"You are not a nice person to rouse," remarked he in a low voice, as I
relaxed my grasp. "You will have fever if you sleep out-of-doors at this
time of year. Now look here; it is past midnight, and I am going out a
little way." I noticed that he had a _kookrie_ knife at his waist, and
that his cartridge-belt was on his chest.
"I will go with you," said I, guessing his intention. "I will be ready
in a moment," and I began to move towards the tent.
"No. I must go alone, and do this thing single-handed. I have a
particular reason. I only wanted to warn you I was gone, in case you
missed me. I shall take that ryot fellow with me to show me the way."
"Give him a gun," I suggested.
"He could not use one if I did. He has your _kookrie_ in case of
accidents."
"Oh, very well! do not let me interfere with any innocent and childlike
pastime you may propose for your evening hours. I will attend to your
funeral in the morning. Good-night."
"Good-night; I shall be back before you are up." And he walked quickly
off to where the ryot was waiting and holding his guns. He had the sense
to take two. I was angry at the perverse temerity of the man. Why could
he not have an elephant out and go like a sensible thinking being,
instead of sneaking out with one miserable peasant to lie all night
among the reeds, in as great danger from cobras as from the beast he
meant to kill? And all for a girl --an English girl--a creature all fair
hair and eyes, with no more intelligence than a sheep! Was it not she
who sent him out to his death in the jungle, that her miserable caprice
for a pair of tiger's ears might be immediately satisfied? If a woman
ever loved me, Paul Griggs,--thank heaven no woman ever did,--would I go
out into bogs and desert places and risk my precious skin to find her a
pair of cat's ears? Not I;--wait a moment, though.
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