scraps of comfort in the shape of assurances that there was nothing to be frightened at; no fear at all, the risk a mere imagination of hers; no danger in the expedition-in fact, perfect safety, greater safety even than staying at home!

So things progressed until the sun went down and night came suddenly on-in those regions there is little or no twilight--and found the multifarious preparations not finished. Then rude lights and torches were brought, the natives lit fires all over the compound, and began to sing those dreary, wailing, monotonous songs, that you must hear before you can ever realise; and, at last, after a final immense effort, and the use of volleys of bad language, the chief shikarhee came up, made his salaam, and announced that all was ready to start. Then the bullocks were hitched to the waggons, and 'prodded' slowly out on to the dusty track, through which they had to drag their heavy loads for miles before they could rest; the natives put out their pipes, and went off as a guard to the baggage; the camels, after loud groans of remonstrance, were got on their legs, and stalked out of the compound with their piled-up loads, like some fearful but noiseless ghosts in the soft pale moonlight; and soon all were gone, and the scene of so much recent scrambling confusion was left silent, and comparatively deserted.

'Phew!' whistled the Major, as he came up into

the verandah; 'what a job it is to get those fellows under way! Well, Jack, my man, what do you say to bed? We start two hours before gun-fire, you know, in the morning.'

Mrs. Hawkins, after the Mullers had gone, kissed her son in the shade of the verandah very warmly that night, and if the tears did come in her eyes, was it not only natural? and would not your own dear mother do the same if you, my fine fellow, were going off on a tiger-hunt the next day?

CHAPTER III.

IN THE SADDLE.

1

'SAHIB! sahib! outhao! outhao, sahib! outhao; Major Sahib tyar hye!' A gentle touch on the shoulder; then a slight shake; a light waved to and fro in front of his closed eyes; an indistinct idea that something had dreamily happened, but that it was not worth while troubling about; then a half hazy notion that he must arouse, but would much rather not; a more awakening thought that there was some imperative duty to be done; then a sudden sense of the necessity for action; a vivid remembrance of the circumstances of the previous

1 Rouse up, sir; rouse up-the Major is ready.'

day—and Jack Hawkins bounded up from his charpoy, or native bedstead, nearly knocking over his personal attendant in his eagerness. It was ' pitch dark and fearfully cold. (And here Captain Fred must inform you that it is a great mistake to suppose that it is always hot in India. In the winter in Rajpootana the temperature is usually intensely chilly at nights, and the frost-yes, actual frost-so severe, that ice is gathered from shallow earthen pans in sufficient quantities to be worth preserving in pits until it can be thoroughly enjoyed in the fierce heats of the hot season.) And you will now understand how it was that Jack felt the cold so much when he sprang out of bed that morning, and why he eagerly drank up, and felt very thankful for, the great jorum of boiling coffee that his boy Duberee brought to him. Poor Duberee shivered and shook, like one in an ague fit, from the bitter cold of the night; for, of course, being only clothed in his everyday white cotton garments of the very flimsiest make, he suffered far more from it than any Englishman would. Jack did not as yet know much of the native customs or language, though he was picking the latter up fast, nor had he as yet got into the neglectful and often heartless demeanour which Europeans too frequently display towards their native attendants, so that he did not at all think it beneath him to offer Duberee some of the

hot coffee in such words as he could command. Duberee, however, though looking grateful for that very unusual and quite unexpected consideration from his young master, only grinned, as well as the chattering of his teeth would allow, while he answered, 'Native man not drink sahib coffee;" by which he meant, though Jack did not understand it, that his caste would not allow him even to touch with his lips anything that a kafir or feringhee (for those are the terms natives generally use when describing amongst themselves Englishman) had partaken of. Jack had no time to argue the point, for he heard his father bustling about in the large rooms of the bungalow; so he hastened to get on his clothes as rapidly as he could with the ready assistance of Duberee, and was soon all equipped; and, with the Major, anxiously looking out for the Mullers, who were to join them there, and then all start in company together.

an

Major Hawkins was rather in a bit of a temper -himself the most punctual of men, particularly when he had any duty to perform or appointment to keep, he resented being kept waiting by others, and on this occasion gave vent to his opinions on the subject with no little warmth.

'Just like Muller,' he said; always late for everything-never saw such a fellow! I say, Jack, is that precious son of his a good hand at getting up?'

Jack confessed that he was not; in fact, that he was quite the contrary, and often missed a proposed excursion or pleasure which he had eagerly looked forward to, rather than take the trouble to rise in time, or show a little energy in making the necessary preparations.

'Like father, like son. Never knew Muller, though he is a soldier and a good sportsman, to be able to get over that confounded want of energy he is blessed with,' the Major muttered; and then went on aloud, 'Hie! Duberee, there! Butler, send somebody to ask if Captain Muller is coming; give my salaam.'

But just then the two were seen rounding a \ corner of the road at a smart trot; dismounted for a cup of coffee and a mouthful to eat before starting; then the Major and Muller lit cheroots, and the party set off at a hand gallop down through the sleeping cantonment, and out into the open country, on the sandy track that would take them, for some distance at least, in the direction of Rajpeepla. They were well free of all traces of civilisation, if, indeed, there are any such traces in an Indian camp, by the time the morning-gun was heard booming heavy and sullenly from the station they had left, and by sunrise they found themselves in a wild, jungly desert, exhibiting no signs whatever of human occupation. Major Hawkins and the Captain were leading the way,