Rujub, the Juggler

“What does he mean by hedge, uncle?”

“To hedge is to bet the other way, so that one bet cancels the other.”

“Oh, I shan’t do that,” she said; “I have enough money to pay my bets if I lose.”

“Do you mean to say you mean to pay your bets if you lose, Miss Hannay?” the Doctor asked incredulously.

“Of course I do,” she said indignantly. “You don’t suppose I intend to take the gloves if I win, and not to pay if I lose?”

“It is not altogether an uncommon practice among ladies,” the Doctor said, “when they bet against gentlemen. I believe that when they wager against each other, which they do not often do, they are strictly honest, but that otherwise their memories are apt to fail them altogether.”

“That is a libel, Mrs. Hunter, is it not?”

“Not altogether, I think. Of course many ladies do pay their bets when they lose, but others certainly do not.”

“Then I call it very mean,” Isobel said earnestly. “Why, it is as bad as asking anyone to make you a present of so many pairs of gloves in case a certain horse wins.”

“It comes a good deal to the same thing,” Mrs. Hunter admitted, “but to a certain extent it is a recognized custom; it is a sort of tribute that is exacted at race time, just as in France every lady expects a present from every gentleman of her acquaintance on New Year’s Day.”

“I wouldn’t bet if I didn’t mean to pay honestly,” Isobel said. “And if Mr. Prothero doesn’t win, my debts will all be honorably discharged.”

There was a hush of expectation in the crowd when the ten horses whose numbers were up went down to the starting point, a quarter of a mile from the stand. They were to pass it, make the circuit, and finish there, the race being two miles. The interest of the natives was enlisted by the fact that Nana Sahib was running a horse, while the hopes of the occupants of the inclosure rested principally on Seila.

The flag fell to a good start; but when the horses came along Isobel saw with surprise that the dark blue of the Rajah and the Adjutant’s scarlet and white were both in the rear of the group. Soon afterwards the scarlet seemed to be making its way through the horses, and was speedily leading them.

“Prothero is making the running with a vengeance,” the Major said. “That is not like his usual tactics, Doctor.”

“I fancy he knows what he is doing,” the Doctor replied. “He saw that Mameluke’s rider was going to make a waiting race of it, and as the horse has certainly the turn of speed on him, he is trying other tactics. They are passing the mile post now, and Prothero is twelve or fourteen lengths ahead. There, Mameluke is going through his horses; his rider is beginning to get nervous at the lead Prothero has got, and he can’t stand it any longer. He ought to have waited for another half mile. You will see, Prothero will win after all. Seila can stay, there is no doubt about that.”

A roar of satisfaction rose from the mass of natives on the other side of the inclosure as Mameluke was seen to leave the group of horses and gradually to gain upon Seila.

“Oh, he will catch him, uncle!” Isobel said, tearing her handkerchief in her excitement.

The Major was watching the horses through his field glass.

“Never mind his catching him,” he said; “Prothero is riding quietly and steadily. Seila is doing nearly her best, but he is not hurrying her, while the fool on Mameluke is bustling the horse as if he had only a hundred yards further to go.”

The horses were nearing the point at which they had started, when a shout from the crowd proclaimed that the blue jacket had come up to and passed the scarlet. Slowly it forged ahead until it was two lengths in advance, for a few strides their relative positions remained unaltered, then there was a shout from the carriages; scarlet was coming up again. Mameluke’s rider glanced over his shoulder, and began to use the whip. For a few strides the horse widened the gap again, but Prothero still sat quiet and unmoved. Just as they reached the end of the line of carriages, Seila again began to close up.

“Seila wins! Seila wins!” the officers shouted.

But it seemed to Isobel that this was well nigh impossible, but foot by foot the mare came up, and as they passed the Hunters’ carriage her head was in advance.

In spite of the desperate efforts of the rider of Mameluke, another hundred yards and they passed the winning post, Seila a length ahead.

CHAPTER VII

The exultation of the officers of the 103d over Seila’s victory was great. They had all backed her, relying upon Prothero’s riding, but although his success was generally popular among the Europeans at the station, many had lost considerable sums by their confidence in Mameluke’s speed.

Isobel sat down feeling quite faint from the excitement.

“I did not think I could have been so excited over a race between two horses,” she said to Mrs. Hunter; “it was not the bets, I never even thought about them—it was just because I wanted to see Mr. Prothero’s horse win. I never understood before why people should take such an interest in horse racing, but I quite understand now.”

