“No,” he replied, “I don’t think so, although I may have met some of them in crossing the reservations. But I once went shooting with Grady, one of the managers of the show.”
“Better yet!” said Lord Frederic. “Do you think that he would come and bring some of them down?” he asked.
“I think he would,” said Mr. Carteret. He knew that the showman was strong in Grady—as well as the sportsman.
The Major rose to go to the billiard room. “I have one piece of advice to give you,” he said. “This prank is harmless enough, but establish a definite understanding with this fellow that you are not to be liable in damages for personal injuries which his Indians may receive. Explain to him that it is not child’s play and have him put it in writing.”
“You mean to have him execute a kind of release?” said Mr. Carteret.
“Precisely that,” said the Major. “I was once sued for twenty pounds by a groom that fell off my best horse and let him run away, and damme, the fellow recovered.” He bowed to the ladies and left the room.
“Of course we can fix all that up,” said Lord Frederic. “The old chap is a bit overcautious nowadays, but how can we get hold of this fellow Grady?”
“I’ll wire him at once, if you wish,” said Mr. Carteret, and he went to the writing table. “When do you want him to come down?” he asked, as he began to write.
“We might take them out with the Quorn on Saturday,” said Lord Frederic, “but the meet is rather far for us. Perhaps it would be better to have them on Thursday with Charley Ploversdale’s hounds.”
Mr. Carteret hesitated a moment. “Wouldn’t Ploversdale be apt to be fussy about experiments? He’s rather conservative, you know, about the way people are turned out. I saw him send a man home one day who was out without a hat. It was an American who was afraid that hats made his hair come out.”