At length a sudden turn threw out all the field except the Maharajah, who had foreseen it and ridden off to intercept the now tiring boar.  Overtaking it he bent forward and wounded it slightly.  The brute instantly swung in upon his horse, and with a fierce grunt dashed under it and leapt up at it with a toss of the head that gave an upward thrust to the long, curved tusk.  In an instant the horse was ripped open and brought crashing to the ground, pinning its rider’s leg to the earth beneath it.  The boar turned again, marked the prostrate man, and with a savage gleam in its little eyes charged the Maharajah, its gleaming ivory tusks, six inches long, as sharp and deadly as an Afridi’s knife.

CHAPTER II

YOUTH CALLS TO YOUTH

But at that moment a shout made the boar hesitate, and Raymond dashed in on it at racing speed, driving his spear so deeply into its side that, as he swept on, the tough bamboo broke like match-wood.  The stricken beast tottered forward a yard or two, then turned and stood undauntedly at bay, as a sowar rode at it.  But before his steel could touch its hide it shuddered and sank to the ground dead.

The dying horse was lifted off the Maharajah who, with the courage of his race, had remained calm in the face of the onrushing death.  He was assisted to rise, but was so severely shaken and bruised that at first he was unable to stand without support.  Leaning on the arm of one of his nobles he held out his hand to Raymond, when the latter rode up, and thanked him gratefully for his timely aid.  Then the exhausted but gallant prince sat down on the sand to recover himself.  But he assured everyone that he was not hurt and, insisting that the sport should go on, gave orders for the beat to continue.

Wargrave had chanced to dismount to tighten the girth of Mrs. Norton’s horse, when a fresh boar broke from cover and was instantly pursued by all the others of the hunt.  The subaltern ruefully accepted the lady’s apologies and hurriedly swung himself up into the saddle again to follow, when his companion cried: 

“Look!  Look, Mr. Wargrave!  There’s another.  Come, we’ll have him all to ourselves.”

And striking her pony with her gold-mounted whip she dashed off at a gallop after a grey old boar that had craftily kept close in cover and crept out quietly after the beaters had passed.  Wargrave, filled with excitement, struck spurs to his mount and raced after her, soon catching up and passing her.  Over the sand pitted with holes and strewn with loose stones they raced, the boar bounding before them with rocking motion and leading them in a long, stern chase.  Again and again the beast swerved; but at last with a fierce thrill Wargrave felt the steel head of the spear strike home in the quarry.  As he was carried on past it he withdrew the weapon, then pulled his panting horse round.  The boar was checked; but