Rujub, the Juggler

“There is something in that, Doolan,” the Doctor agreed; “it is just as hard work having nothing to do as it is having too much; and I have always been of opinion that the tremendous disproportion between the pay of a military man and of a civilian of the same age is simply monstrous. Well, goodnight, Doolan; I hope you will tell Mrs. Doolan that the credit is entirely due to me that you are home at the reasonable hour of one o’clock, instead of dropping in just in time to change for parade.”

“A good fellow,” the Doctor said, as he walked on with Bathurst; “he would never set the Thames on fire; but he is an honest, kindly fellow. He would make a capital officer if he were on service. His marriage has been an excellent thing for him. He had nothing to do before but to pass away his time in the club or mess house, and drink more than was good for him. But he has pulled himself round altogether since he married. His wife is a bright, clever little woman, and knows how to make the house happy for him; if he had married a lackadaisical sort of a woman, the betting is he would have gone to the bad altogether.”

“I only met him once or twice before,” Bathurst said. “You see I am not here very often, and when I am it is only on business, so I know a very few people here except those I have to deal with, and by the time I have got through my business I am generally so thoroughly out of temper with the pig headed stupidity and obstinacy of people in general, that I get into my buggy and drive straight away.”

“I fancy you irritate them as much as they irritate you, Bathurst. Well, here we are; now we will have a quiet cheroot and a peg, to quiet our nerves after all that din, before we turn in. Let us get off our coats and collars, and make ourselves comfortable; it is a proof of the bestial stupidity of mankind that they should wear such abominations as dress clothes in a climate like this. Here, boy, light the candles and bring two sodas and brandies.”

“Well, Bathurst,” he went on, when they had made themselves comfortable in two lounging chairs, “what do you thing of Miss Hannay?”

“I was prepared to admire her, Doctor, from what you said; it is not very often that you overpraise things; but she is a charming girl, very pretty and bright, frank and natural.”

“She is all that,” the Doctor said. “We were four months on the voyage out, and I saw enough of her in that time to know her pretty thoroughly.”

“What puzzles me about her,” Bathurst said, “is that I seemed to know her face. Where I saw her, and under what circumstances, I have been puzzling myself half the evening to recall, but I have the strongest conviction that I have met her.”

“You are dreaming, man. You have been out here eight years; she was a child of ten when you left England! You certainly have not seen her, and as I know pretty well every woman who has been in this station for the last five or six years, I can answer for it that you have not seen anyone in the slightest degree resembling her.”

“That is what I have been saying to myself, Doctor, but that does not in the slightest degree shake my conviction about it.”

“Then you must have dreamt it,” the Doctor said decidedly. “Some fool of a poet has said, ‘Visions of love cast their shadows before,’ or something of that sort, which of course is a lie; still, that is the only way that I can account for it.”

Bathurst smiled faintly. “I don’t think the quotation is quite right, Doctor; anyhow, I am convinced that the impression is far too vivid to have been the result of a dream.”

“By the way, Bathurst,” the Doctor said, suddenly changing his conversation, “what do you think of this talk we hear about chupaties being sent round among the native troops, and the talk about greased cartridges. You see more of the natives than anyone I know; do you think there is anything brewing in the air?”

“If there is, Doctor, I am certain it is not known to the natives in general. I see no change whatever in their manner, and I am sure I know them well enough to notice any change if it existed. I know nothing about the Sepoys, but Garnet tells me that the Company at Deennugghur give him nothing to complain of, though they don’t obey orders as smartly as usual, and they have a. sullen air as they go about their work.”

“I don’t like it, Bathurst. I do not understand what the chupaties mean, but I know that there is a sort of tradition that the sending of them round has always preceded trouble. The Sepoys have no reason for discontent, but there has been no active service lately, and idleness is always bad for men. I can’t believe there is any widespread dissatisfaction among them, but there is no doubt whatever that if there is, and it breaks out, the position will be a very serious one. There are not half enough white troops in India, and the Sepoys may well think that they are masters of the situation. It would be a terrible time for everyone in India if they did take it into their heads to rise.”

