CHAPTER VII
DIGGING DEEP.
At sunset Mr. Hartley and Robin unexpectedly returned to Talwandi, the strength of the former having proved unequal to the fatigues of camp-life. The old missionary had hardly been able to keep the saddle.
“Why, Alicia, you must have been ill! what have you been doing while we were away?” was Robins first exclamation, as he took the hand of his sister and looked with affectionate concern at her pale face and drooping appearance.
“Alicia has been a little imprudent,” said Harold.
“And has paid dearly for her imprudence,” added Alicia with a rather forced smile.
Then followed the story of the invasion of the white ants, and an account of the means taken to prevent its repetition.
“Tar is not enough to keep out the dimaks,” said Robin; “they are the most persevering little workers in the world. Hunt them from one corner, and presently you see their brown tunnels in another; chase them from the floor, and they are up in the beams. There is no weapon for fighting the white ants to be compared to a good stout spade. I’ll take mine, and go out early to-morrow morning, and see if I cannot find the trace of a colony somewhere near. If I do, then will come the work of sapping and mining. We must follow the enemy to his underground fort, and if possible capture his queen.”
“I never saw white ants in Lahore,” said Alicia.
“They have rural tastes like myself: they prefer country to town, like those gentry whose music now breaks on the ear.”