"What's a khakur?" asked Frank.
"It's the muntjac or barking deer," replied Dermot. "You wouldn't know it if you haven't shot in forests. It gets its English name from its call, which is not unlike a dog's bark."
"Whin ye hear one saying 'Wonk! Wonk!' in the jungle, Wargrave, get up the nearest tree; for the khakur is warning all whom it may concern that there's a tiger in the immajit vicinity."
Frank had already learned to distrust most of Burke's statements on sport, for the doctor was an inveterate joker. So he looked to the Political Officer for confirmation.
"Yes, it's supposed to be the case," agreed the Colonel. "And I've more than once heard a tiger loudly express his annoyance when a khakur barked as he was trying to sneak by unnoticed. There's a barking-deer." He pointed to the well-mounted head of a small deer on the wall of the dining-room.
"Whom do you expect up for the Durbar, Mrs. Dermot?" asked Major Hunt.
"Only Mr. Carter, the Sub-divisional Officer, and probably Mr. Benson."
"Eh—is—isn't Miss Benson coming too?" asked the doctor in a hesitating manner so unlike his usual cheery and assured self that Frank looked at him. It seemed to him that Burke was blushing.
"Oh, yes, I hope so," replied Mrs. Dermot.
"Er—haven't you heard from her?" persisted the doctor anxiously.