his wife."

"What is a Resident, exactly?"

"A Political Officer appointed by the Government of India to be a sort
of adviser to a rajah and to keep a check on him if he rules his State
badly. I shouldn't imagine that our fellow here, Major Norton, would be
much good as an adviser to anybody. The only thing he seems to know
anything about is insects. He's quite a famous entomologist. Personally
he's not a bad sort, but a bit of a bore."

"What's his wife like?"

"Oh, very different. Much younger and fond of gaiety, I think. Not that
she can get any here. She's a decidedly pretty woman. I haven't seen
much of her; for she has been away most of the time, that the regiment
has been here. She has relatives in Calcutta and stays a lot with them."

"I don't blame her," said Wargrave, laughing. "Rohar must be a very
deadly place for a young woman. No amusements. No dances. No shops. And
the only female society the wives of the Colonel and the Doctor."

"Luckily for Mrs. Norton she is rather keen on sport and is a good
rider. You'll probably meet her to-day; for she generally comes out
pigsticking with us, though she doesn't carry a spear. I've promised to
take her shooting with us the next time we go. Hullo! here are the
ponies at last. Are you ready, Frank?"

The two officers rose, as their _syces_, or native grooms, came up
before the bungalow leading two ponies, a Waler and an Arab. Raymond
walked over to the bundle of spears and selected one with a leaf-shaped
steel head.

"Try this, Frank," he said. "See if it suits you. You don't want too
long a spear."

His companion balanced it in his hand.

"Yes, it seems all right. I say, old chap, how does one go for the pig?
Do you thrust at him?"

"No; just ride hard at him with the spear pointed and held with
stiffened arm. Your impetus will drive the steel well home into him."

Mounting their ponies they started, the _syces_ carrying the spears and
following them at a steady run as they trotted down the sandy road
leading to the city, where at the Palace they were to meet the Maharajah
and the other sportsmen. The sky was paling fast at the coming of the
dawn; and they could discern the dozen bungalows and the Regimental
Lines, or barracks, comprising the little cantonment, above which
towered the dark mass of a rocky hill crowned by the ruined walls of an
old native fort. On either side of their route the country was flat and
at first barren. But, as they neared