‘Let me assure you,’ said the Major, ‘that it is a most pleasant change. I am tired of soldiering, and my health is indifferent. I almost think that if I could fish out this old uncle of mine, I should be content to settle in the bush, and take to rural life for the rest of my days.’
‘Don’t you think you would find it awfully dull?’ said Annabel; ‘you would despise all our life so much. Unless there happened to be an outbreak of bushrangers, you might never have a chance of killing any one again, as long as you lived.’
‘I could manage without that excitement. I have had enough, in all conscience, to last a lifetime. The climate of your country suits us old Indians so well. If I were once fairly established, I think I could rear horses and cattle, especially the former, with great contentment.’
‘There is no one of your name in this part of the country,’ said Guy, ‘except our old stock-rider, Tom. He’s such a queer old fellow. I remember asking him what his surname was one day, and he told me it was Glendinning. He’s away now, mustering at Wangarua.’
‘It is not an uncommon name where my family lived,’ said the Major. ‘I should like to see him if he is a namesake. He may have heard of the person I am in search of.’
The whole party was extremely sorry to permit their guests to depart; but after a few days spent in luxurious intercourse, during which sight-seeing and sport were organised day by day, and every imaginable book and author reviewed with Mr. Kinghart in the evening, while Guy had fully made up his mind to go to India, and had got up Indian history from the Mogul dynasty to the execution of Omichund, a parting had to be made. It was only temporary, however, as Mr. Kinghart had promised to visit an old schoolfellow long settled at Monaro, and after a fortnight’s stay had promised to return this way with the Major before they said farewell finally. At Warbrok Chase there was great dismay at the inevitable separation.
‘I declare,’ said Annabel, ‘that I begin to doubt whether it is prudent to make such delightful acquaintances. One is so dreadfully grieved when they depart. It is much better to have everyday friends, who can’t run away, isn’t it?’
‘And who mightn’t be much missed if they did; quite so, Miss Annabel,’ said Forbes, to whom this lament was made.