The thrust this time was mortal.  The boar staggered on a few steps, then stumbled and fell heavily to the ground.  The hunters reined in their sweating horses and gathered round it.

“Not a big animal,” commented the Maharajah, scrutinising it with the eye of an expert.  “About thirty-four inches high, I think.  But the tusks are good.  They’re yours, Captain Ross, aren’t they?”

“Yes, Your Highness, I think so,” replied Ross.

Pigsticking law awards the trophy to the rider whose spear first inflicts a wound on the boar.

“Better luck next time, Mr. Wargrave,” said Mrs. Norton, riding up to him.  “I thought you were sure of him when he jinked away from the Maharajah.”

“To be quite candid I was rather relieved that I didn’t get the chance, Mrs. Norton,” replied the subaltern.  “As I’ve never been out after pig before I didn’t quite know what to do.  However, I’ve seen now that it isn’t very difficult; so I hope I’ll get an opportunity later.”

“You are sure to, Mr. Wargrave,” remarked the Maharajah.  “There are several boars left in cover; and the men are going in again.”

The tatterdemalion mob of beaters was descending into the nullah; and soon the wild din broke out once more.  A gaunt grey boar with long and gleaming tusks was seen to emerge from the scrub and climb the far bank of the ravine, where he stood safely out of reach but in full view of the tantalised hunters.  But a string of laden camels passing over the desert scared him back again; and while the riders watched in eager excitement, he slowly descended into the nullah, crossed it and came up on the near side some hundreds of yards away.

The Maharajah raised his spear.

“Ride!” he cried.

“Go like the devil, Frank!” shouted Raymond, as the scurrying horsemen swept in a body over the sand and he found himself for a moment beside his friend.  “He’s a beauty.  Forty inches, I’ll swear.  Splendid tusks.”

Wargrave crouched like a jockey in the saddle as the riders raced madly after the boar.  The Indians among them, wildly excited, brandished their lances and uttered fierce cries as they galloped along.  Their Maharajah’s speedier mount again took the lead; but even in India sport is democratic and his nobles, attendants and soldiers all tried to overtake and pass him.  The white men, as is their wont, rode in silence but none the less keenly excited.  Over sand and stones, past tall, prickly cactus-plants, in hot pursuit all flew at racing speed.

It was a long chase; for the old grey boar was speedy, cunning, and a master of wiles.  First one pursuer, then another, then a third and a fourth, found himself almost upon the quarry and bent down with outstretched, eager spear only to be baffled by a swift jink and carried on helplessly, pulling vainly at the reins.