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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/39795-8.txt b/39795-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7954e4c --- /dev/null +++ b/39795-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8551 @@ +Project Gutenberg's In the Guardianship of God, by Flora Annie Steel + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: In the Guardianship of God + +Author: Flora Annie Steel + +Release Date: May 25, 2012 [EBook #39795] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE GUARDIANSHIP OF GOD *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Bowen. from page scans provided by +Google Books (Harvard University) + + + + + + + + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + + 1. Page scan source: + http://books.google.com/books?id=uj6lOyePLCYC + (Harvard University) + + 2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe]; "a" with a macron + above by [=a] + + + + + + In the Guardianship of God + + + + + + + In the Guardianship + + of God + + + + + BY + + FLORA ANNIE STEEL + + AUTHOR OF "ON THE FACE OF THE WATERS," "VOICES OF + THE NIGHT," "HOSTS OF THE LORD," ETC. + + + + + + New York + + THE MACMILLAN COMPANY + + LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., Ltd. + + 1903 + + _All rights reserved_ + + + + + + + Copyright, 1908, + By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY + + * * * + + Set up, electrotyped, and published May, 1903. + + + + + + Norwood Press + J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith Co. + Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. + + + + + CONTENTS + + + In the Guardianship of God. + + A Bad-character Suit. + + Fire and Ice. + + The Shâhbâsh Wallah. + + The Most Nailing Bad Shot in Creation. + + The Reformer's Wife. + + The Squaring of the Gods. + + The Keeper of the Pass. + + The Perfume of the Rose. + + Little Henry and his Bearer. + + The Hall of Audience. + + In a Fog. + + Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh. + + Surâbhi. + + On the Old Salt Road. + + The Doll-maker. + + The Skeleton Tree. + + + + + IN THE GUARDIANSHIP OF GOD + + +"Dittu Sansi, aged twenty-one, theft, six months," read out the +overseer of the gaol, who was introducing a batch of new arrivals to +the doctor in charge of a large gaol in the Upper Provinces of India. +It was early morning. Outside the high mud walls, which looked like +putty and felt like rock, the dew was frosting the grass in the garden +where a few favoured criminals were doing the work of oxen for the +well-wheel, and turning the runnels of fresh water to the patches of +spinach and onion. But here, inside the gaol square, everything had +the parched, arid look of sun-baked mud. Not a speck was to be seen +anywhere; the very prisoners themselves, standing in a long line +awaiting inspection, with their dust-coloured blankets folded upon the +ground in front of them, looked like darker clay images waiting to be +put on their pedestals. There was a touch of colour, however, close to +the arched gateway. First, a red-turbaned warder or two, guarding the +wicket; then half-a-dozen constables in yellow trousers, and a +deputy-inspector of police smart in silver laces and fringes; finally +the gaol _darogah_, or overseer, a stoutish, good-looking Mahomedan +with a tendency to burst out, wherever it was possible, into gay +muslin, and decorate the edges of his regulation white raiment with +fine stitchings. These, with a nondescript group fresh from the +lock-up, were gathered about the plain deal table set in full sunlight +where the Doctor sate, ticking off each arrival on the roster. He +matched the gaol, being dressed from head to foot in dust-coloured +drill, with a wide pith hat which might have been carved out of the +putty walls. + +"All right, _Darogah_," he said with a yawn. "Number five hundred and +seven. Go on,--what's the matter?" + +Shurruf Deen, the Overseer, was looking intently at the paper in his +hand, and the rich brown of his complacent face seemed to have faded a +little. "Nothing, _Huzoor_," he replied glibly enough, though a quick +observer might have seen the muscles of his brown throat labouring +over the syllables. "The list is badly written, in the broken +character. Thou shouldst speak to the clerk in thine office, +Inspector-_jee_; this name is almost illegible." + +"'Tis Shureef, clear enough, _Darogah-jee_," dissented the Inspector, +huffily; "and I should have thought it fits thine own name too close +for--" + +"Shureef," read out Shurruf, the Overseer, brusquely, "Shureef, Khoja, +thirty-five, lurking house trespass by night, habitual offender, ten +years." + +The Doctor looked up sharply. Ten years meant business; one can teach +a lot in ten years--carpet-weaving, wood-carving, pottery-making--and +the Doctor's hobby was his gaol. What he saw was a man, looking many +years older than his age, haggard and grey, yet despite this with a +lightness and suppleness in every limb. Though this figure was lean +where the Overseer was fat, wrinkled where the Overseer showed smooth, +there was a similarity in the rich colour of their skins, in the +regularity of their features, which made the Englishman turn to look +at the _Darogah_ with the mental remark that the race-characteristics +of India were very instructive; for Shurruf was a Khoja also. "All +right," said the Doctor. "Number five hundred and eight." + +"Five hundred and eight," repeated the habitual offender, calmly. "I +will not forget. Salaam, _Huzoor!