CHAPTER 13
The Picnic, so long looked forward to by the ladies, took place at last.. The ladies-Mrs Macgregor and her sandy-haired daughter, and Mrs Cooper with her two girls, all piled into a Morris Seven which belonged to the SP and which had the status of a Rolls-Royce in the district. Cartwright was asked to drive. His protests about lack of familiarity with the care were overruled.
The road on which they were driving was macadamised but not tarred. It was one of the best roads in the district and almost free of traffic except lumbering bullock carts which stayed off the road, using a deeply rutted track which ran parallel to it.
“How well you drive Mr Cartwright!”, said one of the Miss Coopers.
She was sitting on the front seat, between her mother and Cartwright, and squeezed against him, “Do you think so. I must admit, I hadn’t thought it would be quite so easy. This care is beauty.”
“Have you brought your parasols girls,” said Mrs Macgregor from the back, “don’t forget the sun is going to be as hot as ever.”
“But won’t we have the Chobdars to hold our umbrellas, mama?” Said Dorothy, Mrs Macgregor’s daughter.
“Of course you will, darling, but you never know with these natives. He may hold the
umbrella too high up, or his chaattri may be too small, and all that won’t do any good to your complexion.”
“I hope we are going to have ham sandwiches made out of real English ham, mama, as we had last time. You do like ham sandwiches Mr Cartwright, don’t you?” said Louisa Cooper, the fair-haired girl who was thought to be something of a beauty.
“Well, I much prefer vegetarian food. I rather think the climate favours it.”
“You don’t mean Indian food, surely Mr Cartwright, Oh! I just can’t stand it for the life of me, all those spices and greasy curries.” Mrs. Macgregor was quite emphatic.
“Well, I must admit I am rather fond of curry, even though it can upset your stomach at times.”
“Well, if you must have curry, be sure to drink plenty of water afterwards, or ou are sure to have bad dreams Mr Cartwright, “Mrs Cooper piped in.
“Bad dreams, How do you mean, bad dreams,”
The girls tittered at this, “Well, they say all spices and chillies that they put in the curry inflame your ..your … mind you know. So you feel hot and restless.”
The girls tittered again.
“I see,” said Cartwright, although he hadn’t the faintest notion what Mrs. Cooper meant, “Well, I hope they are not going to serve any curries today. I don’t want to have any bad dreams.”
The Country through which they were passing was still green, although it hadn’t rained for more than a few months. The shrubs and bushes had given way to an open forest with clumps of fine trees whose spreading crowns were still a vivid, luxuriant green. “Fine country this. And the weather inspire of the summer is not so bad, don’t you think so?” Cartwright’s remarks were not addressed to anyone in particular, but Mrs. Macgregor took them as a challenge.
“I see that you have made up your mind to be generous to all things Indian on principle. I think that’s very noble. Other wish, how can you, who are fresh from England and have seen the finest landscapes that one can imagine, find anything to like in this …. this dreary waste.”
“Oh, no, no, I really find this country rather pleasant you know.”
“Well, I call that very noble all the same. I wish I had had a chance to see the English country side in spring. “Oh! to be in England, now that April’s there’.”
“But we did get that picture post-card from Aunt Mabel mama, don’t remember. How lovely the flowers were.”
“All those phlox, and daisies and poppies and dahlias. Lovely they were.”
“Can’t we grow all these in our garden mama,” said Miss Macgregor?”
“You can dear, but won’t have the same colour, It’s the heat you know. Everything fades and wilts in it.”
They were passing a sal forest in full flower, the evergreen trees adorned with millions of tiny buff blossoms but except for Cartwright no one looked at them and he decided that he would keep his thoughts to himself. The fields gradually petered out as they took a right turn and started following a track that almost immediately entered the forest. This broad, flat, track was fairly level but in places ankle deep in soft red dust which rose in great clouds as the car passed over it. Windows were hurriedly wound up but some of the dust still got into the car, provoking Mrs Macgregor into a fit of coughing, and the other women inot a flurry of handkerchief waving and hand wringing.
