"HER ONLY FAULT (AND THAT IS FAULTS ENOUGH)
IS, THAT SHE IS INTOLERABLY CURST,
AND SHREWD, AND FROWARD."—Taming of the Shrew, Act I., Scene 2.
TALL TALES OF SPORT AND ADVENTURE.
I.—THE PINK HIPPOPOTAMUS. (CONTINUED.)
Shortly after the great victory of the Dead Marshes, the British Army, under the command of Sir Bonamy Battlehorn, took possession of Balmuggur, the capital of the country, known far and wide as the Diamond City of the Ranee. There was a faint show of resistance, but after I had defeated in single combat six picked mollahs of the Royal Guard, the disheartened garrison laid down its arms, and the place surrendered at discretion. We had brought Hadju Thâr Meebhoy with us, although, in his perforated condition, it was a matter of some difficulty to transport him. Still it would have been barbarous to leave him behind to the tender mercies of the neighbouring peasantry, and we resolved to attempt his conveyance to Balmuggur. Fortunately we succeeded beyond our most sanguine hopes. I was able to render him some slight services on the march, and, after the city had fallen, I paid him daily visits, during which I conceived a sincere and lasting friendship for the gallant fellow whose only fault, after all, had been the notion that he could defeat one who has never yet given way an inch before the hottest attack even of overwhelming numbers. It was quite touching to see his swarthy face brighten into a smile when I entered the room. He looked forward eagerly to my daily visit, and often told me that the simple tales of my courage and daring with which I entertained him were of more use to him than all the ointments and bandages and medicines with which dear old Toby O'Grady used to treat his wound. On his side the Meebhoy, too, was confidential. Many an hour have I spent with him listening to his stories of court plot and palace intrigue in Balmuggur, dark episodes of passion and crime and sudden death.
