“But you mustn’t go. You needn’t. Look here – You’re not to.”
“That sounds rather nice – Very nice indeed. And wherefore am I not to go, Nessita, mine angel?”
“Because I don’t want you to. You’re rather a joke, you know, and – ”
” – And – what?”
“Nothing.”
“That ought to settle it. Only I don’t flatter myself my departure will leave any gap. Remaineth there not a large garrison at Shâlalai – horse, foot, and artillery?”
“Oh, hang the garrison at Shâlalai! You’re detestable. I don’t like you any more.”
“No? Well what will make you like me any more?”
“If you stay.”
“That settles it. I cannot depart in the face of that condition,” he answered, the gravity of his words and tone simply belied by a whimsical twinkle of the eyes. She, looking up, saw this.
“Ah, I believe you’ve been cramming all the time. I’ll ask Mr Upward when we get in, and if you have, I’ll never forgive you.”
“Spare thyself the trouble O petulant one, for it would be futile in any case. If I have been telling nasty horrid wicked little taradiddles, Upward won’t give me away, for I shall tip him the masonic wink not to. You won’t spot it, though you are staring us both in the face all the time. So you’ll have to keep your blind faith in me, anyhow. Hallo! Stay still a minute. There are some birds.”
In and out among the grass and stones, running like barn-door fowl was a large covey. This time a whoop and a handful of gravel from Bhallu Khan was effective. The covey rose with a jarring “whirr” as one bird. A double shot – a bird fell to each.
“Right and left. That’s satisfactory. I’m getting my hand in,” remarked Campian. “They’re right away,” looking after the covey, “and I feel like breakfast time. Glad we are almost back.”
The white tents half-hidden in the apricot tope, and sheltered by the fresh and budding green, looked picturesque enough against a background of rugged and stony mountain ridge, the black vertical jaws of the tangi, now waterless, yawning grim like the jaws of some silent waiting monster. Native servants in their snowy puggarees, flitted to and fro between the camp and the cook-tent, whence a wreath of blue smoke floated skyward. A string of camels had just come in, and were kneeling to have their loads removed, keeping up the while their hoarse snarling roar, each hideous antediluvian head turning craftily on its weird neck as though watching the chance of getting in a bite. But between them and their owners, three or four wild looking Baluchis – long-haired and turban-crowned – the understanding, whether of love or fear, seemed complete, for these went about their work of unloading, the normal expression of impassive melancholy stamped upon their copper-hued countenances undergoing no change.
“Well, how many did you shoot?” cried Hazel, running out from the tents as the two came in. “Only six!” as Bhallu Khan held up the “bag.” “Pho! Why we heard about twenty shots. Didn’t we, Lily?”
“More. I expect they were thinking of you when they named this place,” said the latter.
“Thought something cheeky was coming,” remarked Campian tranquilly. “The ‘cow-catcher’ adorning thy most speaking countenance, Lilian my cherub, has an extra upward tendency this morning. No pun intended, of course.”
“Oh – oh – oh!” A very hoot was all the expression that greeted this disclaimer. But a sudden summons to breakfast cut short further sparring.
“Upward, what’s the meaning of Chirria Bach?” asked Campian when they were seated. Lily and Hazel clapped their hands and cackled. Upward looked up, with a laugh.
“It means ‘miss a bird’ old chap. Didn’t you know?”
“No. I never thought of it. Very good, Lilian my seraph. Now I see the point of that extra smart remark just now. What do you think, Mrs Upward? she said this place must have been named after me.”
“They’re very rude children, both of them,” was the laughing reply. “But I can’t sympathise. I’m afraid you make them worse.”
A wild crow went up from the two delinquents. Campian shook his head gravely.
“After that we had better change the subject,” he said. “By the way, Upward, old Bhallu Khan went through an extraordinary performance this morning. I want you to tell me the interpretation thereof.”
“Was he saying his prayers? Have another chikór, old chap?”
“No – not his prayers. Thanks, I will. They eat rather better than they shoot. Nesta and I were deep in the discussion of scientific and other matters – ”
“Oh, yes.”
This from Lily, meaningly.
“Lilian, dearest. If you can tell the story better than I can” – with grave reproach.
“Never mind – go on – go on” – rapped out the delinquent.
” – In the discussion of scientific and other matters,” resumed Campian, eyeing his former interruptor, “when Bhallu Khan suddenly enjoined silence. He then put his fingers to his head – so – and mysteriously pointed towards the nullah. It dawned on me that he meant something with horns; but I knew there couldn’t be gadh or markhôr right down here in the valley, and close to the camp. Then Nesta came to the rescue by suggesting that he must have seen the devil.”
“Ah, I didn’t suggest it!” cried Nesta. But her disclaimer was drowned in a wild yelp of ecstasy that volleyed forth from the two younger girls; in the course of which Hazel managed to swallow her tea the wrong way, and spent the next ten minutes choking and spluttering.
Upward was shaking in quiet mirth.
“He didn’t mean the devil at all, old chap, only a hare,” he explained.
“A hare?” uttered Campian.
The blankness of his amazement started the two off again.
“Only a hare! Good heavens! But a hare, even in Baluchistan, hasn’t got horns.”
“He meant its ears. Come now, it was rather smart of him – wasn’t it? Old Bhallu Khan is smart all round. He buks a heap, and is an old bore at times, but he’s smart enough.”
“Yes. It was smart. Yet the combined intelligence of Nesta and myself couldn’t get beyond the devil.”
“Speak for yourself then,” she laughed. And just then Tinkles, rushing from under the table, darted forth outside, uttering a succession of fierce and fiery barks.
“I expect it’s those two Johnnies arriving,” said Upward, rising. “Yes, it is,” as he lifted the “chick” and looked outside.
They all went forth. Two horsemen were turning off the road and making for the camp.
Chapter Five.
Concerning Two Fools
“Major Bracebrydge – Captain Fleming” – introduced Upward. The first lifted his hat punctiliously to Campian, the second put out his hand. To the rest of the party both were already known.
“Well – ar – Upward – lots of chikór, eh?” began the first.
“Swarms. But they’ve become beastly wild. Campian has been harrying them ever since we found him one dark night half in half out of the nullah in flood.”
“Oh, yes; we heard something of that I suppose – ar – Mr Campian – it wasn’t one magnified by half-a-dozen – ah, ha – ha. You were travelling after dinner, you know – ah – ha – ha?”
A certain amount of chaff in fair good fellowship Campian didn’t mind. But the element of bonhomie