_ Salaam, _Darogah-jee!_" + +"Do you know the man?" asked the Doctor quickly of his subordinate; he +was sharp as a needle, and there had been a note in the salutation +which he did not understand. + +"He was in for two years when I was sub-overseer at Loodhiana, +_Huzoor_," replied Shurruf, imperturbably. "He gave much trouble +there; he will not here, since the Doctor-_sahib_ knows how to manage +such as he." + +Once more there was an undertone, but the Doctor's attention was +riveted by the adroit flattery, and he rose to begin his inspection +with a smile. It was true; he did know how to manage a gaol, and there +could not possibly be any cause for complaint when he was there to +apportion each ounce of food scientifically, to rout every germ, every +microbe, and treat even contumacy as a disease. The five hundred and +odd prisoners were, as it were, the Doctor's chessmen. He marshalled +them this way and that, checkmating their vile souls and bodies while +they were in his care. If they passed out of it into their own, he +took no heed. They might make what they liked of themselves. But if +they died, and, as the phrase runs, chose the Guardianship of God, he +buried them temporarily in the gaol graveyard with all possible +sanitary precautions, against the time when relations or friends might +appear to claim the corpse. There was no official regulation as to the +limit of time within which such claim could be preferred; but as a +dead body remains in the special Guardianship of God for a year, it +was an understood thing that man should take over the task before the +Almighty gave up the job; it was more satisfactory, especially if the +corpse was a Hindu and had to be burned. As for the Doctor, he would +have preferred to burn the lot, Hindu and Mahomedan alike; failing +that, he--took precautions. + +As he walked down the line rapidly his sharp eye noted every detail, +and Shurruf Deen had many a swift, probing question to answer. He +answered them, however, as swiftly, for he was the best gaoler +conceivable; so good that even the Doctor allowed that he was almost +capable of managing the gaol himself. A man of unimpeachable +character, he had yet a curious insight into the minds of the +criminals he guarded, and a singular tact in managing them, so that +his record of continual rise in the world seemed likely to lengthen +itself by an appointment to the most important gaolership in the +Province. Shurruf Deen was working all he knew to secure this, and +therefore, as he followed the Doctor, his keen, bold eyes were +everywhere forestalling the possibility of blame. They fell, among +other things, on Shureef's thin, somewhat bowed figure, as it was +marched off to be shaved, washed, manacled, and dressed to pattern. +Then they turned almost mechanically to the paper he still held. +_Shureef Deen, Khoja--ten years' hard--three months' solitary_. He +gave a faint sigh of relief. Solitary confinement, even when broken up +by philanthropy into blocks of a week, gave time. It meant many +ameliorations to a prisoner's lot which would be unsafe amid the ruck. +Besides no man, he told himself, would be fool enough to risk losing +these favours simply to spite another man. + +He repeated this thought aloud that same evening, after lights were +out, and the silence of solitary cells lay all over the gaol, save in +one of the latter, where Shurruf sate whispering to Shureef. In the +utter darkness the curious similarity of the place to a wild beast's +cage, with its inner grating-barred cubicle and its outer high-walled +yard let open to the sky, was lost, and the two men might have been +anywhere. Shurruf, however, sate on the millstones, as being more +suited to his figure, while Shureef crouched on the ground beside the +little heap of corn he was bound to give back ounce for ounce in flour +and bran. And as he crouched, leaning listlessly against the wall, his +supple hand moved among the wheat raising it idly, and as idly letting +it slip back through his thin fingers. + +"Fate!" he echoed to something the other said; "nay, 'twas not Fate, +brother, which sent me to