collector
of Pegnugger, who was enchanted, not having heard a note of music for
months.

"Oh, sometimes," he answered. "I think I could sing 'Drink to me only
with thine eyes'--do you know it?" He began to play the melody on the
guitar while he spoke.

"Rather--I should think so!" Kildare was heard to say. He was beginning
to think the concert had lasted long enough.

"Oh, do sing it, Mr. Isaacs," said the young girl, "and my brother and I
will join in. It will be so pretty!"

It certainly sounded very sweetly as he gave the melody in his clear,
high tones, and Miss Westonhaugh and John sang with him. Having heard it
several thousand times myself, I was beginning to recognise the tune
well enough to enjoy it a good deal.

"That is very nice," said Kildare, who was sorry he had made an
impatient remark before, and wanted to atone.

"Eh? what? how's that?" said Mr. Ghyrkins just waking up. "Oh! of
course. My niece sings charmingly. Quite an artist, you know." And he
struggled out of his chair and said it was high time we all went to bed
if we meant to shoot straight in the morning. The magistrate of
Pegnugger concurred in the opinion, and we reluctantly separated for the
night to our respective quarters, Isaacs and I occupying a tent
together, which he had caused to be sent on from Delhi, as being
especially adapted to his comfort.

On the following day at dawn we were roused by the sound of
preparations, and before we were dressed the voices of Mr. Currie
Ghyrkins and the collector were heard in the camp, stirring up the
sleepy servants and ordering us to be waked. The two old sportsmen felt
it their duty to be first on such an occasion as this, and in the calm
security that they would do everything that was right, Isaacs and I
discussed our tea and fruit--the _chota haziri_ or "little breakfast"
usually taken in India on waking--sitting in the door of our tent, while
Kiramat Ali and Narain and Mahmoud and the rest of the servants were
giving a final rub to the weapons of the chase, and making all the
little preparations for a long day. And we sat looking out and sipping
our tea.

In the cool of the dawn Miss Westonhaugh came tripping across the wet
grass to where her uncle was giving his final directions about the
furnishing of his howdah for the day; a lovely apparition of freshness
in the gray morning, all dressed in dark blue, a light pith
helmet-shaped hat pressing the rebellious white-gold hair almost ou