The Pursuit

by Frank Savile

  CHAPTER II

  AT THE TENT CLUB

  Aylmer tightened the reins, touched the rowels against the mare's flank,and lifted her out of her easy amble into something like a canter. Hecalled to his companion and pointed up the slope at a gleam of white setin the dun green of the cork woods.

  "The camp!" he said, and gave a little sigh of relief. Through thefifteen miles which separate Tangier from Awara the two had halted nolonger than sufficed to tighten a girth or light a cigarette. The horseswere white with lather, the men stained with dust.

  Commandant Rattier looked, nodded, and smiled. For a sailor, people wereapt to consider him taciturn--at first; but they soon discovered thathis was a taciturnity which spoke. His brown eyes could gleam with manylights which were whimsically expressive. A little sidelong jerk of hisneatly trimmed beard told more than many elaborated sentences.Reputations had tottered and scandals had been abashed before a singlegesture of his neatly gloved hands. For the moment his nod suggestedcontent, anticipation, and unruffled good humor.

  A minute later surprise overcame his reticence. Half a dozen dull,half-muffled explosions throbbed in the distant jungle of broom and wildolive. The commandant's eyebrows rose in arcs of amazement.

  "Do they then shoot the boar as well as impale it?" he asked.

  Aylmer smiled.

  "The beaters," he explained. "They are driving towards the plain behindthe marsh. They are firing blank charges."

  The Frenchman gave a little laugh.

  "In all these matters you must remember that I am of an ignorance themost profound. And my impudence, also, must appear to you colossal. I amto allow myself to charge with a spear--I, who, till to-day, have neverseen a wild pig save, perhaps, as bacon!"

  Aylmer dropped the reins upon the mare's neck, lifted his hand, andwiped his forehead.

  "All things must have a beginning, my friend," he said. "You have thesailor's eye and, no doubt, the sailor's steady hand. And, above all,you ride--as sailors do not always ride. I have every reason to believethat I shall be proud of you before the day is out."

  Rattier lifted his shoulders with a little shrug. He did not speak, buthe left the impression that he deprecated this point of view, found thearguments futile, and disposed of the question finally. The attention ofthe riders was suddenly drawn elsewhere.

  A couple of men emerged into view from behind a clump of argans. Theyheld two horses by the bridles. One of them signalled with outstretchedhand.

  As Aylmer reined in the mare almost upon her haunches the man droppedhis hand, relinquished the horse he held into the care of his companion,and approached. He made a dignified gesture of welcome and pointed to abasket on the ground.

  "Sid' Anstruther sends breakfast, Sidi. They drive the bush beyond thehill and the marsh. If you will refresh yourselves here you will avoidclimbing the hill to the camp. You can then take these horses and jointhe spears who wait at the tongue of the jungle in the plain."

  Aylmer slid to the ground.

  "It is well thought of, Absalaam," he said, and turned to explainmatters to his companion. The Moor beckoned forward his underling, whoquickly tethered the fresh horses to a broom stump and then led away theother two in the direction of the tents which gleamed white upon theslope a mile or so above them. Absalaam, meanwhile, was deftly settingout the meal in the shadow of the argan branches.

  The two began to eat and drink with appreciation but quickly. They didnot exchange much conversation; their attention, indeed, seemedconcentrated on matters outside sight but within hearing. For themuffled explosions continued and to them was added the sound ofchorussed and intermittent yells. But these last had not risen to anygreat pitch of excitement; no pig, or, at any rate, no boar, had as yetbeen sighted or had broken cover.

  Absalaam flitted to and fro handing dishes, changing plates, expressingby the vigilance of his attitude and actions the fact that he, too,appreciated the need for haste. His dark eyes beamed a sort of intensityof vigor; the pose of his head seemed to indicate that his ears werecritically alert to the purport of those distant shouts. But he offeredno comment till Aylmer pushed aside his plate and rose to his feet.

  "Your station, oh Sidis, will be at the far side of the point of jungle,between the marsh and the forest."

  Aylmer nodded, explained to Rattier, and swung himself into the saddle.

  "How many spears?" he asked laconically. The Moor held up the openfingers of one hand.

  "Four," he answered, "and a lady, who rides but does not carry a spear.It will be difficult with so few, but the Sidis will find the horses ofgood mettle and capable. Have I now your leave to go, oh Sidis? It isdesirable that I join the beaters."

  Aylmer made a curt motion of consent and looked round, with a tinge ofimpatience, for his companion. Rattier was daintily flicking a crumb ortwo from his khaki tunic and flapping his handkerchief at the dust onhis overalls. He mounted, at last, with a self-satisfied little shrug.He was prepared to meet the world's criticism, or this, at any rate, wasthe implication his shoulders conveyed.

  With an air that was deferential without being obsequious the Moorhanded each rider a long "under-arm" spear. The next instant they haddisappeared down the ragged track through the mimosa at a gallop.

  As they emerged into the open plain beyond the stretch of forest land,the yells in the jungle combined into a stentorian chorus. The hiddenmen shrieked, hollaed, rattled their staves, and in one or two instancesperformed excited fantasias with empty sardine tins. Up on the slope afurlong or two above Aylmer and his companion, a woman came suddenlyinto view, riding a dappled gray, and waving a handkerchief.

