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Mundy, Talbot, 1879-1940

"The Winds of the World"


"Got to admit that babu's quite a huntsman!" he told himself,
beginning to hum. "One day, if the war doesn't account for me, I'll
come back and take a fall out of that babu. Hallo--what's that? Who
in thunder--who's waking up the horses at this unearthly hour? Sick
horse, I suppose. Why don't they get him out and let the others sleep?"
He began to hurry. A light in stables close to midnight was not to
be accounted for on any other supposition than an accident or serious
emergency, and if there were either it was his affair as adjutant to
know all the facts at once.
"What's going on in there?" he shouted in a voice of authority while
he was yet twenty yards away.
But there was no answer. He could hear a horse plunge, but nothing
more.
"Um-m-m! Horse cast himself!" he straightway decided.
But there was no cast horse, as he was aware the moment he had
looked down both long lines of sleepy brutes that whickered their
protest against interrupted sleep. At the far end he could see that
two men labored, and a big horse fiercely resented their unseasonable
attentions to himself. He walked down the length of the stable, and
presently recognized Bagh, Ranjoor Singh's charger.
"What are you grooming him for at this hour?" he demanded.
"It is an order, sahib."
"Whose order?"
"Ranjoor Singh sahib's order.


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