"And would not listen to Brown and Co.,—that, I may tell you, was foolish."
"No, neither to them, or anyone."
"Ah, but you will listen to your past experience, and to me," and the weary old figure leant abruptly forward in its chair.
"I can't bear to be beaten, sir, but what do you advise?"
"As I've said—arrange for your return. In the meantime, make your head-quarters here; there is a good horse for you, Tom and Tara will take you out, and show you the country, and of an evening come and sit and talk to me—give me a week or two—as a great favour to an old fellow, who has not spoken to another red coat for thirty years."
Mallender hesitated a moment, then he said, "You are very kind, sir."
"Not a bit of it—only kind to myself. There is a new brown, stud-bred, up from Ussour, that will carry you well. This is an historical part of the world, although it looks so tame now—the children know every inch of it for miles. Tell me, are you interested in Indian history?"
"I can't say I am, sir, I know very little about it. Clive—Plassy—Warren Hastings—that's all."
"I was the same myself, till I was tied here by the leg, and had to take to books. I've read a lot—especially of those dealing with this country—its history begins with the invasion of Alexander, nearly three hundred years before Christ, then came the Moghul Empire, and the Cholas, they all made their way into these parts."
"Not much sign of them now, is there?"