way to affect our society and declare the warmest friendship for us."

The Rajah was laughing and talking with General Wheeler and the group of
officers round his carriage.

Again Isobel raised the glasses. "You are right, Doctor," she said, "I
don't like him."

"Well, there is one comfort, it doesn't matter whether he is sincere
or not, he is powerless to hurt us. I don't see any motive for his
pretending to be friendly if he is not, but I own that I should like him
better if he sulked and would have nothing to say to us, as would be the
natural course."

The bell now began to ring, and the native police cleared the course.
Major Hannay and Mr. Hunter, who had driven over in the buggy, came up
and took their places on the box of the carriage.

"Here are cards of the races," he said. "Now is the time, young ladies,
to make your bets."

"I don't know even the name of anyone in this first race," Isobel said,
looking at the card.

"That doesn't matter in the least, Miss Hannay," Wilson, who had just
come up to the side of the carriage, said. "There are six horses in; you
pick out any one you like, and I will lay you five pairs of gloves to
one against him."

"But how am I to pick out when I don't know anything about them, Mr.
Wilson? I might pick out one that had no chance at all."

"Yes; but you might pick out the favorite, Miss Hannay, so that it is
quite fair."

"Don't you bet, Isobel," her uncle said. "Let us have a sweepstake
instead."

"What is a sweepstake, uncle?"

There was a general laugh.

"Well, my dear, we each put in a rupee. There are six of us, and there
are Wilson and the Doctor. You will go in, Doctor, won't you?"

"Yes; I don't mind throwing away a rupee, Major."

"Very well, that makes eight. We put eight pieces of paper in the hat.
Six of them have got the names of the horses on, the other two are
blank. Then we each pull out one. Whoever draws the name of the horse
that wins takes five rupees, the holder of the second two, and the third
saves his stake. You shall hold the stakes, Mrs. Hunter. We have all
confidence in you."

The slips were drawn.

"My horse is Bruce," Isobel said.

"There he is, Miss Hannay," Wilson, who had drawn a blank, said, as
a horse whose rider had a straw colored jacket and cap came cantering
along the course. "This is a race for country horses--owners up.
That means ridden by their owners. That is Pearson of the 13th Native
Cavalry. He brought the h