CHAPTER I.

DESPOILED.

"It would seem, Greenall, as if you couldn't even shoot."

"It would seem like it, wouldn't it."

As I sauntered back to the hotel I was conscious of a slight feeling of exacerbation. As if I had been "got at," "had." No man likes to feel that he is a laughing-stock. I felt that I had been made a laughing-stock just then; that, indeed, the process of manufacture had been going on ever since I showed my face in Ahmednugger. The men I had met were nice enough--in their way. Indeed, they were almost too nice--also in their way. They appeared to have so little to do, in the way of actual work, that they had made it the business of their lives to perfect themselves in what are usually regarded, say, as accomplishments. I was, and am, a plain civilian. I have worked for, and earned, my little pile, such as it is, and until I set out upon that pleasure tour in the East, it had never occurred to me that a man could be regarded as an uneducated idiot if he could not, say, run into double figures every time he took up his cue at billiards. A suspicion that a man might be so regarded had been dawning upon me ever since I arrived in India; but until I came to Ahmednugger I had never quite realised how shockingly my education had been neglected on exactly those points on which it ought to have been most carefully attended to. The men of Ahmednugger were the most sporting individuals I had ever yet encountered. Possibly I have not moved much among the congregations of the sporting men, but I certainly have seen something of men of business. These men of Ahmednugger were not only the keenest sportsmen I had encountered, they were the keenest men of business, too. And talk of the rigour of a competitive examination! They formed themselves into an examining board, which very soon took the "stiffening" out of me. They insisted on putting me through my paces before I had been a week in the place. They examined me in every game of cards which has been invented--and found me wanting in them all. They examined me as a rider, as a driver, as a shootist, as a cueist, in fact, in a range of subjects which I will not even venture to enumerate. They refused me one solitary "pass." They "plucked" me in them all. It did not add to my sense of satisfaction, that I found my ignorance expensive.

The joke of the thing was, that before I came to India I had rather fancied myself as an amateur sportsman. I flattered myself that I had a decent seat in a saddle, whether across country or on the flat. I thought that I made a tolerable fourth at whist; that I had some notion, at any rate, of English billiards, and of a hazard off the red. I certainly was under the impression that I could see with tolerable accuracy along the barrel of a gun. But these vain delusions were scattered, at once and for ever, by the men of Ahmednugger. My all-round, purblind, insensate ignorance had been so convincingly displayed, that, as I have said, I was the laughing-stock of all the place.

My latest performance in the exhibition line had been in a match with young Tebb, the youngest and the latest joined of the subalterns. Young Tebb had lured me on to skittles. Mr. Tebb--who would have been more correctly designated as "Master" Tebb--was an awkward hobbledehoy, who, at any other place than Ahmednugger, I should have looked down upon with the most supreme contempt. When he challenged me to see who could smash most glass balls with a rifle bullet, he or I, I rashly took his challenge up. I flattered myself that, at last, I had a "soft thing" on. I had, myself, been found a "soft thing" so many times, that I looked forward to a little change. I had no notion (it was rather late at night when the challenge was thrown down, and taken up) how difficult it really was to hit a glass ball with a rifle bullet. I had never fired at a glass ball, nor had I ever seen anyone else do so. But I conceived, that at any rate, young Tebb would find at least as much difficulty in the thing as I should.

We were each to fire at fifty glass balls, which were to be sent up into the air out of a trap. We were, of course, to fire at them while they were in the air. Out of my fifty I smashed one. Out of his fifty young Tebb smashed forty-nine. It was the most mirth-provoking exhibition that was ever seen. Of course, the young scoundrel had been doing nothing else but fire at glass balls his whole life long. It was when I handed over the two hundred rupees which I had staked and lost, that Mr. Tebb made his remark to the effect that "I couldn't even shoot."

When I returned to the hotel, a man was standing in the doorway. He addressed me as I came up the steps.

"It strikes me that you and I might shake hands, sir."

I asked him what he meant.

"I've made myself one kind of ass, and you've made yourself another kind. We'd be a pair of beauties."

I did not like being addressed in this manner, especially by a stranger, and especially by a stranger like this stranger. He was a short, undersized man, with a vacuous expression of countenance. His attire suggested seediness. Perceiving that I did not appreciate his manner, he explained.

"No offence intended, sir. But I just now saw you playing pantaloon to that youngster's clown, and I thought that he made the end of the poker rather hot. As for me, I'm an ass all over. My name's Johns. I came to this place to shear the sheep. There's been some shearing, but it's the sheep that's done it. They've about sheared me. I happened to have a trifle of money, so I came to these parts to see if I could do a bit of bookmaking. I've done a bit. The gentlemen in these parts have also done a bit. They've got hold of pretty well every blessed mag I had."

I did not encourage Mr. Johns; quite the contrary. I had heard of him before. The regimental races had recently been held; a bookmaker had appeared upon the scene--Mr. Johns. Nearly every man in the place had had bets with him, and to nearly every man in the place he had lost his money. With a vengeance had the Philistine been spoiled.