Captain Desmond, V.C. Part 11

"d.a.m.nation!" Desmond muttered, as he fell to the ground, and Sher Dil staggered, panting, to his feet.

Rajinder Singh sprang forward with a smothered cry. But, quick as lightning, Desmond was up again, and had secured the morsel of rope dangling by the horse's head. Only his left arm hung limp and helpless, the droop of the shoulder telling its own tale.

"Collar-bone," he said laconically, in reply to the mute anxiety of Paul's face. "Same old spot again!"

"It might just as well have been--your head," Paul answered, with a twist of his sensitive mouth. He had not quite got over his few moments of acute suspense.

Desmond laughed.

"So it might, you old pessimist! But it wasn't! Here you are, Ressaldar Sahib! Never have I seen a horse so set on killing himself.

But it was needful to disappoint him on your account."

Rajinder Singh, who had come forward, plucking the muslin scarf from his shoulders for a bandage, saluted in acknowledgment of the words.

"How is it possible to make thanks, Hazur...?"

Desmond laid a hand on the man's shoulder.

"No need of thanks," said he. "This fine fellow hath already thanked me in his own rough fas.h.i.+on, clapping me on the shoulder,--forgetful of his great strength,--because he had no power to say 'Shahbas.h.!.+'"

The old Sikh shook his head slowly, a great tenderness in his eyes.

"Such is the gracious heart of the Captain Sahib, putting a good face even upon that which is evil. Permit, at least, that we make some manner of bandage till it be possible to find the Doctor Sahib."

It was permitted; and the useless arm having been strapped into place, Wyndham insisted upon his friend's departure; a fiat against which Desmond's impetuous protests were launched in vain. For, like many men of habitually gentle bearing, Paul Wyndham's firmness was apt to be singularly effective on the rare occasions when he thought it worth while to give proof of its existence.

"I'll ride back with you myself," he announced, in a tone of finality, "and go on to the Mess for Mackay afterwards. The worst is over now, and you'll only let yourself in for a demonstration if your men find out that any harm has come to you." The diplomatic suggestion had the desired effect; and they rode leisurely back to the bungalow, under a moon no longer robbed of its radiance.

Few words pa.s.sed between them as they went; but on arriving at the squat, blue gate-posts Wyndham drew rein and spoke.

"Good-night, dear old chap. Take a stiff 'peg' the minute you get in.

I'm in need of one myself."

"Sorry if I gave you a bit of a shock, old man," Desmond answered smiling, and rode at a foot's pace toward the house.

"Here I am, Ladybird!" he announced, on entering the drawing-room; and Evelyn, springing from the depths of his chair, made an eager movement towards him.

But at sight of his bandaged arm and damp dishevelled appearance she halted with lips apart. A curious coldness crept into her eyes and entirely banished the young look from her face.

"Theo--you're hurt--you've broken something."

"Well, and if I have?" he answered laughing. "It's a mere nothing.

Only a collar-bone."

"Your collar-bone isn't nothing. And I can't _bear_ to see you all hideous and bandaged up like that. I knew something would happen! I was sure it would!"

The light of good-humour faded from his eyes.

"Well, well, if you knew it all beforehand, no need to make so many words about it now. Let me sit down. It's been stifling work and--I'm tired."

He sank into the chair and closed his eyes, his face grown suddenly weary. His wife drew near to him slowly, with more of pained curiosity than of solicitude in her face, and laid a half-reluctant hand on the arm of his chair.

"Does it hurt, Theo?" she asked softly.

"Nothing to bother about. Mackay will be here soon."

"Won't you tell us how it happened?"

"There's not much to tell, Ladybird. Rajinder Singh's charger kicked me while I was cutting his head-rope--that's all. The good old chap was quite upset because I wouldn't let him do it himself."

"Well, I think you _ought_ to have let him. It wouldn't have mattered half so much if _he_----"

"That's enough, Evelyn!" the man broke out in a flash of genuine anger. "If you're only going to say things of that sort, you may as well hold your tongue."

And once again he closed his eyes, as if in self-defence against further argument or upbraiding.

His wife stood watching him with a puzzled frown, while Honor, a keenly interested observer, wondered what would happen next.

Her sympathy, as always, inclined to the man's point of view. But a pa.s.sionate justness, very rare in women, forced her to acknowledge that Evelyn's remonstrance, if injudicious, was not unjustifiable. The girl saw clearly that the sheer love of danger for its own sake, which Frontier life breeds in men of daring spirit, had impelled Desmond to needless and inconsiderate risk; saw also that his own perception of the fact added fire to his sharp retort.

He stirred at length, with an uneasy s.h.i.+fting of the damaged shoulder.

"This bandage is hideously uncomfortable," he said in a changed tone.

"Could you manage to untie it and fix it up more firmly till Mackay comes?"

Thus directly appealed to, Evelyn cast a nervous glance at Honor. The girl made neither sign nor movement, though her hands ached to relieve the discomfort of the wounded man; and after a perceptible moment of hesitation, Evelyn went to Desmond's side, her heart fluttering like the heart of a prisoned bird.

With tremulous fingers she unfastened the knot behind his shoulder, and, having done so, rested her hand inadvertently on the broken bone.

It yielded beneath her touch, and she dropped the end of the bandage with a little cry.

"Oh, Theo, it _moved_! I can't touch it again! It's ... it's horrible!"

Her husband stifled an exclamation of pain and annoyance.

"Could _you_ do it for me, Honor?" he asked. "It can hardly be left like this?"

She came to him at once, and righted the bandage with deft, unshrinking fingers, rolling part of the long scarf into a pad under his arm to ease the aching shoulder.

"Thank you," he said. "That's first-rate."

And as he shouted for a much-needed "peg," Honor pa.s.sed quietly out of the room.

Evelyn remained standing a little apart, watching her husband with speculative eyes. Then she came and stood near him, on the side farthest from the alarming bone that moved at a touch.

"I'm sorry, Theo. Are you very cross with me?"

Her lips quivered a little, and the pallor of her face caught at his heart.