"I'm your man. But," with a wry face, "what about the tiger-hunting?"
"Oh, we'll get that in. Sher Singh sent word this afternoon that he hoped I would show my forgiving disposition by deigning to allow him to provide me with a little sport, and I had his head shikari here just before you came. He said that owing to Sher Singh's prowess as a shot on his visits to his father-in-law, tigers are much rarer round here than I thought, and wanted me to go a day's journey to find a likely spot, but I told him he must produce one within a decent distance or be for ever disgraced. So it's a bandobast,[2] and the beast is to be forthcoming to-morrow or the day after."
The next day was spent in military operations, uncheered by any touch of sport, but on the second day after Charteris's arrival the shikari brought news of a tiger not unreasonably remote, and the two Englishmen stopped work early, and went off on the hunting-elephant, attended by the wild men from Darwan as beaters, lest they should quarrel with the Agpuris if they were left together. The tiger was duly killed, to the intense admiration—almost adoration—of the shikari, who entreated even with tears that the sahibs would allow him to guide them further, to the spot already mentioned to Gerrard, where, to judge from his description, tigers were popping in and out of a particular patch of jungle like rabbits. Charteris was strongly tempted, and urged that they could make the journey in the night by pressing the elephant a little, shoot a few tigers before breakfast, and return during the day, but Gerrard was firm. He did not intend to allow Sher Singh such an opportunity for tampering with the troops, innocent as he might seem to be of any desire to do so. They rode back, therefore, squabbling amicably as to whose bullet had really given the coup de grâce, and discussing whether the skin should be mounted as a rug or merely cured.
Their elephant was descending into the river-bed, and the walls and towers of Adamkot were dominating in dusky red the landscape to their right, when Gerrard uttered an exclamation, and pointed out a small body of mounted men surrounding an elephant, who were approaching their camp from the opposite side.
"From Agpur!" he said. "Who can be coming? A woman's howdah, too! Why, it looks to me like Bijli, the best hotty in the stables. I would have brought her with me if I hadn't known that the others couldn't keep pace with her. Bob, I'm afraid there's something up."
"You underrate your own importance, old boy. They can't do without you in the city, and the Rani has come in person to fetch you back."
"Oh, stop your chaff! No, but I daresay Kharrak Singh has insisted on coming, and she has sent him in a closed howdah, so as to be safer. He was uncommon set on coming with me. I wouldn't hear of it, but he may have teased her into giving her consent."
They entered the camp, and descended from their elephant in the space before their tents, just as the other elephant and its escort were challenged at the outskirts. Charteris and Gerrard both saw the curtains of the howdah put aside, and a head, apparently that of a woman, thrust forth. They could not hear what was said, but the newcomers were instantly allowed to pass, and staring soldiers began to gather and follow behind them. All eyes were turned on the two Englishmen as they went forward, but no one said anything, though it seemed to Gerrard that there was a feeling of awe in the air.
"It must be either the Rani or Kharrak Singh, for there are Amrodh Chand and the Rajputs," he murmured to Charteris. "And Rukn-ud-din in command of a scratch lot of guardsmen from all four troops! What is this, Komadan-ji?" he inquired of the officer.
"It is an order, sahib, but the mouth of this slave is shut," replied
Rukn-ud-din, wheeling his men apart to allow the elephant to advance.
It knelt down, and two or three zenana attendants, who had been riding
behind, came forward and helped a veiled female figure to descend.