  They turned towards her as another rider, as yet unseen, cantered rounda thicket of broom in the same direction.

  The handkerchief was waved excitedly and the canter became a gallop.

  The mimosa crashed; the sun-dried lop of wild olive was splintered.Something dark, unwieldy, menacing, burst out of the undergrowth with aspeed which seemed preposterously out of proportion to its bulk. It fledacross the interval of sand which lay between the strip of forest behindit and the one from which Aylmer and Rattier had just emerged. Emotionperforated the latter's imperturbability. Speech escaped him.

  "But this is a monster!" he exclaimed. "The near relation of ahippopotamus!"

  The boar may have heard and certainly seemed to resent the criticism. Hejinked, wheeled from the direction which would have taken him slantinglytowards the other rider, and charged the commandant. Nothing daunted,the latter lowered his spear and galloped steadily forward.

  He did not attempt to lessen his speed to receive the shock. Had hisskill, indeed, been equal to his spirit, the result would never havebeen in doubt. But he held his spear at a "dropping" angle, whichdiscounted the force of speed behind it. The point, instead of meetingthe boar's chest in a line almost parallel with the ground, grazed hisjaw, brushed past his shoulder, and cut a shallow groove in his quarter.It turned the charge, but not far enough. The wicked eight-inch tusksflashed out in passing and gashed the horse's pastern. The gallop slowedinto a canter, blundered into a trot, and became a halting limp.

  The boar jinked again and Aylmer spurred in pursuit, hearing the hoofsof his rival's horse thundering jealously behind. He increased hisspeed, diminished the distance yard by yard, lowered his spear, thrust,and was nearly spilled from the saddle. With incredible quickness thehuge body had wheeled again as if on a pivot.

  The pursuers made a chorus of their vexation. Their impetuosity carriedthem a full forty yards past the line of the boar's retreat. They reinedin jerkily, and turned to see their quarry in full retreat up the hill.

  By good horsemanship Aylmer maintained and increased his lead, butwithout much hope of overhauling the chase before the thicket gave itshelter. The mimosa covert was a bare two furlongs distant. The onlychance lay in the boar being headed, and all the spears were,apparently, behind it. There remained nothing to do but to ride and ridehard.

  His horse responded bravely to the touch
of the spur but the sand wasloose and deep. He decreased very slightly the distance between pursuerand pursued, faltered once or twice, and began to show distress in hisbreathing. Aylmer told himself that, for the moment, the game was up.

  And then, with a whirl of flying drapery and gesticulating arms, a newrider shot into view on the brow of the slope. Absalaam, calling downinnumerable maledictions upon the ancestry of all jungle pigs, gallopeda tent pony between the boar and his refuge.

  His tactics were successful, but not in the direction which he haddesired. The brute wheeled, not down-hill towards the other riders, butslanting back and still upwards in the direction of Awara and the camp.

  As Aylmer swerved to follow, a cry startled him. He was suddenly awarethat the lady in white was riding slightly behind, but almost abreast ofhim. She was swathed in a sand veil, but her eyes were uncovered and theexpression in them was arresting. She was staring up the hill. Herglance told of anxiety, or even horror.

  He followed the direction of her gaze.

  Two figures appeared, both exactly in the line of the hunt. One, alsowhite clad, and running with uncertain feet, was evidently a child--aboy of six or seven years. He had distanced his pursuer, a fat andmiddle-aged Moor, who was menacing him with gesticulations of wrath andat the same time emitting supplicating cries. The youngster answered himwith triumphant little jeers, and continued his escape. At the samemoment both of them saw the approaching danger.

  The child halted, hesitated, and seemed to debate upon his action. Notso the Moor. With a howl of dismay he fled towards the undergrowth, hisyellow slippers twinkling against the dun background of the sand. And hecontinued to yell with whole-hearted despair; he woke the echoes withhis shrieks.

  About fifty yards separated Aylmer from the boar. The child was a fullfurlong distant. A sudden chill pulsed into, and gripped, the man'sheart as he realized the situation.

  Again the woman called aloud and smote her horse furiously across thewithers as she strove to urge it on. Taken by surprise the gray changedstep, stumbled, and nearly came down. With lowered spear Aylmer shotahead.

  The horse responded nobly to the need. The interval decreased. The boarwas thirty yards ahead--twenty--now no more than ten. The wicked littleeyes flung glances sideways; the bristling withers showed that almostimperceptible rippling motion which presages a "jink."

  Aylmer leaned down across his saddle, holding out the spear before himalmost by the butt. He was yet too far to get in a thrust. He could onlyhope to divert the brute's attention by a short, pricking stab. For thechild, now running with short, terrified strides, was immediately infront of the gleaming tusks.

  Aylmer lunged out.

  The point reached and entered the boar's flank. It squealed savagely,turned, blundered, and fell beneath the horse's hoofs. Aylmer felt theshock, the agonizing effort at recovery, the final thud of the fall. Thehorse tripped and rolled over; the spear was torn from the rider's grip.Aylmer ploughed a groove in the sand which landed him far out beyond thehuddle of flying limbs in which the white tusks were already workingviciously.

