nnandale. Two men were riding behind
them, who proved to be Mr. Currie Ghyrkins and Mr. John Westonhaugh. The
latter was duly introduced to us; a quiet, spare man, with his sister's
features, but without a trace of her superb colour and animal spirits.
He had the real Bombay paleness, and had been steamed to the bone
through the rains. As we were introduced, Isaacs started and said
quickly that he believed he had met Mr. Westonhaugh before.

"It is possible, quite possible," said that gentleman affably,
"especially if you ever go to Bombay."

"Yes--it was in Bombay--some twelve years ago. You have probably
forgotten me."

"Ah, yes. I was young and green then. I wonder you remember me." He did
not show any very lively interest in the matter, though he smiled
pleasantly.

Miss Westonhaugh must have been teasing Lord Steepleton, for he looked
flushed and annoyed, and she was in capital spirits. We turned to go
back with the party, and by a turn of the wrist Isaacs wheeled his horse
to the side of Miss Westonhaugh's, a position he did not again abandon.
They were leading, and I resolved they should have a chance, as the path
was not broad enough for more than two to ride abreast. So I furtively
excited my horse by a touch of the heel and a quick strain on the curb,
throwing him across the road, and thus producing a momentary delay, of
which the two riders in front took advantage to increase their distance.
Then we fell in, Mr. Ghyrkins and I in front, while the dejected Kildare
rode behind with Mr. John Westonhaugh. Ghyrkins and I, being heavy men,
heavily mounted, controlled the situation, and before long Isaacs and
Miss Westonhaugh were a couple of hundred yards ahead, and we only
caught occasional glimpses of them through the trees as they wound in
and out along the path.

"What are those youngsters talking about, back there? Tigers, I'll be
bound," said Mr. Ghyrkina to me. Sure enough, they were.

"What do you suppose I found when we got back this afternoon, Mr.
Griggs? Why, this hair-brained young Kildare has been proposing to my
niece----" his horse stumbled, but recovered himself in a moment.

"You don't mean it," said I, rather startled.

"Oh no, no, no. I don't mean that at all. Ha! ha! ha! very good, very
good. No, no. Lord Steepleton wants us all to go on a tiger-hunt to
amuse John, and he proposes--ha! ha!--really too funny of me--that Miss
Westonhaugh should go with us."

"I suppose you have no objec