part0020

June spent a restless night wooing slumber that would not come. She was worried. What would her father say if he knew what she had overheard? What would he say to her for not awakening him? What would he think about her secret thoughts?

A hundred such questions raced through her mind, nor could she find the answers as she turned and twisted under the smothering heat of the mosquito net. At last she fell into a troubled sleep and was awakened by the sounds of her father moving about in the dining room. She could hear him pumping the primus stove to make the hot water for their morning coffee. June got out of bed and hurried to assist him.

"I'm sorry I overslept, Dad", she began by way of apology, "it was very hot last night and I was restless until the early hours of morning".

"That's okay, Junie", her father replied kindly, "surely I can make the coffee once in a while. The heat didn't worry me and I slept soundly enough, although I thought I heard a car passing sometime during the night. Did you?"

June hesitated a moment, then replied evasively, "No…no Dad, I didn't hear anything. Perhaps you dreamt it".

"Perhaps", rejoined old Gardner with a chuckle, "but I doubt it. Not such a dream, anyhow".

After breakfast was over, June asked her father if he was using Tony that morning, and when he replied that he had some paper work to attend to, she said she wanted to go for a ride.

"I know how you feel about it, Dad", she added, "and I shall be very careful".

Dressed in her usual fashion in khaki shirt and breeches, and carrying her rifle, June mounted Tony and allowed him to amble down the road leading in the opposite direction to where she had had her adventure with the tiger.

It was sometime later that she became aware of her immediate surroundings. Tony was sauntering along the road unconcernedly, while the jungle enveloped them on both sides. The track went in an easterly direction and she had never been that way before.

Suddenly she noticed the tyre marks of a motor car on the ground below. June wondered if it was the same car whose occupants she had heard speaking the previous night. It must be. On an impulse, she decided to follow to find out where the car had gone.

Tony proceeded another mile when they negotiated a turn and the path entered a small clearing in the forest. June observed a dilapidated touring car standing to a side, partially concealed by bushes. Reining Tony in she considered what to do next.

She was by no means afraid and curiosity impelled her to find out something more. She allowed Tony to approach the car. It was deserted, nor could she see or hear anybody in the vicinity. June dismounted, tied Tony to a tree, and walked up to the car. She noticed it bore a Calicut number plate.

It appeared strange that a car should be left unattended in the jungle. Surely the driver must be somewhere. With this idea in mind she crossed the clearing and continued to walk along the footpath for a short distance on the other side.

Within a few paces she came to a banyan tree and was surprised to see two small, conical tents pitched beneath it. Not thinking of any danger, June approached them. She could hear the murmur of voices and came yet closer, hoping she would be able to make out what was being said.

Just then the figure of an Indian, clothed in a shirt overhanging a white dhoti, stepped outside. The man caught sight of her and stared in astonishment. For some reason, his expression struck her as being incongruously funny and she giggled in amusement.

In Malayalam he called aloud, obviously to some other person in the tent, "Come quickly, Chacko. We appear to have a visitor".

Immediately another Indian joined him. A lean individual—with sharp features and sharper eyes: He never hesitated for a moment, but strode towards June and grasped her firmly by the wrist with one hand. With the other he wrenched the rifle off her shoulder and swung it on to his own. Before she realised what was happening, June found herself being dragged into the smaller of the two tents.

"So; you're a spy?" hissed this second individual, "and have been listening to us. That's unfortunate indeed, for now we will kill you". The man spoke perfect English and his eyes glowered at her.

For some unaccountable reason, June was not afraid. She wondered what she should do. Last night she had almost decided to throw in her lot with these patriots. But now she was not quite so sure. Could she consider these men as her friends—as her own countrymen?

"I'm not a spy", June denied indignantly, "I came for a ride and happened to turn down this track. Seeing a deserted car, I was wondering whose it could be when I noticed your tents and came to investigate".

"Who are you?" Chacko asked irritably, "it's strange for one of your kind to wander about alone in a jungle".

"My name is June Gardner. I'm the daughter of the Range Officer who lives at the forest quarters".

"So!" Chacko again said the one word softly, but there was doubt and suspicion in his voice, while his face assumed a leering expression.

"So what?" June asked defiantly. "As a matter of fact, I heard you speaking to the Forest Guards last night".

Chacko seized her roughly by the shoulder. His hand trembled, "And I suppose you told your father about it?"

"You are wrong there. I did nothing of the kind, because…because…" June stopped speaking abruptly. She did not know how to express her feelings to this stranger.

"Because of what?" queried both men together.

She hesitated for a few seconds and then made up her mind to tell them. But before doing so, June decided to assert herself. She objected to being cross-questioner in this rude fashion. Above all, she resented being man-handled and pushed around.

"If you're gentlemen, you will offer a lady a seat and not keep me standing while you interrogate me. When you know how to behave, I shall explain my reason for not telling my father about your visit".

"I see. So you have become a lady?" There was a wealth of contempt in Chacko's voice. "When did that miracle occur?"

The blood rose to June's face as she realised the meaning of his words. The man had spoken plainly. He had deliberately intended to insult her. This Indian was saying, in other words, the same thing that Ruth Greystone had said just one day earlier. He was asking how she, June Gardner, a Eurasian and a half-breed, had suddenly become a lady to dare to call herself one.

Tears moistened her eyes as the thought soaked in.

"Damn you, you black swine!" The words tumbled from June's mouth in a rush as she shook her shoulder free from the man's grasp.

Chacko glared at her, too thunderstruck for words. Tiny beads of perspiration formed at his temples under the emotion of suppressed fury.

Then he slapped her. Once, twice and thrice. Hard.

The force of the blows sent June stumbling against the canvas wall of the tent. She covered her face with her hands and began to cry bitterly.