"Very much," said Hector, lying back in his chair and lighting another cigarette.
"It's hardly the subject for a picnic lunch, my dear," said the Resident, rather annoyed at being shown off in this manner, "and I'm sure it wouldn't interest our guests."
"Indeed, Sir Reginald, it would," answered Lucy, dealing a surreptitious kick at her husband's foot, at which with a low growl he opened his closing eyes.
"Some mullah fellow been stirring 'em up, hasn't he, Sir Reginald?" he observed sleepily.
"The Hadda Mullah," said the Resident briefly, "trying to proclaim a religious war. Jehad, they call it. Don't think he will, all the same, for the Afridis have no religion to speak of. They'll be a hard nut to crack, if they do rise; but let's be off, it's time we were at those bears again. Wait a minute, though," he added, suddenly rising and hurrying out of the tent; "there's a man I want to see before we start. You stay here," looking hard at his wife, "amuse our guests till I return, Sarah. I won't be a minute."
"Now then, what is it?" he said sharply to a blue-clad native, with a leather belt round his waist, whose approach he had observed through the open door of the tent. "Letter for me? Hum, I was afraid of it, a wire too for Graeme sahib. Damn, but it's bad luck on her. All right, here's the sahib coming out now. You can give him the wire—not now, you fool, wait for three minutes."
"Oh, Mrs. Graeme, come over here and have a look at my bear, fine chap, isn't he? I'll have him skinned for you if you like; he'll make rather a good carriage-rug."
"It's awfully kind of you, Sir Reginald, but I couldn't think ... Why, what on earth's the matter with my husband? He seems very angry. Good—good heavens, what's that in his hand? It's, heavens, it's a telegram. Oh, Hector, what is it?"
"Only a recall, Lucy, that's all, an order to return, from that old fool Schofield. But I won't go. I'll see him damned first, by the Lord I will! I'm here on leave, and here I'll stay. You see now what comes of being in the Service, always at the beck and call of some jumpy idiot of a C.O."
"But—but why, Hector, what for?"