The Ruby Sword: A Romance of Baluchistan. Mitford Bertram
that’s the grievance, is it?” he said. “And what about the others who are – not nice?”
“Oh, I just fool them. Some of them think they’re fooling me. I let it go far enough, and then they suddenly find out I’ve been fooling them. It’s rather a joke.”
“Ever taken anyone seriously?”
“That’s telling.”
“All right, then. Don’t tell.”
She looked up at him quickly. Her eyes seemed to be trying to read his face, which, beyond a slightly amused elevation of one eyebrow, was absolutely expressionless.
“Well, I have then,” she said, with a half laugh.
“So? Tell us all about it, Nessita.”
She looked up quickly – “I say, that’s rather a good name – I like it. It sounds pretty. No one ever called me that before.”
“Accept it from me, then.”
“Yes, I will. But, do you know – it’s awful cheek of you to call me by my name at all. When did you first begin doing it, by the way?”
“Don’t know. I suppose it came so natural as not to mark an epoch. Couldn’t locate the exact day or hour to save my life. Shall I return to ‘Miss Cheriton?’”
“You never did say that. You never called me anything – until – ”
“Likely. It’s a little way I have. I say – It’s rather fun chikór shooting in the early morning. What?”
“That means, I suppose, that you’re tired of talking, and would like to go on.” And she rose from her seat.
“Not at all. Sit down again. That’s right. For present purposes it means that you won’t go out with me any more like this of a morning after those two Johnnies come.”
“You won’t want me then. You can all go out together. I should only be in the way.”
“That remark would afford nine-tenths of the British Army the opportunity of retorting, ‘You could never be that.’ I, however, will be brutally singular. Very probably you would be in the way – ”
“Thanks.”
“If we all went out together – I was going to say when you interrupted me.”
A touch on the arm interrupted hint. It came from Bhallu Khan, who, having concluded his devotions was standing at Campian’s side, making vehement gesticulations of warning and silence.
“Eh – what is it?” whispered Campian, looking eagerly in the direction pointed at by the other.
The forester shook his head, and continued to gesticulate. Then he put both forefingers to his head, one on each side above the ears, pointing upwards.
“Does he mean he has seen the devil?” said Campian wonderingly. “I guess he’s trying to make us understand ‘horns.’”
Nesta exploded in a peal of laughter, which, though melodious enough to human ears, must have had a terrifying effect on whatever had been designated by Bhallu Khan. He ceased to point eagerly through the scrub, but his new gesticulations meant unmistakably that the thing, whatever it might be, was gone.
All the Hindustani they could muster between them – and that wasn’t much – failed to make the old forester understand. He smiled talked – then smiled again. Then they all laughed together – But that was all.
Although actually on the scene of his midnight peril, Campian gave that experience no further thought. Nearly a fortnight had gone by since then, and no further alarm had occurred. Bhallu Khan had made inquiries and in the result had learned that the adjacent and then somewhat dreaded Marri tribe was innocent of the playful little event which had so nearly terminated Campian’s allotted span of joys and sorrows. The assailants were Brahuis, of a notoriously marauding clan of that tribe, located in the Khelat district. What they were doing here, so far away from their own part of the country, however, he had not learned, or, if he had, for reasons of his own he kept it to himself. This intelligence lifted what shadow of misgiving might have lingered in the minds of Upward and his wife, as showing that the incident was a mere chance affair, and no indication of restlessness or hostility on the part of the tribesmen in their own immediate neighbourhood.
Another fact gleaned by Bhallu Khan was that the man who had fallen to Campian’s shot was not killed – nor even fatally wounded. This relieved all their minds, especially that of the shooter. It saved all sorts of potential trouble in the way of investigation and so forth – likewise it dispelled sundry unpleasant visions of a blood feud, which now and then would obtrude in spite of all efforts at reasoning them away; for these fierce fanatical mountaineers were hardly the men to suffer bloodshed to pass unavenged. However, no one was much hurt, and the marauders had taken themselves off to their own side of the country. Thus for about ten days had life in Upward’s camp held on its way just as though no narrow escape of grim tragedy had thrown the visitor into its midst. Its inmates rejoiced in the open air life, and, save at night or for an afternoon siesta, were seldom indoors. The male section thereof, notwithstanding plentiful denunciation of the wily chikór and its ways, devoted much time to the pursuit of that exasperating biped, and all would frequently join hands in exploring the surrounding country – tiffin accompanying – to be laid out picnic fashion at some picturesque spot, whether of breezy height or in the cool shade of a tangi. Thus did Upward perform his forest inspections, combining business with pleasure – and everybody was content.
And this statement we make of set purpose. No more aspirations after a return to Shâlalai were now in the air. The infusion of a new element into the daily life of the camp seemed to make a difference. Campian and the two younger girls were friends of old. He did not mind their natural cheekiness – he had a great liking for them, and it only amused him; moreover, it kept things lively. And Nesta Cheriton – sworn worshipper of the sabre, speedily came to the conclusion that all that was entertaining and companionable was not a monopoly vested in the wearers of Her Majesty’s uniform.
For between her and the new arrival a very good understanding had been set up – a very good understanding indeed. But he, in the maturity of years and experience, made light of what might have set another man thinking. They were thrown together these two – and camp life is apt to throw people very much together – He was the only available male, wherefore she made much of him. Given, however, the appearance of two or three lively subalterns on the scene, and he thought he knew how the land would lie. But the consciousness in no wise disquieted him; on the contrary it afforded him a little good-humouredly cynical amusement. He knew human nature, as peculiar to either sex no less than as common to both, and he had reached a point in life when the preferences of the ornamental sex, for any permanent purpose, mattered nothing. But the study of it as a mere subject of dissection did afford him a very great amount of entertainment.
Mature cynic as he was, yet now, looking down at the girl at his side as they took their way back through the wild picturesque valley bottom, the dew shining like silver in the fast ascending sun, a moist woodland odour arising from beneath the juniper trees, he could not but admit to himself that her presence here made a difference – a very great difference. She was wondrously pretty, in the fair, golden-haired style; had pretty ways too – soft, confiding – and a trick of looking up at one that was a trifle dangerous. Only that he felt rather sure it was all part of her way with the male sex in general, and not turned on for his benefit in particular, he might have wondered.
“Well?” she said, looking up suddenly, “what is it all about?”
“You. I was thinking a great deal about you. Now you are going to say I had much better have been talking to you.”
“No. But tell me what you were thinking.”
“I was thinking how deftly you got away from that question of mine – about the one occasion when you did take someone seriously. Now tell us all about it.”
“Ah – I’m not going to tell you.”
“Not, eh?”
“No