, gazing after them, came to the conclusion that of the pair he preferred the savage to the ultra-cultivated Celestial. Having thanked the Colonel for permitting him to be present at the interview, which had interested him greatly, the subaltern was about to leave when Mrs.
After his ablutions Wargrave lay down on his bed and slept for an hour or two until awakened by Raymond's voice bidding him join him at tea. Strolling in pyjamas and slippers into the sitting-room which they shared the subaltern found his comrade lying lazily in a long chair and attired in the same cool costume.
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