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selves on the verandah like two old crows, while the Minor others went hunting with the Prince again. They were Ailments to be back early. Mid morning we heard bang, bang, reverberating from their direction. They were surely having sport. Curse the luck. Noon time and they hadn't come back. Three o'clock and still no sign of them. I began to imagine all sorts of things.
Sabu was unhappy too. I heard a sob from the Sabu has his depths of a verandah chair. He had had no sugar in his Troubles coffee (our stores happened to be low). The cook had been unkind to him. (Poor cook!) And he ouched and writhed in bitterness of spirit as I applied iodine where an old scab was a little broken. Gone was all his yesterday's aplomb. Sabu was just a lonely, homesick, heartsick little boy.
At about four-thirty we went out along the road in Jungle the car. This is the time when everything begins to R°a" happen along the road and I love to be out in it. There is the never-ending wonder of the sheer numbers of the droves and droves of cattle, and goats as delicate as deer, with pointed horns and delicate hoofs that patter along the road like rain. They pour out from the jungle where they have been grazing all day. The herd girls and boys, mere children, stare out of big eyes and tousled heads. They dare the jungle and the jungle roads, I suppose, because there are so many of them. The same with the slow procession of the bullock carts, never-ending day and night.
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