“What is your size, Miss Hannay?” Wilson asked.

“Oh, I don’t care anything about the gloves, Mr. Wilson; I am sorry I bet now.”

“You needn’t feel any compunction in taking them from me or from any of us, Miss Hannay; we have all won over Seila; the regiment will have to give a ball on the strength of it. I only put on a hundred rupees, and so have won four hundred, but most of them have won ever so much more than that; and all I have lost is four pair of gloves to you, and four to Mrs. Doolan, and four to Mrs. Prothero—a dozen in all. Which do you take, white or cream, and what is your size?”

“Six and a half, cream.”

“All right, Miss Hannay. The Nana must have lost a good lot of money; he has been backing his horse with everyone who would lay against it. However, it won’t make any difference to him, and it is always a satisfaction when the loss comes on someone to whom it doesn’t matter a bit. I think the regiment ought to give a dinner to Prothero, Major; it was entirely his riding that did it; he hustled that nigger on Mameluke splendidly. If the fellow had waited till within half a mile of home he would have won to a certainty; I never saw anything better.”

“Well, Miss Hannay, what do you think of a horse race?” Bathurst, who had only remained a few minutes at the carriage, asked, as he strolled up again. “You said yesterday that you had never seen one.”

“I am a little ashamed to say I was very much excited over it, Mr. Bathurst. You have not lost, I hope? You are looking” and she stopped.

“Shaky?” he said. “Yes; I feel shaky. I had not a penny on the race, for though the Doctor made me put into a sweep last night at the club, I drew a blank; but the shouting and excitement at the finish seemed to take my breath away, and I felt quite faint.”

“That is just how I felt; I did not know men felt like that. They don’t generally seem to know what nerves are.”

“I wish I didn’t; it is a great nuisance. The Doctor tries to persuade me that it is the effect of overwork, but I have always been so from a child, and I can’t get over it.”

“You don’t look nervous, Mr. Bathurst.”

“No; when a man is a fair size, and looks bronzed and healthy, no one will give him credit for being nervous. I would give a very great deal if I could get over it.”

“I don’t see that it matters much one way or the other, Mr. Bathurst.”

“I can assure you that it does. I regard it as being a most serious misfortune.”

Isobel was a little surprised at the earnestness with which he spoke.

“I should not have thought that,” she said quietly; “but I can understand that it is disagreeable for a man to feel nervous, simply, I suppose, because it is regarded as a feminine quality; but I think a good many men are nervous. We had several entertainments on board the ship coming out, and it was funny to see how many great strong men broke down, especially those who had to make speeches.”

“I am not nervous in that way,” Bathurst said, with a laugh. “My pet horror is noise; thunder prostrates me completely, and in fact all noises, especially any sharp, sudden sound, affect me. I really find it a great nuisance. I fancy a woman with nerves considers herself as a martyr, and deserving of all pity and sympathy. It is almost a fashionable complaint, and she is a little proud of it; but a man ought to have his nerves in good order, and as much as that is expected of him unless he is a feeble little body. There is the bell for the next race.”

“Are you going to bet on this race again, Miss Hannay?” Wilson said, coming up.

“No, Mr. Wilson. I have done my first and last bit of gambling. I don’t think it is nice, ladies betting, after all, and if there were a hospital here I should order you to send the money the gloves will cost you to it as conscience money, and then perhaps you might follow my example with your winnings.”

“My conscience is not moved in any way,” he laughed; “when it is I will look out for a deserving charity. Well, if you won’t bet I must see if I can make a small investment somewhere else.”

“I shall see you at the ball, of course?” Isobel said, turning to Mr. Bathurst, as Wilson left the carriage.

“No, I think not. Balls are altogether out of my line, and as there is always a superabundance of men at such affairs here, there is no sense of duty about it.”

“What is your line, Mr. Bathurst?”

“I am afraid I have none, Miss Hannay. The fact is, there is really more work to be done than one can get through. When you get to know the natives well you cannot help liking them and longing to do them some good if they would but let you, but it is so difficult to get them to take up new ideas. Their religion, with all its customs and ceremonies, seems designed expressly to bar out all improvements. Except in the case of abolishing Suttee, we have scarcely weaned them from one of their observances; and even now, in spite of our efforts, widows occasionally immolate themselves, and that with the general approval.