thy gaol. I was hard pressed; I am growing +old for the life; it kills men soon. The police would have had me in +the big _dacoity_ case at Delhi despite all; so I bungled one farther +north, to come--where thou wast--brother." + +"And thou didst right," assented Shurruf, eagerly; "I can make things +easy for thee." + +The wheat slipped with a soft patter, like rain, through Shureef's +fingers. "'Twas not that either which brought me to thy gaol. Listen. +I am far through this life, but another begins. I am not going to +plead _guilty_ there. It is _not guilty_ there, _not guilty_ on the +first count, _not guilty_ as a lad of fifteen for theft--" He paused, +then a faint curiosity came to his listlessness and he looked at the +half-seen figure beside him--"and such a theft! I--I have not done so +mean a one--since--" + +Shurruf moved uneasily. "Mayhap not; boys do things men do not. And I +have always--yea! thou knowest it--upheld thee better than some think. +What then? Thy life is past amendment now, save for tobacco and such +like; and these I will give, if thou art wise, for the ten years--" + +"I shall not live three months of the ten years, brother," interrupted +Shureef, calmly; and at the words a pang of regret that the solitary +confinement could not be inflicted straight on end shot through +Shurruf's breast, killing the faint remorse the remark had awakened; +it would have simplified matters so much to have Shureef safe from the +possibility of tale-bearing for those three months. "And, as I said, I +want none of these things," went on Shureef; "I only want the truth. +Promise to tell it, and I say naught; wilt promise, brother?" + +"No!" whispered Shurruf, fiercely. "What good would it do now?" + +"It would make some mourn for me; it would make more than cursing +follow me; it would be evidence for me, a boy, at the Great Court." + +The sleek face beside the anxious one took a strange expression, half +joy, half fear. "That is fools' talk. Doth not the Lord know, is He +not just?" + +"Yes, He knows," persisted Shureef; "but others must know, else they +will not claim my body, else my grave will not be cooled with tears. +It would not harm thee much, Shurruf. Mayhap 'twould be wiser for thee +not to seek advancement, since one, who might hear if the truth were +told, seeks it also; but if thou stayest in this fat post--" + +"Peace, fool!" interrupted Shurruf, passionately. "I will not. Thou +hast no proof, so do thy worst. Thou canst claim me brother if thou +wilt, naught else--" Shureef bent forward and whispered a name in his +ear, making him start back. "It is not true," he went on rapidly; "he +died long since. Think not I do not understand, that I cannot follow +thy evil thoughts. Have I not watched thee these twenty years? Have I +not seen thee sink, and sink, and sink? Can I not guess thy guile--" + +"Because it should have been thine own, Shurruf," interrupted his +brother in a new tone. "But let that be. It matters not. I asked this +thing of thee that thou mightest do it freely; if not, I take it--for +I can take it now. I give thee a fortnight to consider; till then I +have no more to say, and thy words will be wasted." + +He rose, feeling his way by the wall to the inner cell, and Shurruf, +after pausing a moment uncertainly, stole from the outer one, locking +the door behind him. There were stronger arguments than words at his +command, and he had a fortnight wherein to use them. And use them he +did, unsparingly. The week of solitary confinement which followed, and +the week of work in the general ward, were alternately hell and +comparative heaven; a hell of scant food, work beyond limit, and +punishments; a heaven of tobacco, opium, even a nip of country liquor +now and then; and, as a foretaste of favours to come, there was a day +of work in the gaol-gardens among the cool runnels of water and the +spinach-patches. For the Doctor, having small faith in things beyond +his ken, was dividing the dead who were in the Guardianship of God, +from the living who were in his own; in other words, he was enclosing +a new graveyard beyond the garden, and as this involved work in the +absolute open air, with greater chance of escape, the good-conduct men +from the walled garden were drafted outwards, and their place supplied +from within. But neither fifteen lashes, nor the privilege of smoking +surreptitiously behind a thicket of jasmine and roses, tempted Shureef +from the settled resolve which gave his face a curiously spiritual +look. The Doctor called it something else, and in the private list he +kept of those in his care, put the name of an incurable disease +opposite Shureef's, with this after it: _? three months_--and he did +not try to teach him carpet-weaving or pottery-making. + +The Overseer, however, felt that three months was all too