Where is the Bride? (To the company at large.) Be tender with
that rice. It's a heathen custom. Give me the big bag.

* * * * * *

Bride slips out quietly into 'rickshaw and departs toward the
sun-set.

CAPT. M. (In the open.) Stole away, by Jove! So much the
worse for Gaddy! Here he is. Now Gaddy, this'll be livelier than
Amdberan! Where's your horse?

CAPT. G. (Furiously, seeing that the women are out of an earshot.)
Where the-is my Wife?

CAPT. M. Half-way to Mahasu by this time. You'll have to ride
like Young Lochinvar.

Horse comes round on his hind legs; refuses to let G. handle him.

CAPT. G. Oh you will, will you? Get 'round, you brute-you
hog-you beast! Get round!

Wrenches horse's head over, nearly breaking lower jaw: swings
himself into saddle, and sends home both spurs in the midst of a
spattering gale of Best Patna.

CAPT. M. For your life and your love-ride, Gaddy -And God bless
you!