Colonel Tallboys was anxious to secure a congenial occupation for his elusive guest, and Captain Byng, in this hard-hitting player, saw visions of victory instead of defeat. At least he was now assured of making a strong fight against the Chokras from Ooty and the famous Marauders from Bangalore.
Within three minutes the matter had been decided; Mallender's objections were offered to deaf ears; the question of ponies, practice, and, if it came to that, kit, was disposed of with almost contemptible ease!
"I'll expect you out at Guindy to practice to-morrow at six-thirty sharp," was Byng's authoritative announcement; "you shall try some jolly good ponies, Malabar and Chutney and Cossack—eh, Colonel? What's your weight?"
"Eleven stone—I'm afraid I put up something on board ship."
"Oh, you'll be all right; we have a nice ground in topping order, and our men are as keen as mustard. I," drawing a long breath, "breathe again."
Byng's enthusiasm proved infectious; Mallender, a lover of the game, soon threw himself into the subject with the zest and simplicity of a schoolboy, and listened with the profoundest interest to all particulars concerning the five competing teams.
"With a week's hard practice I might be useful," he admitted, "anyway, I'll do my very best. I suppose you play eight minutes a chukker?"
Colonel Tallboys, who had been a silent and attentive looker-on, now interposed.
"I say, Byng, I'll leave Mallender in your hands for racquets, billiards, and talk. I've got a heap of work to do, very important letters, and must get back to the office at once. Geoffrey, I'll call here for you at half-past five—or six. Keep your eye on him, Byng!" he added with a laugh as he hurried out of the smoking-room.
"Your cousin?" said Byng, as he offered a box of Trichis.