"This is the jolliest picnic I've ever had," she cried. "It was worth being
carried off by those wretches to have all these delightful surprises. Now,
tea is ready, sir. Please may I pour it out?"
He wrapped his handkerchief round the pot before handing it to her.
"I suppose you haven't a dairy in your wonderful jungle?" she asked,
laughing.
"No; I'm sorry to say that you must put up with condensed milk," he
replied, producing a tin from a pocket of the pad and opening it with his
knife.
"What a pity! That spoils the illusion," declared the girl. "I ought to
refuse it; but I'll pass it for this occasion, as I don't like my tea
unsugared and milkless. No, I refuse to have a spoon." For he took out a
couple and some aluminium plates from the inexhaustible pad. "I'll stir my
tea with a splinter of bamboo and eat my _chupatis_ off leaves. It is more
in keeping with the situation."
Like a couple of light-hearted children they sat side by side on the pad,
drank their tea from the rude bamboo cups and devoured the hot _chupatis_
with enjoyment; while, invisible in the dense undergrowth, Badshah twenty
yards away betrayed his presence by tearing down creepers and breaking off
branches. In due time Dermot took from the hot ashes a hardened clay ball,
broke it open and served up the jungle fowl, from which the feathers had
been stripped off by the process of cooking.
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