THE Brownes had left the sunset behind them red upon the heights when they reached Futtehpore, but there was still light enough for them to descry a white horse from afar, browsing in the compound, and they looked at each other in unaffected melancholy, saying, “They’re here.” If they wanted further evidence they had it in the person of the khansamah, who ran forth wagging his beard, and exclaiming that there was no room—how should there be any room for these Presences from without, when two Engineer-sahibs had already come! Among his other duties one Engineer-sahib had to report the shortcomings of this khansamah. Should it be written among them that the Engineer-sahib was rendered uncomfortable in his own house! Ah, that the Presence could be persuaded that there was another bungalow five miles further on, which the Presence knew perfectly well there was not.
“Khansamah,” replied young Browne, “two sahibs do not require four apartments and all the beds. Go and make it right; and, look you, bring a long chair for the memsahib that thy back be not smitten,” for by this time the heart of George Browne, of Macintyre and Macintyre’s, Calcutta, had waxed hot within him by reason of Royal Engineers.
The khansamah returned presently and announced that the Presences might have beds, but a long chair—here the khansamah held his back well behind him that it should not be smitten—he could not give, for the burra Engineer-sahib sat upon the one, and the chota Engineer-sahib sat upon the other. Yes, they could have something to eat, when the Engineer-sahibs had dined; but there would not be time to prepare it before—the Engineer-sahibs had commanded dinner in one hour. He would see if a fire was possible—it might be that the Engineer-sahibs required all the dry wood. It was presently obvious that they did, and as young Browne and Kasi struggled unavailingly with an armful of green sari and a year-old copy of the Overland Mail, that gentleman might have been overheard to remark roundly in the smoke and the gloom, “Damn the Engineer-sahibs!”
Next morning the white horse was still in the stable when young Browne stepped out upon the veranda, and the Royal Engineer stood there smoking with his hands in his pockets, his legs describing a Royal Engineering angle. He said “Morning!” with a certain affability to young Browne, who made a lukewarm response.
“Think of getting on to-day?” inquired the R. E.
“Oh, yes,” Mr. Browne replied. “We must. We’re due at Saharanpore Friday.”
“Aw! same with us. Bagshiabag to-day, Kalsia to-morrow, Saharanpore Friday.”
“Exactly our programme,” said young Browne with firmness.
“Aw! Hown’ for’tchnit!”
“Is it?”