long for +him, when, another week of solitary confinement coming round, he +slipped over in the dead of night to Shureef's cell, and found him +once more fingering the corn idly; but as it was a moonlight night +now, he could see the grains of wheat, shining like gold, slip through +the lean fingers. + +"It is not much I ask, brother," persisted Shureef, almost gently; +"only that the home folk may claim my body when I die. That is why I +came to thy gaol; for they will not, if the truth be not told, and +only thou canst tell it without flaw. True, I can harm thee, but I +have no wish for that. See! I give thee yet another week for thought. +That is three from three months; but I give no more." + +Shurruf Deen went back to his quarters over the big entrance-gate, +where the warders waited on him as if he were a prince, and pondered +over the dilemma in a white heat of indignation. It was so selfish of +Shureef; when God knew, what were a few tears more or less when a man +had deliberately cast away his right to wailing a dozen times over? +What Shureef had said about the first count was true, but what of the +others? What right had he to claim any compensation for that first +injustice? What right had he even to claim commiseration for the +result of a life he had chosen? Yet the Doctor gave it him; he even +ordered him back to the garden after a day or two, with the remark to +the native assistant-surgeon that it was a case of the candle of life +having been burned at both ends. "He might live a year," he said +critically, "but I give him three months; and, of course, he might +drop down dead any day." + +He might; if he only would before the week was out, thought Shurruf, +longingly. It would save so much trouble, for though the whole truth +could easily be shirked, it would scarcely be possible to deny the +relationship, or hush up his own share in the youthful escapade. For +there had been sufficient for him to be dismissed by the magistrate +with a reprimand for keeping bad company; and this, added to the +scandal of a notorious criminal claiming kin to him, would militate +against promotion. If Shureef would only drop down dead! + +He did. The very day before the week was up he was shot in an +organized attempt at escape on the part of five or six prisoners, who +saw their opportunity in the temporary freedom of garden-work. A very +determined attempt it was, involving violence, in which Shurruf gained +fresh laurels by his promptness in ordering the sentry to fire. One +man was wounded in the arm, and broke his leg in falling back from the +wall he was scaling. Shureef was picked up quite dead behind the +thicket of jasmine and rose. As two or three shots had been fired in +that direction, it was possible it might have been an accident, and +that he was not really one of the plotters; on the other hand both +opium and tobacco were found upon him, proof positive that he had +friends in the gaol. And though the warder, who had connived at the +attempt at escape, and now pleaded guilty in the hope of lessening +punishment, swore that Shureef was not in the plot, he had nothing to +reply when Shurruf asked him for the name of any other gaol official +who tampered with his duty. + +"Poor devil!" said the Doctor, musingly, as he finished the necessary +examination. "He was a fool to try--if he did; the run would have +finished him to a certainty. Even the excitement of being in the fun +might have killed him without anything else, for it was worse than I +thought; his heart was mere tissue-paper." + +Once more the Overseer's rich brown skin seemed to fade, though he was +glib enough with his tongue. "He is to be buried tonight?" he asked +easily. + +"The sooner the better. _His_ friends aren't likely to want him back; +but all the same put him in the new yard." The Doctor's hand, as he +drew up the sheet, finally lingered a bit. "If--if he wanted to get +outside, he may as well, poor devil!" + +So in the cool of the evening Shureef, wrapped in a white cloth, was +taken from a solitary cell and given into the Guardianship of God in +the sun-baked patch of earth where he was the first to lie. It was a +desolate patch, bare of everything save a white efflorescence of salt, +showing, as the warder remarked cynically, that it was only fit for +corpses. Not even for them, dissented the diggers, who, with leg-irons +clanking discordantly, lingered over their task while Shureef, a +still, white roll of cloth, waited their pleasure. The soil, they +said, was much harder than in the old place, and if folk were to be +dug up as well as buried--not that any would want the expense of +moving Shureef, whose name was a byword--here the Overseer's portly +figure showed in the adjoining garden, and they hurried on with their +work. + +Shurruf did not come over to the