Cupid's Arrows
Pit where the buffalo cooled his hide,
By the hot sun emptied, and blistered and dried;
Log in the reh-grass, hidden and alone;
Bund where the earth-rat's mounds are strown:
Cave in the bank where the sly stream steals;
Aloe that stabs at the belly and heels,
Jump if you dare on a steed untried--
Safer it is to go wide--go wide!
Hark, from in front where the best men ride:--
"Pull to the off, boys! Wide! Go wide!"
The Peora Hunt.
Once upon a time there lived at Simla a very pretty girl, the
daughter of a poor but honest District and Sessions Judge. She was
a good girl, but could not help knowing her power and using it.
Her Mamma was very anxious about her daughter's future, as all good
Mammas should be.
When a man is a Commissioner and a bachelor and has the right of
wearing open-work jam-tart jewels in gold and enamel on his
clothes, and of going through a door before every one except a
Member of Council, a Lieutenant-Governor, or a Viceroy, he is worth
marrying. At least, that is what ladies say. There was a
Commissioner in Simla, in those days, who was, and wore, and did,
all I have said. He was a plain man--an ugly man--the ugliest man
in Asia, with two exceptions. His was a face to dream about and
try to carve on a pipe-head afterwards. His name was Saggott--
Barr-Saggott--Anthony Barr-Saggott and six letters to follow.
Departmentally, he was one of the best men the Government of India
owned. Socially, he was like a blandishing gorilla.
When he turned his attentions to Miss Beighton, I believe that Mrs.
Beighton wept with delight at the reward Providence had sent her in
her old age.
Mr. Beighton held his tongue. He was an easy-going man.
Now a Commissioner is very rich. His pay is beyond the dreams of
avarice--is so enormous that he can afford to save and scrape in a
way that would almost discredit a Member of Council. Most
Commissioners are mean; but Barr-Saggott was an exception. He
entertained royally; he horsed himself well; he gave dances; he was
a power in the land; and he behaved as such.
Consider that everything I am writing of took place in an almost
pre-historic era in the history of British India. Some folk may
remember the years before lawn-tennis was born when we all played
croquet. There were seasons before that, if you will believe me,
when even croquet had not been invented, and archery--which was
revived in England in 1844--was as great a pest as lawn-tennis is
now. People talked learnedly about "holding" and "loosing,"
"steles," "reflexed bows," "56-pound bows," "backed" or "self-yew
bows," as we talk about "rallies," "volleys," "smashes," "returns,"
and "16-ounce rackets."
Miss Beighton shot divinely over ladies' distance--60 yards, that
is--and was acknowledged the best lady archer in Simla. Men called
her "Diana of Tara-Devi."
Barr-Saggott paid her great attention; and, as I have said, the
heart of her mother was uplifted in consequence. Kitty Beighton
took matters more calmly. It was pleasant to be singled out by a
Commissioner with letters after his name, and to fill the hearts of
other girls with bad feelings. But there was no denying the fact
that Barr-Saggott was phenomenally ugly; and all his attempts to
adorn himself only made him more grotesque. He was not christened
"The Langur"--which means gray ape--for nothing. It was pleasant,
Kitty thought, to have him at her feet, but it was better to escape
from him and ride with the graceless Cubbon--the man in a Dragoon
Regiment at Umballa--the boy with a handsome face, and no
prospects. Kitty liked Cubbon more than a little. He never
pretended for a moment the he was anything less than head over
heels in love with her; for he was an honest boy. So Kitty fled,
now and again, from the stately wooings of Barr-Saggott to the
company of young Cubbon, and was scolded by her Mamma in
consequence. "But, Mother," she said, "Mr. Saggot is such--such a--
is so FEARFULLY ugly, you know!"
"My dear," said Mrs. Beighton, piously, "we cannot be other than an
all-ruling Providence has made us. Besides, you will take
precedence of your own Mother, you know! Think of that and be
reasonable."
Then Kitty put up her little chin and said irreverent things about
precedence, and Commissioners, and matrimony. Mr. Beighton rubbed
the top of his head; for he was an easy-going man.
