No More Learning

"I shall have to take the mare tomorrow," said the Tertium Quid, "and
she will stand nothing heavier than a snaffle. "

They made their arrangements to meet in the Cemetery, after allowing
all the Mashobra people time to pass into Simla. That night it rained
heavily, and next day, when the Tertium Quid came to the trysting-place,
he saw that the new grave had a foot of water in it, the ground being a
tough and sour clay.

"'Jove! That looks beastly," said the Tertium Quid. "Fancy being boarded
up and dropped into that well! "

They then started off to Fagoo, the mare playing with the snaffle and
picking her way as though she were shod with satin, and the sun shining
divinely. The road below Mashobra to Fagoo is officially styled the
Himalayan-Thibet Road; but in spite of its name it is not much more than
six feet wide in most places, and the drop into the valley below must be
anything between one and two thousand feet.

"Now we're going to Thibet," said the Man's Wife merrily, as the horses
drew near to Fagoo. She was riding on the cliff-side.

"Into Thibet," said the Tertium Quid, "ever so far from people who say
horrid things, and hubbies who write stupid letters. With you--to the
end of the world! "

A coolie carrying a log of wood came round a corner, and the mare went
wide to avoid him--forefeet in and haunches out, as a sensible mare
should go.

"To the world's end," said the Man's Wife, and looked unspeakable things
over her near shoulder at the Tertium Quid.

He was smiling, but, while she looked, the smile froze stiff as it were
on his face, and changed to a nervous grin--the sort of grin men wear
when they are not quite easy in their saddles.
The mare seemed to be
sinking by the stem, and her nostrils cracked while she was trying to
realize what was happening. The rain of the night before had rotted the
drop-side of the Himalayan-Thibet Road, and it was giving way under
her. "What are you doing? " said the Man's Wife. The Tertium Quid gave no
answer. He grinned nervously and set his spurs into the mare, who rapped
with her forefeet on the road, and the struggle began. The Man's Wife
screamed, "Oh, Frank, get off! "

But the Tertium Quid was glued to the saddle--his face blue and
white--and he looked into the Man's Wife's eyes. Then the Man's Wife
clutched at the mare's head and caught her by the nose instead of the
bridle. The brute threw up her head and went down with a scream, the
Tertium Quid upon her, and the nervous grin still set on his face.

The Man's Wife heard the tinkle-tinkle of little stones and loose earth
falling off the roadway, and the sliding roar of the man and horse going
down. Then everything was quiet, and she called on Frank to leave his
mare and walk up. But Frank did not answer. He was underneath the mare,
nine hundred feet below, spoiling a patch of Indian corn.

As the revellers came back from Viceregal Lodge in the mists of the
evening, they met a temporarily insane woman, on a temporarily mad
horse, swinging round the corners, with her eyes and her mouth open, and
her head like the head of the Medusa. She was stopped by a man at the
risk of his life, and taken out of the saddle, a limp heap, and put on
the bank to explain herself.