“I don’t suppose there is what _you_ call a porter nearer than Brindisi, and all the coolies are taking out the luggage. Allow me to help you.” In another second the young lady, who was both light and active, stood beside him on the line. She was English; she was tall; and she wore a hideously shaped country-made topee--that was all that he could make out in the dim light. “Now, shall we start?” he asked briskly, taking her bag, rug, and parasol. “Please let me have the bag,” she entreated. “I--I--that is to say, I would rather keep it myself. All my money is in it.” “And I may be a highwayman for what you know,” he returned, with a laugh. “I give you my word of honour that, if you will allow me to carry it, I will not rob you.” “I did not mean that,” she stammered. “Then what did you mean? At any rate _I_ mean to keep it. The other passengers are on ahead--I suppose you are quite alone?” “Almost. There is a servant in the train who is supposed to look after me, but I am looking after him, and seeing that he is not left behind at the different junctions. We cannot understand one word we exchange, so he grins and gesticulates, and I nod and point; but it all comes to nothing, or worse than nothing. I wanted some tea this morning, and he brought me whisky and soda.” “And have you no one to rely on but this intelligent attendant?” “No. The people I came out with changed at Khandala, and left me in charge of the guard, and in a through carriage to Allahabad; and of course we never expected this.” “So you have just come out from home?” he observed, as they walked along at a good pace. “Yes; arrived yesterday morning in the _Arcadia_.” “Then this is the first time you have actually set foot on Indian soil, for trains and gharries do not count?” “It is. Are there”--looking nervously at the wild expanse on either hand--“any tigers about, do you think?” “No, I sincerely hope not, as I have no weapon but your parasol. Joking apart, you are perfectly safe. This”--with a wave of the aforesaid parasol--“is not their style of hunting-ground.” “And what is their style, as you call it?” “Oh, lots of high grass and jungle, in a cattle country.” “Have you shot many tigers?” “Two last month. My friend and I had rather good sport down in Travancore.” “I suppose you live out here?” “No, I have only been about six months in the country.” “I wish _I_ had been six months in India.” “May I ask why?” “Certainly you may. Because I would be going home in six months more.” “And you only landed forty-eight hours ago! Surely you are not tired of it already. I thought all young ladies liked India. Mind where you are going! It is very dark here. Will you take hold of my arm?” “No, thank you,” rather stiffly. “Then my hand? You really had better, or you will come a most awful cropper, and trip over the sleepers.”