His guns, horses, and carts were sold to the highest bidder. His
superior officer wrote an absurd letter to his mother, saying that Imray had
unaccountably disappeared and his bungalow stood empty on the road.
After three or four months of the scorching hot weather had gone by, my friend
Strickland, of the police force, saw fit to rent the bungalow from the native
landlord. This was before he was engaged to Miss Youghal--an affair which has
been described in another place--and while he was pursuing his investigations
into native life. His own life was sufficiently peculiar, and men complained of
his manners and customs. There was always food in his house, but there were no
regular times for meals. He ate, standing up and walking about, whatever he
might find on the sideboard, and this is not good for the insides of human
beings. His domestic equipment was limited to six rifles, three shotguns, five
saddles, and a collection of stiff-jointed masheer rods, bigger and stronger
than the largest salmon rods. These things occupied one half of his bungalow,
and the other half was given up to Strickland and his dog Tietjens--an enormous
Rampur slut, who sung when she was ordered, and devoured daily the rations of
two men.
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