Explore "C. I. D" by Talbot Mundy on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"Simple! Since they wished it, why not!"
F.9 led. Hawkes followed him, for no especial reason except that he might get a chance to retaliate for F.9's cheek, as he regarded it. Next came the Prince's servant, on the watch for snakes and fussily suspicious of the entire proceedings. Then the Prince, with a repeating rifle that he fingered with an air of knowing how to use it; but he looked as if he felt the effort was beneath his dignity, and he walked as if he felt too fragile to exert himself much. Chullunder Ghose came next, unarmed, untidy, corpulent, unshaven, weary-looking, but sturdily strutting his weight on huge thighs. He was wearing his loin -cloth tucked up, workmanlike. And he was talkative, perhaps to keep himself awake, but every word was aimed directly at the Prince's lethargy or at the pale mood of the doctor from Madras, who walked beside him. The Madrassi spoke once: "If I should run, and were shot as I run, would that not save trouble for us all?"