Late in the season, when he judged that the time was ripe, Barr-
Saggott developed a plan which did great credit to his
administrative powers. He arranged an archery tournament for
ladies, with a most sumptuous diamond-studded bracelet as prize.
He drew up his terms skilfully, and every one saw that the bracelet
was a gift to Miss Beighton; the acceptance carrying with it the
hand and the heart of Commissioner Barr-Saggott. The terms were a
St. Leonard's Round--thirty-six shots at sixty yards--under the
rules of the Simla Toxophilite Society.
All Simla was invited. There were beautifully arranged tea-tables
under the deodars at Annandale, where the Grand Stand is now; and,
alone in its glory, winking in the sun, sat the diamond bracelet in
a blue velvet case. Miss Beighton was anxious--almost too anxious
to compete. On the appointed afternoon, all Simla rode down to
Annandale to witness the Judgment of Paris turned upside down.
Kitty rode with young Cubbon, and it was easy to see that the boy
was troubled in his mind. He must be held innocent of everything
that followed. Kitty was pale and nervous, and looked long at the
bracelet. Barr-Saggott was gorgeously dressed, even more nervous
than Kitty, and more hideous than ever.
Mrs. Beighton smiled condescendingly, as befitted the mother of a
potential Commissioneress, and the shooting began; all the world
standing in a semicircle as the ladies came out one after the
other.
Nothing is so tedious as an archery competition. They shot, and
they shot, and they kept on shooting, till the sun left the valley,
and little breezes got up in the deodars, and people waited for
Miss Beighton to shoot and win. Cubbon was at one horn of the
semicircle round the shooters, and Barr-Saggott at the other. Miss
Beighton was last on the list. The scoring had been weak, and the
bracelet, PLUS Commissioner Barr-Saggott, was hers to a certainty.
The Commissioner strung her bow with his own sacred hands. She
stepped forward, looked at the bracelet, and her first arrow went
true to a hair--full into the heart of the "gold"--counting nine
points.
Young Cubbon on the left turned white, and his Devil prompted Barr-
Saggott to smile. Now horses used to shy when Barr-Saggott smiled.
Kitty saw that smile. She looked to her left-front, gave an almost
imperceptible nod to Cubbon, and went on shooting.
I wish I could describe the scene that followed. It was out of the
ordinary and most improper. Miss Kitty fitted her arrows with
immense deliberation, so that every one might see what she was
doing. She was a perfect shot; and her 46-pound bow suited her to
a nicety. She pinned the wooden legs of the target with great care
four successive times. She pinned the wooden top of the target
once, and all the ladies looked at each other. Then she began some
fancy shooting at the white, which, if you hit it, counts exactly
one point. She put five arrows into the white. It was wonderful
archery; but, seeing that her business was to make "golds" and win
the bracelet, Barr-Saggott turned a delicate green like young
water-grass. Next, she shot over the target twice, then wide to
the left twice--always with the same deliberation--while a chilly
hush fell over the company, and Mrs. Beighton took out her
handkerchief. Then Kitty shot at the ground in front of the
target, and split several arrows. Then she made a red--or seven
points--just to show what she could do if she liked, and finished
up her amazing performance with some more fancy shooting at the
target-supports. Here is her score as it was picked off:--
Gold. Red. Blue. Black. White. Total Hits. Total
Score
Miss Beighton 1 1 0 0 5 7 21
Barr-Saggott looked as if the last few arrowheads had been driven
into his legs instead of the target's, and the deep stillness was
broken by a little snubby, mottled, half-grown girl saying in a
shrill voice of triumph: "Then I'VE won!"
Mrs. Beighton did her best to bear up; but she wept in the presence
of the people. No training could help her through such a
disappointment. Kitty unstrung her bow with a vicious jerk, and
went back to her place, while Barr-Saggott was trying to pretend
that he enjoyed snapping the bracelet on the snubby girl's raw, red
wrist. It was an awkward scene--most awkward. Every one tried to
depart in a body and leave Kitty to the mercy of her Mamma.
But Cubbon took her away instead, and--the rest isn't worth
printing.
-THE END-
Rudyard Kipling's short story: Cupid's Arrows
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