“I can’t believe they would be mad enough to do that, Doctor; they have everything to lose by it, and nothing to gain, that is, individually; and we should be sure to win in the long run, even if we had to conquer back India foot by foot.”

“That is all very well, Bathurst; we may know that we could do it, but they don’t know it. They are ignorant altogether of the forces we could put into the field were there a necessity to make the effort. They naturally suppose that we can have but a few soldiers, for in all the battles we have fought there have always been two or three Sepoy regiments to one English. Besides, they consider themselves fully a match for us. They have fought by us side by side in every battlefield in India, and have done as well as we have. I don’t see what they should rise for. I don’t even see whose interest it is to bring a rising about, but I do know that if they rise we shall have a terrible time of it. Now I think we may as well turn in. You won’t take another peg? Well, I shall see you in the morning. I shall be at the hospital by half past six, and shall be in at half past eight to breakfast. You have only got to shout for my man, and tell him whether you will have tea, coffee, or chocolate, any time you wake.”

“I shall be about by six, Doctor; five is my general hour, but as it is past one now I dare say I shall be able to sleep on for an hour later, especially as there is nothing to do.”

“You can go round the hospital with me, if you like,” the Doctor said, “if you will promise not to make a dozen suggestions for the improvement of things in general.”

Isobel Hannay came down to breakfast in high spirits upon the morning of the races. The dinner had gone off excellently. The dinner table, with its softly shaded lamps, and the Doctor’s arrangements of the flowers, had been, she thought, perfection, and everything had passed off without a hitch. Her duties as a hostess had been much lighter than she had anticipated. Mrs. Hunter was a very pleasant, motherly woman, and the girls, who had only come out from England four months before, were fresh and unaffected, and the other people had all been pleasant and chatty.

Altogether, she felt that her first dinner party had been a great success.

She was looking forward now with pleasant anticipation to the day. She had seen but little of the natives so far, and she was now to see them at their best. Then she had never been present at a race, and everything would be new and exciting.

“Well, uncle, what time did you get in?” she asked, as she stepped out into the veranda to meet him on his return from early parade. “It was too bad of you and Mr. Hunter running off instead of waiting to chat things over.”

“I have no doubt you ladies did plenty of that, my dear.”

“Indeed, we didn’t, uncle; you see they had had a very long drive, and Mrs. Hunter insisted on the girls going to bed directly you all went out, and as I could not sit up by myself, I had to go too.”

“We were in at half past twelve,” the Major said. “I can stand a good deal of smoke, but the club atmosphere was too thick for me.”

“Everything went off very well yesterday, didn’t it?” she asked.

“Very well, I thought, my dear, thanks to you and the Doctor and Rumzan.”

“I had very little to do with it,” she laughed.

“Well, I don’t think you had much to do with the absolute arrangements, Isobel, but I thought you did very well as hostess; it seemed to me that there was a good deal of laughing and fun at your end of the table.”

“Yes; you see we had the two Miss Hunters and the Doctor there, and Mr. Gregson, who took me in, turned out a very merry old gentleman.”

“He would not be pleased if he heard you call him old, Isobel.”

“Well, of course he is not absolutely old, but being a commissioner, and all that sort of thing, gives one the idea of being old; but there are the others.”

And they went into the breakfast room.

The first race was set for two o’clock, and at half past one Mrs. Hunter’s carriage, with the four ladies, arrived at the inclosure. The horses were taken out, and the carriage wheeled into its place, and then Isobel and the two Miss Hunters prepared to enjoy the scene.

It was a very gay one. The course was at present covered with a throng of natives in their bright colored garments, and mixed with them were the scarlet uniforms of the Sepoys of the 103d and other regiments. On the opposite side were a number of native vehicles of various descriptions, and some elephants with painted faces and gorgeous trappings, and with howdahs shaded by pavilions glittering with gilt and silver.

On either side of their vehicle a long line of carriages was soon formed up, and among these were several occupied by gayly dressed natives, whose rank gave them an entrance to the privileged inclosure. The carriages were placed three or four yards back from the rail, and the intervening space was filled with civilian and military officers, in white or light attire, and with pith helmet or puggaree; many others were on horseback behind the carriages.

“It is a bright scene, Miss Hannay,” the Doctor said, coming up to the carriage.