grave, however, perhaps because he +was in a demi-toilet of loose muslin, without his turban, and in +charge of his little son, a pretty child of four, whom the obsequious +gardener had presented with a bunch of jasmine and roses, and who, +after a time becoming bored by his father's interest in the spinach +and onions, drifted on by himself to find something more attractive, +until he came to stand wide-eyed and curious in the mourners' place at +the head of the grave. And there he stood silent, watching the +proceedings and keeping a tight clutch on his flowers, until a hand +from behind, dragging him back passionately, sent a shower of earth +over the edge on to Shureef's body which had just been laid in its +last resting-place, and sent also a bunch of roses and jasmines to lie +close to Shureef's heart, for the child dropped them in his fright. + +"Weep not, my prince!" cried the warder. "Thou shalt have them again. +Here, some one, go down and hand them up." + +But Shurruf, the Overseer, who, with his little son clutched up in his +arms, stood now in the mourners' place, his face almost grey, turned +on the man with a curse. "Let the flowers lie," he said; "there are +plenty more in the garden." So, without another word, he left them to +fill up the grave; and they, having done it, left Shureef with the +flowers on his breast to the Guardianship of God. + +And there he stayed month after month, until the year drew close to +its end. And Shurruf Deen stayed in the gaol, for, after all, the man +whose place he had hoped to get was allowed another year's extension +of service. Perhaps it was the deferred hope which told on the +Overseer's nerves; but certain it is that the passing months brought a +strange look of anxiety to his face. Perhaps it was that, though he +had set aside much, he could not quite set aside the thought of that +bunch of roses and jasmine which his little son's hand had thrown upon +Shureef's breast. Something there was in his mind without a doubt, +which made him, but a few weeks before the Guardianship of God must +end, and before the momentous question of promotion must be decided, +steal out more than once at night to Shureef's solitary grave, as he +had stolen to his solitary cell. But the memory of the still, white +roll of cloth with the flowers upon it, touched him more closely than +the memory of the listless figure letting the wheat-grains slip +through its idle fingers. Why it should have done so it were hard to +say. Fear had something to do with it--sheer superstition that when +the Guardianship of God was over, the uncared-for body might fall into +the keeping of the devil and torment him. Love had its part too; love, +and a vague remorse born more of the chance which had made his little +son chief mourner, than of a sense of personal guilt. Plainly it did +not do to try and escape the tie of kindred altogether. + +So, by degrees, the thought grew that it would indeed be safer for +Shureef to pass into other guardianship before God's ended. He had +asked for nothing, save that his grave might be cooled by tears; if +this could be compassed, surely he ought to be satisfied, ought to +forget everything else and leave his kindred in peace. And it might be +compassed with care. Shureef's mother--not his own, for they had only +been half-brothers--was alive, alive and blind, and poor too, since +his father, stung by his son's disgrace, had sent her back to her own +people. Poor, blind, and a mother! Here was material ready to his +hand. It would not cost half a month's pay, even with the expenses of +moving the body; and then--yes, then, when they were no longer needed, +those flowers, even if they were dust, as they must be, could be taken +away and forgotten. + +It was the anniversary of Shureef's burial, and in the cool of the +evening the clanking leg-irons were once more at work upon his grave; +for, much to the Doctor's disgust, an old woman had put in an +appearance at the last moment with unimpeachable credentials of +relationship and sufficient cash to convey the remains to her village. +There was, as Shurruf, the Overseer, said regretfully, no valid excuse +for refusal, and the Doctor-_sahib_ might rely upon his doing all +things decently and in order, and on strict sanitary principles. +Whereupon the Doctor had smiled grimly, and said that in cases of +resurrection there was safety in extremes. + +Nevertheless, it was the love of horrors, no doubt, which made the +gathering round the opening grave so large. The old woman sate in the +mourners' place, her tears flowing already. The others, however, +talked over probabilities, and told tales of former disinterments with +cheerful realism, while Shurruf Deen bustled backwards and forwards +among his elaborate arrangements. + +They dug down to one side of the original grave after