“Oh God! What a country, first the heat and now the dust, I wish I had stayed at home. And to think I had been so looking forward to it.”
“Oh, mama!but it will be nice when we reach Dhowtea, won’t it mama.” Miss Macgregor was determined to enjoy hear self and did not want anyone to throw a damper into the processing.
Dhowtea arrived at last and turned out to be a pleasant sport indeed. It was a small forest glade through which flowed a purling stream. The water was cold and clear, the banks sported a growth of fresh green grass, and the great trees cast inviting on the turf. A retinue of servants, wearing turbans and their official uniforms was already waiting for the visitors. In the background were a group of villagers. In India crowds are never far away from people in authority, and business and pleasure can seldom be kept apart in the neat way in which they are in the west.
The Collector, the Superintendent of Police and the District Forest Officer were already present, having set out in a police vehicle earlier. As the car stopped the Collector came forward to open the door but he was forestalled by two liveried servants who made a positive dash for the doors. The British custom of opening doors for women and standing up when one entered a room was so alien to most Indians that they forgot that the British made a point of observing these niceties, especially before their subjects. But the ladies certainly preferred the bowing and scraping of the servants.
“Ah, so there you are Dorothea. Hello girls! Had a nice ride?” Macgregor was bluff and hearty. And it was his car that they were driving.
“Yes, indeed papa, thanks to Mr Cartwright. He drives so well.”
“God for you old boy. So you did enjoy the ride, eh!”
Macgregor’s tone was almost conspiratorial.
“I did indeed. Nice car, pleasant country.”
“And pleasant company too eh!”
“Yes indeed.”
The servants had already unpacked three there large hampers and laid out their contents on a small table that had been placed at one side. There were cans of ham, salted beef, jams and jellies of all kinds. Sandwiches were arranged neatly in a shallow salver with a white serviette placed under them. A little stove was being furiously pumped by one servant, because the memsahibs would want tea, and the ritual of boiling the water and then making the decoction must not, be delayed when the time came for it. The crowd lingered in the distance as folding deck chairs were set out for the whole company, and everyone sat down after helping themselves to the refreshments.
“Can’t we shoo them away mama,” said Miss Macgregor pointing to the crowd which was getting bigger by the moment.
“Let them remain my dear. It is probably the year’s best entertainment for them. “Said the Collector.
“You will have to put up with them Louisa,” said Mrs Macgregor. “You know how they are when it comes to white people. If you shoo them away they will hide behind the bushes and still continue to peep at us.”
“Goldfish in a bowl. That’s the existence of the district officer before the natives, as I always say.” Said the SP, “but there is a way of getting them off” our backs, and that is by scaring them. The only thing that can get the better for their curiosity is fear. Let me show you how it is done.”
“Macgregor, we have enough trouble on our hands as it is, “said the Collector with rising alarm.
“Oh, this is only a bit of fun really. Saunders!” he yelled at the Eurasian Reserve Inspector, who was hovering in the background, immaculately turned out in sharply creased khaki shorts and knee-length stockings.
“Sir!”
“Bring Jasper out and get me a ball.” Jasper was the SP’s bulldog, a large sleek beast with the typical jowly look of his breed. The SP flung the ball as far as he could towards the crowd for onlookers and jasper was let loose. “Now watch the fun.
Jasper went bounding after the ball, enjoying his sudden freedom and barking joyously and the crowd fled helter-skelter at his approach. The dog was back with the ball within a few minutes, but by that time the crowd had gone. “What did I tell you, they are cowards, every man-jack of them.”
“Want another shy at it Jasper, do you.Well, get cracking again old boy,” the SP again threw the ball as hard he could. The ball seemed to land in a clump of bushes and was lost to view as Jasper went haring after it and also disappeared in the shrubbery. Minutes passed, but there was no sign of Jasper. “Jasper, come back you bone chewing old son of a gun.” yelled Macgregor, but still no Japes. “Where can the fellow have got to, blast it, Go and look for him, will you Sunders !”
