He was
the victor of the day, and of course was entitled to the best place. We
were all straggling along, but without any great intervals between us,
so that the two were not able to get away as they had done on Saturday
evening, but they talked, and I heard Miss Westonhaugh laugh. Isaacs was
determined to show that he appreciated his advantage, and though, for
all I know, he might be suffering a good deal of pain, he talked gaily
and sat his horse easily, rather a strange figure in his light-coloured
English overcoat, surmounted by the large white turban he had made out
of the shawl. As we came out on the mall at the top of the hill, Mr.
Ghyrkins called a council of war.
"Of course we shall have to put off the tiger-hunt."
"I suppose so," muttered Kildare, disconsolately.
"Why?" said Isaacs. "Not a bit of it. Head or no head, we will start
to-morrow morning. I am well enough, never fear."
"Nonsense, you know it's nonsense," said Ghyrkins, "you will be in bed
all day with a raging headache. Horrid things, knocks on the back of the
head."
"Not I. My traps are all packed, and my servants have gone down to
Kalka, and I am going to-morrow morning."
"Well, of course, if you really think you can," etc. etc. So he was
prevailed upon to promise that if he should be suffering in the morning
he would send word in time to put off the party.
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