approved +fashion, so that there should be as little disturbance as possible, +and when traces of what was sought showed in a fold of still, white +shroud, extra cloths were sent down, in which, covering as they +exposed, the workmen gradually swathed all that was mortal of the dead +_dacoit_. + +"He hath not lost much weight," said those at the ropes as they +hauled. + +So there the task was done, decently and in order. But Shurruf wanted +something which he knew must still lie within the brand-new shroud, +and, ere they lifted the gruesome bundle to the coffin awaiting it, he +stooped,--then stood up suddenly, grey to the very lips, and crushing +something in his hand, something, so it seemed to those around, pink +and white and green. But his face riveted them. "In the Guardianship +of God," he muttered, "in the Guardianship of God." + +"What is it?" said one to another, as he stood dazed and speechless. +Then they, too, stooped, looked, touched, until, as he had lain when +they found him behind the rose and jasmine thicket, Shureef lay before +them looking more as if he was asleep than dead. + +"_Wah!_" said a voice in the crowd; "he cannot have been so bad as +folk thought him, if the Lord has taken all that care of him." + +Shurruf gave a sort of sob, stepped back, lost his footing on the edge +of the open grave and fell heavily. When they picked him up he was +dead. + +The Doctor, summoned hastily, shook his head. Death must have been +instantaneous, he said; the neck was broken. After which he went over +and looked at Shureef curiously; then stooped down and picked up some +of the earth on which the body lay, earth which had come from the +bottom of the grave. "Look," he said, pointing out minute white +crystals in it to the native assistant; "that's bi-borate of soda. I +knew there was some of it here when I chose this patch. It's a useful +antiseptic; but he has been in a regular mine of it--a curious case of +embalming, isn't it?" + +It certainly was; and it was still more curious that a bunch of fresh +roses and jasmine should have been found on Shurruf Deen the +Overseer's breast, as he lay in Shureef's grave; but, as the Doctor +said, the obsequious gardener had most likely given them to him as he +passed through the spinach and onion patches. And perhaps it was so. + + + + + A BAD-CHARACTER SUIT + + +A flood of blistering, yellow sunshine was pouring down on to the +prostrate body of Private George Afford as he lay on his back, drunk, +in an odd little corner between two cook-room walls in the barrack +square; and a stream of tepid water from a skin bag was falling on his +head as Peroo the _bhisti_ stood over him, directing the crystal curve +now on his forehead, now scientifically on his ears. The only result, +however, was that Private George Afford tried unavailingly to scratch +them, then swore unintelligibly. + +Peroo twisted the nozzle of the _mussuck_ to dryness, and knelt down +beside the slack strength in the dust. So kneeling, his glistening +curved brown body got mixed up with the glistening curved brown +water-bag he carried, until at first sight he seemed a monstrous +spider preying on a victim, for his arms and legs were skinny. + +"_Sahib!_" he said, touching his master on the sleeve. It was a very +white sleeve, and the buttons and belts and buckles all glistened +white or gold in the searching sunlight, for Peroo saw to them, +as he saw to most things about Private Afford's body and soul; +why God knows, except that George Afford had once--for his own +amusement--whacked a man who, for his, was whacking Peroo. He happened +to be one of the best bruisers in the regiment, and George Afford, who +was in a sober bout, wanted to beat him; which he did. + +There was no one in sight; nothing in fact save the walls, and an +offensively cheerful castor-oil bush which grew, greener than any +bay-tree, in one angle, sending splay fingers of shadow close to +Private Afford's head as if it wished to aid in the cooling process. +But despite the solitude, Peroo's touch on the white sleeve was +decorous, his voice deference itself. + +"_Sahib!_" he repeated. "If the _Huzoor_ does not get up soon, the +Captain will find the master on the ground when he passes to rations. +And that is unnecessary." + +He might as well have spoken to the dead. George Afford's face, +relieved of the douche treatment, settled down to placid, contented +sleep. It was not a bad face; and indeed, considering the habits of +the man, it was singularly fine and clear cut; but then in youth it +had evidently been a superlatively handsome one also. + +Peroo waited a minute or two, then undid the nozzle of his skin bag +once more, and drenched the slack body and the dust around it. + +"What a tyranny is here!" he muttered to himself, the wrinkles on his +forehead giving him the perplexed look of a baby monkey; "yet the +master will die of sunstroke if he be not removed. _Hai, Hai!