Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 13, 1923 — page 23: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

JUNGLE TEST. The publican bowed himself out, rubbing his hands. As he reached the door he cast a last frightened glance at his beautiful guest. The girl was startled at his looks and as her hand went to her heart she dropped her handkerchief. With a slow and deliberate courtesy Kesh bent to pick it up, but the new chuprassi had snatched it from the floor where he had been squatted. _He gave it to Diane Herries with a salaam, and as he lifted up his head he came face to face with Major Kesh. The latter flushed hotly and swore while the man’s eyes twinkled in response, his dark face lighting with an expression far more intelligent, it most certainly seemed, than the expression of a pariah. ‘Are you here again, grovelling at my feet?” the major snapped. ‘‘ Who the devil are you anyway?” ‘“T am an outcaste, sahib! and your hire- ling! Permit me to save my soul by touching the hem of your garment! Per- mit me to touch your foot!” CHAPTER II. A NIGHT WATCH. FTER the little supper which the pub- lican prepared, Diane Herries seemed completely refreshed. The bloom of one who has just come to India—the bloom of sea travel—was still upon her cheeks, As Surgeon-Major Kesh watched her he re- flected that-in that dank, dim bungalow room she was like a flower blooming on a heap of ashes. Everything else was dead, dried or decayed—even the old major him- self. The flopping moldy old punkah, the odorous oil lamp with its halo of winged insects, the ragged chuprassi squatted on the floor, the chairs, tables, rafters, doors— all embroidered and cross-stitched by the voracious white ants—this was the back- ground for that one radiant figure. “Strange how these people who first came to India can stand the heat and the dampness so much better than the old- timers,” Kesh observed politely. “If I may say so, you seem to have stepped out of a May garden in England—” ‘““T am going to tell you everything,” the girl replied, observing that the surgeon-ma- jor had resolutely avoided asking any ex- planation. “You are probably burning with curiosity. First you want to know how long I’ve been in India.” ‘“ [ know already.” The girl laughed perplexedly. “White girls cannot keep their color in India beyond three months. I should judge you’ve been in the tropics consider- ably less than three weeks.”’ “Two days,” the girl replied. “I was traveling with my aunt and her family and our steamer was to go from Colombo to Calcutta. I wanted to see my fiancé, Ian Dunboyne. Of course, you may not know him. India is so large.” ‘Every one knows every one else in India,” the major corrected. ‘“ Mr. Dun- boyne is in the tobacco business.”’ ‘Well, I wanted to see him. My aunt and all my relatives fought against the match, but I telegraphed to him at Suez and then at Aden. It was not until I reached Ceylon that I heard from him. At first we decided to meet at Colombo, but the family got wind of our plans, and since it would take three days for Mr. Dunboyne to get to Colombo from his station I said I would meet him half way between. I got a P. & O. map, measured the distance and found that Ganj was exactly half—”’ ‘““So you peremptorily telegraphed him to meet you at Ganj!” the major said ex- plosively. ‘“T thought it a good plan.” ‘“ But you overlooked the fact that Ganj wasn’t on the South Indian Railroad, and that your fiancé, Mr. lan Dunboyne, would have to come here through the jungle in order to arrive in time?”’ ‘‘] knew little of Indian geography,” the girl laughed. ‘‘ And yet you traveled all the way from Ceylon to Ganj alone?” ‘Why, of course.” “Upon my word!” ‘Why not?” ‘An English girl traveling in India—” “IT am not English, I am American,” “Oh! Bless my soul!” This seemed to have been a great light upon the whole situation and the major, instead of making , COMIC OOO KS 485 co