The tomtoms and trumpets struck up with a sudden blare as the horses were led forward.
Oliver squeezed Rattam's hand as he whispered his last question, "When will the shikaree get back?"
"I shall send him to you," answered Rattam; and they parted.
Mrs. Desborough and the children were already in their dandies, crossing the bridge, as the horses cantered out of the castle gate sniffing the cool hill breezes.
"In pity, free me from this rubbish, boy," sighed the deputy, turning to his nephew; when he beheld ten coolies running behind them, carrying between them jars of sweetmeats slung upon bamboos—a parting gift from the Rana.
"Uncle," said Oliver in a low voice, "I have something to tell you."
Whilst Mr. Desborough shunted wreath after wreath into his wife's lap, shaking himself after each surrender like a dog emerging from the water, Oliver was explaining to his uncle about Rattam and the shikaree.
Horace was fast asleep, and Kathleen's eyes were blinking, when they reached the bungalow.
"Cheer up, little woman!" whispered Oliver, as he bade her good-night; "Master Gravity, in his saffron satin, is going to find out what his fellows have really seen."
"You shall have my bird!" she exclaimed in her rush of gratitude.