THE PANTHER'S SECOND VICTIM
The expedition down to the Holikul jungle, proved a triumphant success, not only in the matter of sport, but of well-chosen and congenial company; Nancy, far from being an encumbrance, largely contributed to the comfort of the party.
The little camp was surprisingly well found; ice never failed, a tablecloth and brilliant tropical flowers, gave a touch of civilization to the alfresco meals, and after a long arduous beat among sweltering undergrowth, it was agreeable and refreshing, to sit out in the starlight, whilst Nancy and Nicky Byng sang solos and duets, the servants squatted round at a respectful distance, and Togo kept solitary ward.
Nancy proved to be well versed in forest lore. What she had picked up as a small child, when accompanying her father on various shooting expeditions, had never faded from a mind which held all impressions with tenacity. She knew the names of strange trees, and gorgeous flowering shrubs, and could relate, stirring legends and fabulous tales of the mysterious white tiger.
In her own line, Miss Travers proved as successful a hostess, as her great example at Clouds Rest, and in spite of her ingenuous girlhood,—had a way of mothering, and managing, the entire circle. There was not a spark of coquetry in her composition. She chatted to Ted and Nicky, precisely as if she were their pal and comrade, and it was evident to Mayne, that the "Corner boys," no less than Travers himself, worshipped the sole of this wood elf's small brown shoe!
Her birthday was an auspicious occasion. The house-servants, and head shikari, offered bouquets and wreaths; "The Corner" presented a tennis bat, and Mayne had surreptitiously placed a little parcel upon Nancy's plate. As she opened the blue velvet case, and beheld its contents, she gave a scream of delighted surprise.
"Oh, Daddy, how dare you? you wicked man!" she cried; "it's far too beautiful for me. I've always longed for a wristlet watch,—but never a gold one like this—why, it's prettier than Finchie's," and she rose to embrace him.
"Here is the wicked man," he protested, pointing to Mayne; "my present has not arrived, but I expect it is waiting for you up at Fairplains."
"Captain Mayne," she exclaimed, with dancing eyes, "how ever so much too kind of you! I declare I'd like to kiss you. May I, Daddy?" glancing at him interrogatively.
Mayne looked at him expectantly, and stood up, prepared to accept this astonishing favour.
"My dear child," said Travers, "you are eighteen to-day, and must not go thrusting your kisses on young men."
"But I never did before," she protested.
"You should keep your first kiss for someone, who may come along one day!"
"Oh, Daddy," she murmured, blushing deeply through her tan, "now you have made me feel so shy, and uncomfortable. You all know," appealing to Ted and Nicky, "that I only wanted to do something, just to show Captain Mayne, how delighted I was—and am."
"You can do that in another way, Nancy," he replied, resuming his seat. "Call me by my Christian name—the same as these fellows."
"Derek—yes—and it's much prettier than Ted, or Nicky."
"So now, Mayne," said Nicky, "you are paid off handsomely, and at our expense."
It was a merry, not to say noisy breakfast party; Nancy with two long white wreaths round her neck (in a third she had invested her father), the wristlet watch on her mahogany wrist, was in the wildest spirits.
"I woke this morning very early," she said; "almost before the birds, not because I was expecting presents in my stocking,—like at Christmas time, but because I was going to be eighteen, and I seemed to hear the bamboos—you all know how they whisper—murmuring to one another, 'Eighteen, eighteen, eighteen!'"
"Eighteen, will have to take to gloves and corsets," said Nicky, as he fumbled for his pipe.
"Fancy mentioning such an article in the free-as-air jungle," protested Nancy; "and anyway, my waist is only twenty inches."
"Nancy, spare us these particulars," protested her father. "One would think you were among a pack of women."
"Never mind him, Nancy," said Byng. "Tell him it's too late to start to keep you in bounds—and as for waists—Ted's is fifty."
"Daddy, I do wonder what you have got for me," she asked abruptly. "Won't you tell me?"
"I know," said Mayne; "it's awfully nice, you'll like it better than anything—and it's coming all the way from London."
"Then it must have cost a heap of money," she exclaimed. "Oh, Daddy!"
"Oh, Nancy," he echoed, "it's time we made a start; the shikaris are hanging about, so don't let us waste any more time," and he rose, and broke up the party.
Those three days in the Holikul jungles were a delightful, and flawless memory, to all concerned. How rarely can mortals say this! Sunburnt and weary, the Fairplains party returned to the shelter of a roof, and a daily delivery of letters, and parcels. The habit had arrived—moreover, it fitted.
Two evenings later, Travers and Mayne, Nancy and the head shikari, had been for a short, perfunctory beat, round the base of the hill on which the bungalow was situated. They were homeward bound, the bag, a mere peacock. Mayne and his host were a little in advance of Nancy, and last came the shikari, carrying the peacock, and Travers' gun.
"This day week," said Mayne, "I shall be on my way——"
As he was speaking, they turned an abrupt corner, and there, within forty yards, on a slab of rock, lay a sleek panther, and her two fat cubs! As she sprang erect, Mayne ran forward, and fired. But slightly wounded, she instantly leapt at him, and with such headlong ferocity, and impetus, that the weight of her body knocked him down, and sent his gun flying. Without a second's hesitation, Travers, armed with only a stick, rushed to where the savage brute was worrying her prostrate victim, and with all his might, hit her a smashing blow across the nose. Turning on him, with a furious snarl, she seized him by the forearm, but before she could do more, Tipoo ran up, and shot her through the head. She fell back, and after a few kicks, and one convulsive quiver, rolled over stone dead.