_ What it +is to eat forbidden fruit and find it a turnip." + +With which remark he limped off methodically to the quarter guard and +gave notice that Private George Afford was lying dead drunk between +cook-rooms Nos. 7 and 8; after which he limped on as methodically +about his regular duty of filling the regimental waterpots. What else +was there to be done? The special master whom he had elected to serve +between whiles would not want his services for a month or two at +least, since that period would be spent in clink. For Private George +Afford was a habitual offender. + +Such a very habitual offender, indeed, that Evan Griffiths, the second +major, had not a word to say when the Adjutant and the Colonel +conferred over this last offence, though he had stood Afford's friend +many a time; to the extent even of getting him re-enlisted in India--a +most unusual favour--when, after an interval of discharge, he turned +up at his ex-captain's bungalow begging to be taken on; averring, +even, that he had served his way out to India before the mast in that +hope, since enlistment at the Depôt might take him to the other +battalion. The story, so the Adjutant had said, was palpably false; +but the silent little Major had got the Colonel to consent; so Private +George Afford--an ideal soldier to look at--had given the master +tailor no end of trouble about the fit of his uniform, for he was a +bit of a dandy when he was sober. But now even Major Griffiths felt +the limit of forbearance was past; nor could a court-martial be +expected to take into consideration the trivial fact which lay at the +bottom of the observant little Major's mercy, namely, that though when +he was sober George Afford was a dandy, when he was drunk--or rather +in the stage which precedes actual drunkenness--he was a gentleman. +Vulgarity of speech slipped from him then; and even when he was +passing into the condition in which there is no speech he would excuse +his own lapses from strict decorum with almost pathetic apologies. "It +is no excuse, I know, sir," he would say with a charming, regretful +dignity, "but I have had a very chequered career--a very chequered +career indeed." + +That was true; and one of the black squares of the chessboard of life +was his now, for the court-martial which sentenced Private George +Afford to but a short punishment added the rider that he was to be +thereinafter dismissed from Her Majesty's Service. + +"He is quite incorrigible," said the Colonel, "and as we are pretty +certain of going up to punish those scoundrels on the frontier as soon +as the weather cools, we had better get rid of him. The regiment +mustn't have a speck anywhere, and his sort spoils the youngsters." + +The Major nodded. + +So Private George Afford got his dismissal, also the bad-character +suit of mufti which is the Queen's last gift even to such as he. + + + * * * * * + + +It was full six weeks after he had stood beside that prostrate figure +between cook-rooms Nos. 7 and 8 that Peroo was once more engaged in +the same task, though not in the same place. + +And this time the thin stream of water falling on George Afford's face +found it grimed and dirty, and left it showing all too clearly the +traces of a fortnight's debauch. For Peroo, being of a philosophic +mind, had told himself, as he had limped away from the quarter guard +after his report, that now, while his self-constituted master would +have no need of his services, was the time for him to take that leave +home which he had deferred so long. Therefore, two or three days after +this event, he had turned up at the Quartermaster's office with the +curious Indian institution, "the changeling," and preferred his +request for a holiday. It was granted, of course; there is no reason +why leave should not be granted when a double, willing even to answer +to the same name, stands ready to step into the original's shoes, +without payment; that remaining a bargain between the doubles. + +"Here," said Peroo, "is my brother. He is even as myself. His +character is mine. We are all water-carriers, and he has done the work +for two days. I will also leave him my skin bag, so that the Presence +may be sure it is clean. He is a Peroo also." + +He might have been _the_ Peroo so far as the Quartermaster's +requirements went. So the original went home and the copy took his +place; but not for the two months. The order for active service of +which the Colonel had spoken came sooner than was expected, and Peroo, +hearing of it, started back at once for the regiment. A "changeling" +could pass muster in peace, but war required the reality; besides, +the master would, no doubt, be released. He was surely too good +fighting material to be