“Wonderfully pretty, Doctor!”

“An English race course doesn’t do after this, I can tell you. I went down to the Derby when I was at home, and such an assembly of riff raff I never saw before and never wish to see again.”

“These people are more picturesque, Dr. Wade,” Mrs. Hunter said, “but that is merely a question of garment; these people perhaps are no more trustworthy than those you met on the racecourse at home.”

“I was speaking of them purely as a spectacle; individually I have no doubt one would be safer among the English roughs and betting men than among these placid looking natives. The one would pick your pockets of every penny you have got if they had the chance, the other would cut your throat with just as little compunction.”

“You don’t really mean that, Dr. Wade?” Isobel said.

“I do indeed, Miss Hannay; the Oude men are notorious brawlers and fighters, and I should say that the roughs of Cawnpore and Lucknow could give long odds to those of any European city, and three out of four of those men you see walking about there would not only cut the throat of a European to obtain what money he had about him, but would do so without that incentive, upon the simple ground that he hated us.”

“But why should he hate us, Doctor? he is none the worse off now than he was before we annexed the country.”

“Well, yes, that class of man is worse off. In the old days every noble and Zemindar kept up a little army for the purpose of fighting his neighbors, just as our Barons used to do in the happy olden times people talk of. We have put down private fighting, and the consequence is these men’s occupations are gone, and they flock to great towns and there live as best they can, ready to commit any crime whatever for the sum of a few rupees.

“There is Nana Sahib.”

Isobel looked round and saw a carriage with a magnificent pair of horses, in harness almost covered with silver ornaments, drive up to a place that had been kept vacant for it. Four natives were sitting in it.

“That is the Rajah,” the Doctor said, “the farther man, with that aigrette of diamonds in his turban. He is Oriental today, but sometimes he affects English fashions. He is a very cheery fellow, he keeps pretty well open house at Bithoor, has a billiard table, and a first rate cellar of wine, carriages for the use of guests—in fact, he does the thing really handsomely.”

“Here is my opera glass,” Mrs. Hunter said. Isobel looked long and fixedly at the Rajah.

“Well, what do you think of him?” the Doctor asked as she lowered it.

“I do not know what to think of him,” she said; “his face does not tell me anything, it is like looking at a mask; but you see I am not accustomed to read brown men’s characters, they are so different from Europeans, their faces all seem so impassive. I suppose it is the way in which they are brought up and trained.”

“Ages of tyranny have made them supple and deceitful,” the Doctor said, “but of course less so here than among the Bengallies, who, being naturally unwarlike and cowardly, have always been the slaves of some master or other.

“You evidently don’t like the Nana, Miss Hannay. I am rather glad you don’t, for he is no great favorite of mine, though he is so generally popular in the station here. I don’t like him because it is not natural that he should be so friendly with us. We undoubtedly, according to native notions, robbed him of one of the finest positions in India by refusing to acknowledge his adoption. We have given him a princely revenue, but that, after all, is a mere trifle to what he would have had as Peishwa. Whatever virtues the natives of this country possess, the forgiving of injuries is not among them, and therefore I consider it to be altogether unnatural that he, having been, as he at any rate and everyone round him must consider, foully wronged, should go out of his way to affect our society and declare the warmest friendship for us.”

The Rajah was laughing and talking with General Wheeler and the group of officers round his carriage.

Again Isobel raised the glasses. “You are right, Doctor,” she said, “I don’t like him.”

“Well, there is one comfort, it doesn’t matter whether he is sincere or not, he is powerless to hurt us. I don’t see any motive for his pretending to be friendly if he is not, but I own that I should like him better if he sulked and would have nothing to say to us, as would be the natural course.”

The bell now began to ring, and the native police cleared the course. Major Hannay and Mr. Hunter, who had driven over in the buggy, came up and took their places on the box of the carriage.

“Here are cards of the races,” he said. “Now is the time, young ladies, to make your bets.”

“I don’t know even the name of anyone in this first race,” Isobel said, looking at the card.

“That doesn’t matter in the least, Miss Hannay,” Wilson, who had just come up to the side of the carriage, said. “There are six horses in; you pick out any one you like, and I will lay you five pairs of gloves to one against him.”