The whole scene had taken place within less than the space of two minutes. Nancy at first had stood by, a horrified, and paralysed spectator, but when the panther attacked her father,—she ran forward, and struck at it frantically, with her stick.
And now to take stock of the casualties! Mayne, thanks to a heavy shooting coat, had merely a few bruises, and scratches—nothing to speak of,—in short a miraculous escape. Travers also, had got off with a scratch on his neck, and a bite on his forearm. The latter might have been worse,—but his coat had also saved him.
"Sam's leopard—and you nearly got him!" he said to Mayne. "You fired a bit too soon, my boy."
"I believe I did—I was so keen to get the brute before she bolted,—I'm most awfully sorry."
"Oh, it's all right," replied Travers. "I'm well used to these scraps—she's a fine size."
"Never mind the panther, Dad," interposed Nancy, "but come along at once and have your arm dressed, and Captain Mayne too," and she ran on before them towards the bungalow, to collect, and prepare remedies.
Nancy had learned "First Aid," and was accustomed to doctor the household and coolies; she dressed the wounds, and scratches with prompt and skilful fingers, forbade all stimulants, and commanded her patients to rest till dinner-time. This was by no means the first time that Travers had been in a "hand to claw" combat, with a wild beast, but to Mayne, it was a novel experience, and he felt not a little shaken, and excited. It is not a pleasant sensation to have a heavy, evil-smelling wild animal, on the top of you, and murderous yellow fangs within six inches of your throat.
The following morning, the two patients described themselves as "quite fit." Travers with his arm in a sling, went about his everyday business, and Mayne commenced to make arrangements for his impending departure. That evening Travers appeared to be fatigued, his eyes were unusually bright, and Nancy's smiling face, wore an anxious expression.
"Dad, I'd like to send for Dr. Hicks, to have a look at your arm," she said, as they sat in the verandah after dinner.
"Certainly not, Nancy," he replied testily; "you have done everything that is necessary. I daresay I have brought a touch of fever from Holikul. That's all that ails me. The bite is nothing. Now look here, little girl, I won't have you worry."
As his tone was authoritative, Nancy, whatever she may have thought, said nothing further.
The next day Travers made a very early start, and did not return,—as was often the case,—in time for breakfast; and Nancy and Mayne were tête-à-tête.
"Father is so hardy and wiry, and so used to jungle accidents," she remarked, "he won't ever allow me to look after him properly. On Tuesday, only for him and his stick," she paused and glanced expressively at Mayne.
"Yes, by Jove! the panther would have had me! There's no doubt your father saved my life. That brute was making for my throat. I saw her yellow eyes glaring into mine, she had her claws dug into my shoulders, and, Lord, how her breath smelt! Yes, for once, I was face to face with death; and I'd be dead and buried now—only for that swinging stroke across her muzzle."
"The cubs made her savage," said Nancy. "Tipoo has shot them both—such well-fed, fat, little creatures. All the family skins are now being dried. Only for those cubs, the panther would never have faced you—they are such slinking, treacherous cowards."
"And only for your father, I'd not be sitting here."
"And how dreadful for your poor mother, if anything had happened to you! If I were to die, it would almost kill Daddy."
Mayne made no reply. Mentally, he was comparing his mother, with her father. Nancy looked as if she would still be flourishing at the end of half a century, but if anything were, as she expressed it, "to happen to her," it was quite possible, that Travers would go clean off his head.
Travers returned at tea-time; as he stumbled into the verandah, and sank exhausted into a chair, he looked completely "done."
"Ah, I see you have been down to the lower ground," said Nancy. "Now that was really too bad of you,—when you have a touch of fever."
As she handed him his cup she added:
"Let me feel your hand—why, it's almost red-hot!"
"My dear child, don't make a fuss," he exclaimed irritably; "I'll take a dose of quinine, and lie down till dinner-time,—will that please you?"
Nancy said no more, but shut her lips tightly, and began to prepare his special buttered toast.
"I can't touch anything," he protested, "but I've an awful thirst on," and he swallowed greedily, one after the other, two large cups of tea.
"I'm afraid I must worry you, dear Daddy, and dress your arm," she urged. "I promise I'll be as quick as I can," and she led him away to his own room. Presently she returned, and said to Mayne, who was still sitting in the verandah: "I want you to ride over at once, and ask Dr. Hicks to drop in this evening,—quite casually, of course. I simply dare not tell Daddy I've sent for him; he always pooh-poohs doctors, and illnesses, and he won't allow me to take his temperature, nor will he go to bed. His arm has a queer, livid appearance, and is terribly swollen; I must say, I cannot help feeling rather nervous."
"Oh, all right," said Mayne, rising; "I'll be off at once, and I'll bring Hicks back with me,—dead or alive."
When Mayne arrived at Panora, Dr. Hicks happened to be out, and it was nine o'clock when the two men reached Fairplains. By this time Travers, who now admitted that he was "feeling a bit out of sorts," was obviously worse.
As they rode over, Mayne had given the doctor full particulars, about the panther affair,—including the bites, and scratches.
"There may be poison in them," said Dr. Hicks; "these old panthers eat garbage, and putrid carcases, and are nasty brutes to deal with; and if septic poison sets in, Travers is rather a bad subject, and it may go hard with him. However," he added philosophically, "there is no use meeting trouble half way, and whatever happens, we must keep a cheerful face before Nancy. There's a good, single-hearted child, if ever there was one, and if by any chance, she were to lose her father—mind you, I'm not saying there is a chance—I don't know what would become of her!"