  He scrambled first to his knees and then to his feet. He looked around.The child was close to him, running now towards him. His hands wereoutstretched; he gave little panting cries.

  And then Aylmer experienced that curious cold sense of relaxation whichcomes to some men when the situation calls for instant effort. He sawthe child; he saw also the boar, slashing relentlessly a way out fromthe tangle of his horse's legs; he saw the horsewoman whose reins weretightening not twenty yards away. But here was no cause for hesitationor bewilderment. His mind, to himself, worked with a certain sense ofleisure. He stooped, caught up the child, placed him in the woman'sarms, and gave her horse a thrust of dismissal with his fist. As theflying hoofs scattered the sand upon his tunic, he turned to confronthis own plight without fear, with, indeed, nothing less than relief. Theabsorbing objective of the last two minutes being achieved, his mindhad not had time to review and interpret his own danger.

  The boar shook itself free of entanglement, snapped around at the woundin its flank, swayed a little and suddenly, malignantly, focussed itsgaze upon Aylmer. It gave a grunt of satisfaction, as it seemed. As ifthe tension of a hidden spring was released, it bounded forward.

  Aylmer looked at it as one looks at, and appraises, a picture. The senseof his own peril was in his mind, but latently. He understood theconsequences if the boar reached him, but, owing to some perverseenravelment of the brain, details absorbed him to the veiling of allelse. He noted with what excellent effect the crimson smear upon thedark flank shone out against the dull background of the sand. Herecognized the abnormal curl of the tusks, and debated to what angle thejaw must be slanted to deliver the ripping undercut which experiencetold him he would receive within a couple of seconds. He saw with a pangof regret that the shaft of his spear was broken; the splintered endprotruded from below the withers of the still struggling horse. Thus thepicture--which engrossed him.

  And then it was gone, blotted out. The thunder of hoofs, a rising cloudof sand, a dark, struggling mass, which was the boar upon its back. Therider whom he had distanced had passed and the spear had got home. Redwas the central spot of this picture, also, but no longer on the darkflank. It welled from the dying animal's chest in torrents.

  As he watched its struggles, the sense of hazard escaped came home tohim. Fear found room in his brain. He ran towards the broken spear,grasped it, turned to confront a peril which no longer menaced.

  A shudder shook the swaying body, the great thews relaxed. The boarpanted violently--once--twice. Then with a single sigh, very gently,very languidly, it sank upon the earth. And so lay still.

  As he stood staring down at it, a reaction against his tinge of panicmoved Aylmer to laughter. He began to giggle in little bubbling gasps ofmirth which were near relations of hysteria. Matters had gone so quicklythat his sense of proportion had been displaced. First perfectequanimity, then sudden and unfounded apprehension, now recoil. Oneshort minute had made ample room for all these among his emotions. Hefound laughter the only balm to his self-respect, for he was shiveringwith a Briton's uneasy sense of having been guilty of melodrama.

  His introspection was so intent that he failed to observe the return ofthe lady in white till her horse spurned the sand upon his riding boots.Then he wheeled alertly and looked up in her face. Her veil had dropped.

  She was clasping the child to her with the hand in which she gripped thereins. The other she held out to him.

  "You saved the boy!" she said, in a quick, panting whisper. "You savedhim!"

  _"You saved the boy!" she said, in a quick, pantingwhisper_]

  Aylmer took the proffered hand, lifted his hat, smiled, and recognizedthe lady of the pier.

  He hesitated a moment. He shrugged his shoulders.

  "No," he deprecated, and pointed to the other spear-man who was alreadywheeling to inspect his trophy. "Your thanks are due to our friendDespard, if anywhere."

  "No!" she contradicted vehemently. "Did I not see it? You weresacrificing yourself, doing it deliberately. And I shall never forgetit--never!"

  He smiled again. He looked at the child who sat silent on thesaddle-bow, staring down at him.

  "Still running away?" queried Aylmer, pleasantly. "Whither, this time?And what was the terrible hurry?"

  A guilty grin puckered the little man's lips.

  "I thought I knowed you; you're the man of--of yesterday," he shrilled."I was running from Selim. He wanted me to take siesta, but I did wishto be in the hunt."

  Aylmer nodded.

  "The usual trouble," he said. "We all want to be in--or, at any rate, tosee--the hunt. And we never pay any attention to Selims, worse luck.You'll learn more by experience, sonny."

  The child made a little gesture of protest.

  "That's not my name," he answered solemnly. "Mother calls me Jackanapes,or Jack. But I'm John, really, just John."

  "Just John," assented Aylmer. "Just John what?"
>
  "John Aylmer," said the boy and stared in surprise at his new friend'sstartled visage. But the other John Aylmer was not looking at hisnamesake. He was looking at the girl who held him.

  Her eyes answered the glance gravely, sternly, even defiantly, and insilence.

  "You?" cried Aylmer. "You are--?"

  She hesitated.

  "John's nurse," she said, looking him steadily in the face.