“But how am I to pick out when I don’t know anything about them, Mr. Wilson? I might pick out one that had no chance at all.”

“Yes; but you might pick out the favorite, Miss Hannay, so that it is quite fair.”

“Don’t you bet, Isobel,” her uncle said. “Let us have a sweepstake instead.”

“What is a sweepstake, uncle?”

There was a general laugh.

“Well, my dear, we each put in a rupee. There are six of us, and there are Wilson and the Doctor. You will go in, Doctor, won’t you?”

“Yes; I don’t mind throwing away a rupee, Major.”

“Very well, that makes eight. We put eight pieces of paper in the hat. Six of them have got the names of the horses on, the other two are blank. Then we each pull out one. Whoever draws the name of the horse that wins takes five rupees, the holder of the second two, and the third saves his stake. You shall hold the stakes, Mrs. Hunter. We have all confidence in you.”

The slips were drawn.

“My horse is Bruce,” Isobel said.

“There he is, Miss Hannay,” Wilson, who had drawn a blank, said, as a horse whose rider had a straw colored jacket and cap came cantering along the course. “This is a race for country horses—owners up. That means ridden by their owners. That is Pearson of the 13th Native Cavalry. He brought the horse over from Lucknow.”

“What chance has he?”

“I have not the least idea, Miss Hannay. I did not hear any betting on this race at all.”

“That is a nice horse, uncle,” Isobel said, as one with a rider in black jacket, with red cap, came past.

“That is Delhi. Yes, it has good action.”

“That is mine,” the eldest Miss Hunter said.

“The rider is a good looking young fellow,” the Doctor said, “and is perfectly conscious of it himself. Who is he, Wilson? I don’t know him.”

“He is a civilian. Belongs to the public works, I think.”

The other horses now came along, and after short preliminary canters the start was made. To Isobel’s disappointment her horse was never in the race, which Delhi looked like winning until near the post, when a rather common looking horse, which had been lying a short distance behind him, came up with a rush and won by a length.

“I don’t call that fair,” Miss Hunter said, “when the other was first all along. I call that a mean way of winning, don’t you, father?”

“Well, no, my dear. It was easy to see for the last quarter of a mile that the other was making what is called ‘a waiting race’ of it, and was only biding his time. There is nothing unfair in that, I fancy Delhi might have won if he had had a better jockey. His rider never really called upon him till it was too late. He was so thoroughly satisfied with himself and his position in the race that he was taken completely by surprise when Moonshee came suddenly up to him.”

“Well, I think it is very hard upon Delhi, father, after keeping ahead all the way and going so nicely. I think everyone ought to do their best from the first.”

“I fancy you are thinking, Miss Hunter,” the Doctor said, “quite as much that it is hard on you being beaten after your hopes had been raised, as it is upon the horse.”

“Perhaps I am, Doctor,” she admitted.

“I think it is much harder on me,” Isobel said. “You have had the satisfaction of thinking all along that your horse was going to win, while mine never gave me the least bit of hope.”

“The proper expression, Miss Hannay, is, your horse never flattered you.”

“Then I think it is a very silly expression, Mr. Wilson, because I don’t see that flattery has anything to do with it.”

“Ah, here is Bathurst,” the Doctor said. “Where have you been, Bathurst? You slipped away from me just now.”

“I’ve just been talking to the Commissioner, Doctor. I have been trying to get him to see—”

“Why, you don’t mean to say,” the Doctor broke in, “that you have been trying to cram your theories down his throat on a racecourse?”

“It was before the race began,” Bathurst said, “and I don’t think the Commissioner has any more interest in racing than I have.”

“Not in racing,” the Doctor agreed, “but I expect he has an interest in enjoying himself generally, which is a thing you don’t seem to have the most remote idea of. Here we are just getting up a sweepstake for the next race; hand over a rupee and try to get up an interest in it. Do try and forget your work till the race is over. I have brought you here to do you good. I regard you as my patient, and I give you my medical orders that you are to enjoy yourself.”

Bathurst laughed.

“I am enjoying myself in my way, Doctor.”

“Who is that very pretty woman standing up in the next carriage but one?” Isobel asked.

