"It is asleep, and quite warm, coach-wan. Proceed."
When they had left Lal Kooah two or three miles behind them, Ram Deen's keen eye caught the glimmer of a fire through the tall grass that came up to the edge of the road where it curved.
"We have found those ye seek, mem-sahib," said Ram Deen, bringing his horses to a stand-still.
Through the quiet night came the voice of a drunken woman singing a ribald barrack-room ditty interspersed with fiendish laughter and oaths:
"I'm the belle of the Naini Tal mall.
Houp la!
Not a colonel nor sub at the mess
But makes love when he can to sweet Sal.
To their wives do they dare to confess
That I'm belle of the Naini Tal mall?
Yes, I'm belle of the Naini Tal mall.
Houp la!"
Then the singer called aloud, "Captain! Captain Barfield!" But, getting no response, she beat a furious tattoo on the wooden panels of the carriage, shouting at the top of her voice, "Pretty sort of a jaunt to Moradabad this is! You're a liar, captain! But I'll tell your doll-faced wife how you treated her when her baby was only two weeks old." She then swore a round of torrid oaths, and wound up with a scream that might have been heard a mile off.
"Mem-sahib," said Ram Deen, "bide here with the hostler till I have tamed that she-devil, and then I will take thee to the captain sahib. The little one,—is it warm?"
"Quite warm, and still asleep, coach-wan. Go, and God advance thee!"
Ram Deen found the captain seated on a log in front of a blazing fire. With his elbows on his knees, the captain pressed a finger to each ear to escape the tirade of the terrible woman in the carriage. A touch on his shoulder made him start to his feet, and as he turned round Ram Deen salaamed gravely.
"I thought the sahib slept. No? Her speech galled thee," pointing to the carriage, "and thou wast fain not to hear it?"