"Treacherous black devils! I'd shoot 'em down like dogs--the lot of them," said Major Erlton savagely. He had slipped from his horse and now stood in the veranda overlooking the proof, his back to Jim Douglas. Perhaps it was the closer sight of his enemy's face which roused the latter's temper. Anyhow he broke into the conversation with that nameless challenge in his voice which makes a third person nervous.
"It is a pity you were not at Barrackpore. They seem to have been in need of a good pot-shot--even of an officer to be potted at--till Hearsey came to the front."
Captain Morecombe turned quickly to put up his sword as it were. "By the way, Erlton," he said hastily, "I don't think you know Douglas, though you tried to see him at Nujjufghur after he saved Mrs. Gissing from that snake."
But Jim Douglas' temper grew, partly at his own fatuity in risking the now inevitable encounter; and he had a vile, uncontrollable temper when he was in the wrong.
"Major Erlton and I have met before," he interrupted, turning to go; "but I doubt if he will recognize me. Possibly his horse may."
He paused as he spoke before the Arab which stood waiting. It whinnied instantly, stretching its head toward its old master. Major Erlton muttered a startled exclamation, but regained his self-possession instantly. "I beg your pardon--Mr.--er--Douglas, I think you said, Morecombe; but I did not recognize you."
The pause was aggressive to the last degree.
"Under that name, you mean," finished Jim Douglas, white with anger at being so obviously at a disadvantage. "The fact is, Captain Morecombe, that as the late King of Oude's trainer I called myself James Greyman. I sold that Arab to Major Erlton under that name, and under--well--rather peculiar circumstances. I am quite ready to tell them if Major Erlton thinks them likely to interest the general public."
His eyes met his enemy's, fiercely getting back now full measure of sheer, wild, vicious temper. Everything else had gone to the winds, and they would have been at each other's throats gladly; scarcely remembering the cause of quarrel, and forgetting it utterly with the first grip, as men will do to the end of time.
Then the Major, being less secure of his ground since fighting was out of the question, turned on his heel. "So far as I'm concerned," he said, "the explanation is sufficient. Give the devil his due and every man his chance."