“She comes from an out station,” the Doctor repeated; “she is the wife of the Collector there, but I think she likes Cawnpore better than Boorgum; her name is Rose.”

“Is that her husband talking to her?”

“No; that is a man in the Artillery here, I think.”

“Yes,” the Major said, “that is Harrowby, a good looking fellow, and quite a ladies’ man.”

“Do you mean a man ladies like, uncle, or who likes the society of ladies?”

“Both in his case, I should fancy,” the Major said; “I believe he is considered one of the best looking men in the service.”

“I don’t see why he should be liked for that,” Isobel said. “As far as I have seen, good looking men are not so pleasant as others. I suppose it is because they are conscious of their own good looks, and therefore do not take the trouble of being amusing. We had one very good looking man on board ship, and he was the dullest man to talk to on board. No, Doctor, I won’t have any names mentioned, but I am right, am I not?”

“He was a dull specimen, certainly,” the Doctor said, “but I think you are a little too sweeping.”

“I don’t mean all good looking men, of course, but men who what I call go in for being good looking. I don’t know whether you know what I mean. What are you smiling at, Mr. Wilson?”

“I was thinking of two or three men I know to whom your description applies, Miss Hannay; but I must be going—they are just going to start the next race, and mine is the one after, so I must go and get ready. You wish me success, don’t you?”

“I wish you all the success you deserve. I can’t say more than that, can I?”

“I am afraid that is saying very little,” he laughed. “I don’t expect to win, but I do hope I shall beat Richards, because he is so cock sure he will beat me.”

This wish was not gratified. The first and second horses made a close race of it; behind them by ten or twelve lengths came the other horses in a clump, Wilson and Richards singling themselves out in the last hundred yards and making a desperate race for the third place, for which they made a dead heat, amid great laughter from their comrades.

“That is excellent,” Major Hannay said; “you won’t see anything more amusing than that today, girls. The third horse simply saved his stake, so that as they will of course divide, they will have paid twenty-five rupees each for the pleasure of riding, and the point which of their tats is the fastest remains unsettled.”

“Well, they beat a good many of them, Major Hannay,” Miss Hunter said; “so they did not do so badly after all.”

“Oh, no, they did not do so badly; but it will be a long time before they get over the chaff about their desperate struggle for the third place.”

The next two races attracted but slight attention from the occupants of the carriage. Most of their acquaintances in the station came up one after the other for a chat. There were many fresh introductions, and there was so much conversation and laughter that the girls had little time to attend to what was going on around them. Wilson and Richards both sauntered up after changing, and were the subject of much chaff as to their brilliant riding at the finish. Both were firm in the belief that the judge’s finding was wrong, and each maintained stoutly he had beaten the other by a good head.

The race for Arabs turned out a very exciting one; the Rajah of Bithoor’s horse was the favorite, on the strength of its performances elsewhere; but Prothero’s horse was also well supported, especially in the regiment, for the Adjutant was a first class rider, and was in great request at all the principal meetings in Oude and the Northwest Provinces, while it was known that the Rajah’s horse would be ridden by a native. The latter was dressed in strict racing costume, and had at the last races at Cawnpore won two or three cups for the Rajah.

But the general opinion among the officers of the station was that Prothero’s coolness and nerve would tell. His Arab was certainly a fast one, and had won the previous year, both at Cawnpore and Lucknow; but the Rajah’s new purchase had gained so high a reputation in the Western Presidency as fully to justify the odds of two to one laid on it, while four to one were offered against Prothero, and from eight to twenty to one against any other competitor.

Prothero had stopped to have a chat at the Hunters’ carriage as he walked towards the dressing tent.

“Our hopes are all centered in you, Mr. Prothero,” Mr. Hunter said. “Miss Hannay has been wagering gloves in a frightfully reckless way.”

“I should advise you to hedge if you can, Miss Hannay,” he said. “I think there is no doubt that Mameluke is a good deal faster than Seila. I fancy he is pounds better. I only beat Vincent’s horse by a head last year, and Mameluke gave him seven pounds, and beat him by three lengths at Poona. So I should strongly advise you to hedge your bets if you can.”