Fairbrother was to his left some lengths back, but the rissaldar was coming up hard on the offside – too close for comfort if the boar jinked, and with it Minnie, as she certainly would on a long rein. The fellow risked a foul, indeed, except this wasn’t the Coromandel Cup; there was no umpire – no rules.

Hervey gave a touch with the shaft of the spear, and Minnie lengthened. The boar ran straight and fast for half a mile, just the one nullah giving it a bit of a scramble, which Minnie took without check, gaining a little more ground. Fairbrother was with him still (Acton too), but the rissaldar and cohort were beginning to crowd him, more intent on riding him off it seemed than getting to the pig first. He’d have cursed them had they been his, but there was nothing for it now but to give Minnie her head and trust to her blood.

Another fast half-mile, the boar still not tiring but the rissaldar several times close to colliding, forcing Hervey to keep drifting off line and swear like the army in Flanders. Two more nullahs, one so wide it needed three full strides, the boar losing ground again, but still not enough for him to close, and Minnie starting to blow. Then three narrow ones in a row, unseen. She jumped big each time, but one of the jemadars didn’t, and fell hard. Fairbrother stayed clear on his nearside, but Acton had closed on the rissaldar. (If the colonel fell it would be the rissaldar’s fault, in which case …)

Still the boar ran straight. He’d surely need cover soon to catch his wind? There was jhow to left and right.

But he wouldn’t yield. On and on, without slowing – not as much as the field at least. Two more nullahs checked them (needing a stride and a half) and nearly tumbled Fairbrother, yet somehow increased the boar’s velocity. Never had Hervey seen pig run like this, even in Bengal. If they’d been at Fort St George he’d have pulled up and touched his peak to him. But it wasn’t Fort St George, and – no doubt of it – the rissaldar was harrying him …

Yet another nullah, half hidden by tiger grass and camel thorn: Minnie stumbled, recovered and then jumped big.

But the boar disappeared.

Hervey pulled up and stood in the stirrups. He’d not let it get away, no matter how long it took. But all around was thick cover …

He began casting about looking for ‘pug’ (spoor), but the thorn was close set and the horses had roiled the open.

Nothing – not a clue.

They’d have to beat him out. But from so much thorn – how? What would—

‘Christ!’

It burst from cover not twenty yards off – massive, fast and straight for him.

He just got the point down in time to spur Minnie to meet it square. The impact nearly pitched him from the saddle, and he struggled hard to hold it off, though the point had gone deep.