Frank shook it heartily as he said gratefully: 

“I’ve only you to thank for it, sir.  It was ripping of you to let me have first shot; and you gave me such a sitter that I couldn’t miss.  Thank you awfully, Colonel.”

Dermot gave a piercing whistle and stood waiting, while the overjoyed subaltern walked round and round the dead bison, marvelling at its size and exclaiming at his own good fortune.

When in a few minutes Badshah appeared, followed by the panting men, Colonel Dermot sent the mahout on his elephant to the stable to fetch other men to cut up and bring in the bison.  Then he and Wargrave on Badshah made for the road to Ranga Duar.

It was dark long before they reached the little station.  The Colonel brought his companion in for a drink after the three thousand feet climb, most of which they had done on foot.  Mrs. Dermot met them in the hall; and, after she had heard the result of the day’s sport, warmly congratulated Wargrave on his good luck.  Loud whispers and a scuffle over their heads attracted the attention of all three elders, and on the broad wooden staircase they saw two small figures, one in pyjamas, the other in a pretty, trailing nightdress daintily tied with blue bows, looking imploringly down at their mother.  She smiled and nodded.  There was a whirlwind rush down the stairs, and the mites were caught up in their father’s arms.  Then Frank came in for his share of caresses from them before they were sternly ordered back to bed again.  And as he passed out into the darkness he carried away with him an enchanting picture of the charming babes climbing the stairs hand in hand and turning to blow kisses to the tall man who stood below with a strong arm around his pretty wife, gazing fondly up at his children.

And the picture stayed with him when, after dinner at which he was congratulated by his brother officers, he went to his room and found a letter overlooked in his rush to dress for Mess.  It was from Violet, the first that had come from her since his arrival in Ranga Duar.  It breathed passion and longing, discontent and despair, in every line.  As he laid his face on his arm to shut out the light where he sat at the table he felt that he was nearer to loving the absent woman than he had ever been.  For the vision of the Dermots’ married happiness, of the deep affection linking husband and wife, of the children climbing the stair and smiling back at their parents, came vividly to him.  And it haunted him in his sleep when in dreams tiny arms were clasped around his neck and baby lips touched his lovingly.

CHAPTER VIII

A GIRL OF THE FOREST