174 AFOOT THROUGH THE 



taste life in our great Eastern possession, and shove on 

 the weighty wheels of empire. 



"Dull those Indian chaps are," is the remark 

 one hears too often at home; "the only thing 

 they know anything about is that beastly country, 

 and even that they won't talk of." And no 

 one realises that these men, rushing home for their 

 precious ninety days' leave, cannot make " small talk " 

 of what is the one reality of their lives. It is easier for 

 them to pretend to the home folk that life in India is a 

 mere ante-chamber, a waiting for the real thing, which 

 will only begin when frock coats and top hats are once 

 more donned and the London pavements are under foot, 

 a period of pony riding and big game shooting, saun- 

 tered through, while a vast fortune is accumulating, 

 which will enable the happy possessor to return and 

 enjoy himself in the land of his fathers. 



If any of the home folks do come out it is 

 for a cold weather tour, and they kindly accept 

 the best room in the bungalow, ride the only 

 trained pony in the stable, lounge in the most com- 

 fortable chairs, and chaff lightly about the small duties 

 and large pay of an Indian official. They do not 

 understand the silence about the other seasons of 

 the year, that there is a terrible dark tunnel called 

 the hot weather, which men do not care to think of 

 when once passed through, that there are days of long- 

 drawn tension when plague or famine duties demand 

 all attention, and it is useless to speculate whether heat, 

 apoplexy, or sunstroke will give the final quietus, 

 because no speculation can stave it off, and meanwhile 

 some one must see the work done. It is easy, no doubt, 

 when at home to talk of the joys of early retirement, 