Saunders trotted off obediently but was back after a few minutes. “No sign of him sir.”
“Well, he can’t have just disappeared into disappeared into thin air, dash it, He must have gone after some of these pariah dogs, take it from me. Still, must go and look for him I suppose.” The SP was getting worried about his dog. Will you come along Cartwight.”
As Cartwirght was getting up to go a Korku was seen in the distance, coming up to them at a steady run. He soon arrived and stood panting for a while. The policemen who were on the sport surrounded him immediately. “It’s about the Sahib’s dog.”
“What about him, come on, tell me quick.”
“A panther, a panther carried him off sahib, I saw him with my own eyes.”
“Come on Cartwright, we have not a minute to lose.” A gun was put into his hands and a small party consisting of the SP, the RI and Cartwright were off in hot pursuit. The Korku first led them to a spot where Jasper had obviously put up something of a fight. The dust on the spot had been churned up and there were splashes of blood on a lantana bust. Thereafter all that could be seen sere the splayed out pug marks of panther, visible occasionally in dusty hollows. But the Korku had no trouble in following the trail. Every once in a while he would point out a faint smear of blood on a bush growing alongside the track, or an indistinct pug mark in the sandy bed of the track. The trail was leading them deeper and deeper into the forest, towards the base of the mountains. It was clear that they were close on the heels of the panther, because the Korku was getting quite excited and once he even showed them some blades of grass which had been bent down by the weight of the panther’s pads springing erect.
“Can’t far off now. Lucky we got this little beggar to lead us on eh! Cartwright.”
“You mean the Korku, yes, I have ready they are very good at jungle lore.”
By jingo, if old Jasper is dead the brute dead the brute that killed him will have to pay a price. Just let me set eyes on the devil,I will blast him to smithereens.”
They had walked many miles in the jungle and were now close to the base of the mountains. They saw a man, standing on a little knoll, leaning on a stick. The knell gave him a ringside view of the whole proceedings. “Did you see a leopard, you there?” Shouted the SP, inhis usual gruff police manner. His loud voice would have scared away any wild animal, had it been nearby.
“No sir,” said the stranger politely.
The SP looked hard at him. He had a dim recollection of having seen the man before. “Who are you?” He barked at the stranger.
“Me sir?”
“Yes you, I am not speaking to the rocks. You are not a local.”
But just then Korku pointed to a rocky outcrop in the middle distance. On top of the heap of large boulders was the panther with the limp form of Jasper still champed in his jaws. The SP aligned his Holland & Holland. 375 rifle on the panther, but before he could fire the beast disappeared behind some rocks. They were off in pursuit again.
The panther led them on. The trail soon went down into a ravine with precipitous sides, overgrown with nettles and thorny lantana bushes. To get to the bottom they had to make a detour and come down the far side, which had a gentler slope. The sun was going down when the reached the far side and sprinted down the slope with Macgregor egging them on.
It was quite dusky when they reached the bottom of the ravine. They were walking down a narrow path in a single file when a small movement in a bush caught their eye. The bush was same way up the side of the ravine, and the sinking sun was shining full on it. The movement that had attracted their attention was the panther’s tail, whose tip was twitching as it stuck out of the bush. The SP did not wait. He raised his rifle and fired a couple of rounds into the bush. The heavy bullets stuck the rock and ricocheted off and the crack of the big rifle filled the ravine with its reverberations. The panther tired of its chase, gave up its kill and raced up the ravine to disappear over the rim once again. The SP fired off one more shot after the beast, more in frustration than in any hope of hitting the panther. “Well, looks like we will have to let the bastard get away. Too dark to continue the chase. But at least we have Jasper.”
Jasper’s dead body was collected from the spot and put into a sheet by Saunders, with as much reverence as if he was picking up a dead comrade from the field of battle. Next day, Jasper was buried in a corner of the SP’s bungalow. The bugler played the last post and a plaque was put up over the grave which read, “Here lies Japser, the best friend that man ever had.”