“I wish I had an army of ten thousand English ladies all speaking the language well to go about among the women and make friends with them; there would be more good done in that way than by all the officials in India. They might not be able to emancipate themselves from all their restrictions, but they might influence their children, and in time pave the way for a moral revolution. But it is ridiculous,” he said, breaking off suddenly, “my talking like this here, but you see it is what you call my line, my hobby, if you like; but when one sees this hard working, patient, gentle people making their lot so much harder than it need be by their customs and observances one longs to force them even against their own will to burst their bonds.”

Dr. Wade came up at this moment and caught the last word or two.

“You are incorrigible, Bathurst. Miss Hannay, I warn you that this man is a monomaniac. I drag him away from his work, and here he is discoursing with you on reform just as a race is going to start. You may imagine, my dear, what a thorn he is in the side of the bigwigs. You have heard of Talleyrand’s advice to a young official, ‘Above all things, no zeal.’ Go away, Bathurst; Miss Hannay wants to see the race, and even if she doesn’t she is powerless to assist you in your crusade.”

Bathurst laughed and drew off.

“That is too bad, Doctor. I was very interested. I like to talk to people who can think of something besides races and balls and the gossip of the station.”

“Yes, in reason, in reason, my dear; but there is a medium in all things. I have no doubt Bathurst will be quite happy some time or other to give you his full views on child marriages, and the remarriages of widows, and female education, and the land settlement, and a score of other questions, but for this a few weeks of perfect leisure will be required. Seriously, you know that I think Bathurst one of the finest young fellows in the service, but his very earnestness injures both his prospects and his utility. The officials have a horror of enthusiasm; they like the cut and dried subordinate who does his duty conscientiously, and does not trouble his head about anything but carrying out the regulations laid down for him.

“Theoretically I agree with most of Bathurst’s views, practically I see that a score of officials like him would excite a revolution throughout a whole province. In India, of all places in the world, the maxim festina lente—go slow—is applicable. You have the prejudices of a couple of thousand years against change. The people of all things are jealous of the slightest appearance of interference with their customs. The change will no doubt come in time, but it must come gradually, and must be the work of the natives themselves and not of us. To try to hasten that time would be but to defer it. Now, child, there is the bell; now just attend to the business in hand.”

“Very well, Doctor, I will obey your orders, but it is only fair to say that Mr. Bathurst’s remarks are only in answer to something I said,” and Isobel turned to watch the race, but with an interest less ardent than she had before felt.

Isobel’s character was an essentially earnest one, and her life up to the day of her departure to India had been one of few pleasures. She had enjoyed the change and had entered heartily into it, and she was as yet by no means tired of it, but she had upon her arrival at Cawnpore been a little disappointed that there was no definite work for her to perform, and had already begun to feel that a time would come when she would want something more than gossip and amusements and the light talk of the officers of her acquaintance to fill her life.

She had as yet no distinct interest of her own, and Bathurst’s earnestness had struck a cord in her own nature and seemed to open a wide area for thought. She put it aside now and chatted gayly with the Hunters and those who came up to the carriage, but it came back to her as she sat in her room before going to bed.

Up till now she had not heard a remark since she had been in Cawnpore that might not have been spoken had the cantonments there been the whole of India, except that persons at other stations were mentioned. The vast, seething native population were no more alluded to than if they were a world apart. Bathurst’s words had for the first time brought home to her the reality of their existence, and that around this little group of English men and women lay a vast population, with their joys and sorrows and sufferings.

At breakfast she surprised Mrs. Hunter by asking a variety of questions as to native customs. “I suppose you have often been in the Zenanas, Mrs. Hunter?”

“Not often, my dear. I have been in some of them, and very depressing it is to see how childish and ignorant the women are.”

“Can nothing be done for them, Mrs. Hunter?”

“Very little. In time I suppose there will be schools for girls, but you see they marry so young that it is difficult to get at them.”

“How young do they marry?”

“They are betrothed, although it has all the force of a marriage, as infants, and a girl can be a widow at two or three years old; and so, poor little thing, she remains to the end of her life in a position little better than that of a servant in her husband’s family. Really they are married at ten or eleven.”

Isobel looked amazed at this her first insight into native life. Mrs. Hunter smiled.

“I heard Mr. Bathurst saying something to you about it yesterday, Miss Hannay. He is an enthusiast; we like him very much, but we don’t see much of him.”

“You must beware of him, Miss Hannay,” Mr. Hunter said, “or he will inoculate you with some of his fads. I do not say that he is not right, but he sees the immensity of the need for change, but does not see fully the immensity of the difficulty in bringing it about.”

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