They had not long to wait out in the open before they saw three or four riders spread over the desert apparently looking for them, so they cantered towards them.  As soon as they were seen by the search party a sowar galloped to meet them and, saluting, told them that the Maharajah and the rest had taken refuge from the storm in a village a couple of miles away.  Then from the kamarband, or broad cloth encircling his waist like a sash, he produced two bottles of soda-water which he opened and gave to them.  The liquid was warm, but nevertheless was acceptable to their parched throats.

They followed their guide at a gallop and soon were being welcomed by the rest of the party in a small village of low mud huts.  A couple of kneeling camels, bubbling, squealing and viciously trying to bite everyone within reach, were being unloaded by some of the Maharajah’s servants.  Other attendants were spreading a white cloth on the ground by a well under a couple of tall palm-trees and laying on it an excellent cold lunch for the Europeans, with bottles of champagne standing in silver pails filled with ice.

As soon as his anxiety on Mrs. Norton’s account was relieved by her arrival, His Highness, who as an orthodox Hindu could not eat with his guests, begged them to excuse him and, being helped with difficulty on his horse, rode slowly off, still shaken and sorely bruised by his fall.  His nobles and officials accompanied him.

After lunch all went to inspect the heap of slain boars laid on the ground in the shade of a hut.  Wargrave’s kill had been added to it.  Much to the subaltern’s delight its tusk proved to be the longest and finest of all; and he was warmly congratulated by the more experienced pigstickers on his success.  Shortly afterwards the beaters went into the nullah again; and a few more runs added another couple of boars to the bag.  Then, after iced drinks while their saddles were being changed back on to their own horses, the Britishers mounted and started on their homeward journey.

Without quite knowing how it happened Wargrave found himself riding beside Mrs. Norton behind the rest of the party.  On the way back they chatted freely and without restraint, like old friends.  For the incidents of the day had served to sweep away formality between them and to give them a sense of long acquaintanceship and mutual liking.  And, when the time came for Mrs. Norton to separate from the others as she reached the spot where the road to the Residency branched off, the subaltern volunteered to accompany her.

It had not taken them long to discover that they had several tastes in common.

“So you like good music?” she said after a chance remark of his.  “It is pleasant to find a kindred spirit in this desolate place.  The ladies and the other officers of your regiment are Philistines.  Ragtime is more in their line than Grieg or Brahms.  And the other day Captain Ross asked me if Tschaikowsky wasn’t the Russian dancer at the Coliseum in town.”