left behind, Peroo told himself; yet there his +hero was, lying in the dust of a bye-alley in the bazaar in a ragged +bad-character suit, while the barrack squares were alive with men, not +half so good to look at, talking, as the mules were laden, of the +deeds they were to do! + +The wrinkles on Peroo's forehead grew more like those of a monkey in +arms than ever. This was indeed a tyranny! but at least the Presence +could be moved out of the burning sun this time without, of necessity, +getting him into more trouble. So a few friends were called, and +together they carried George Afford into the windowless slip of a room +which Peroo locked at four o'clock in the morning and unlocked at ten +at night, but which, nevertheless, served him as a home. There was +nothing in it save a string bed and a drinking vessel; for Peroo, +after his kind, ate his food in the bazaar; but that for the present +was all the Englishman required either. So there Peroo left him in the +darkness and the cool, safe for the day. + +But after that? The problem went with Peroo as he limped about filling +the cook-room waterpots, for on the morrow he must be filling them on +the first camping-ground, fifteen miles away from that slip of a room +where the master lay. What would become of him then? + +The sandy stretches in which the barracks stood were full of mules, +camels, carts, and men of all arms belonging to the small picked force +which was to march with the one solid regiment at dawn on their +mission of punishment. + +"_Pâni_ (water)," shouted a perspiring artilleryman, grappling with a +peculiarly obstinate mule, as Peroo went past with his skin bag. +"_Pâni_, and bring a real _jildi_ (quickness) along with it. W'ot! you +ain't the drinkin'-water, ain't yer? W'ot's that to me? I ain't one o' +yer bloomin' Brahmins; but I'll take it outside instead o' in, because +of them black-silly's o' the doctor's. So turn on the hose, Johnnie; +I'll show you how." + +"'E knows all about it, you bet," put in one of the regiment +cheerfully. "Wy, 'e's bin hydraulic engineer and waterworks combined +to that pore chap as got the sack the other day--George Afford--" + +"Sure it was a thriflin' mistake wid the prepositions his godfathers +made when they named him; for it was on and not off-erd he was six +days out of sivin," remarked a tall Irishman. + +"You hold your jaw, Pat," interrupted another voice. "'E was a better +chap nor most, w'en 'e wasn't on the lap; and, Lordy! 'e could fight +when he 'ad the chanst--couldn't 'e, Waterworks? Just turn that hose +o' yours my way a bit, will yer?" + +"_Huzoor_," assented Peroo, deferentially; he understood enough to +make the thought pass through his brain that it was a pity the master +had not the chance. Perhaps the curve of water conveyed this to that +other brain beneath the close, fair curls, whence the drops flew +sparkling in the sunlight. At any rate, their owner went on in a +softer tone-- + +"Yes, 'e fit--like fits. Looked, too, as if 'e was born ter die on the +field o' glory, and not in a bad-character suit; but, as the parson +says: 'Beauty is vain. I will repay, saith the Lord.'" + +The confused morality of this passed Peroo by; and yet something not +altogether dissimilar lay behind his wrinkled forehead when, work +over, he returned to the slip of a room and found Afford vaguely +roused by his entrance. + +"I--I am aware it is no possible excuse, sir," came his voice, +curiously refined, curiously pathetic, "but I really have had a very +chequered life, I have indeed." + +"_Huzoor_," acquiesced Peroo, briefly; but even that was sufficient to +bring the hearer closer to realities. He sat up on the string bed, +looked about him stupidly, then sank back again. + +"Get away! you d----d black devil," he muttered, with a sort of +listless anger. "Can't you let me die in peace, you fool? Can't you +let me die in the gutter, die in a bad-character suit? It's all I'm +fit for--all I'm fit for." Voice, anger, listlessness, all tailed away +to silence. He turned away with a sort of sob, and straightway fell +asleep, for he was still far from sober. + +Peroo lit a cresset lamp and stood looking at him. Beauty was +certainly vain here, and if the Lord was going to repay, it was time +He began. Time some one began, at any rate, if the man who had fought +for him, Peroo, was not to carry out his desire of dying in the +gutter--dying in a bad-character suit! The latter misfortune could, +however, be avoided. Things were going cheap in the bazaar that +evening, as was only natural when it was to be deserted for six months +at least, so it ought not to be hard to get the master an exchange for +something more suitable to his beauty, if not to his death. + +Five minutes afterwards George Afford, too much accustomed to such +ministrations to be disturbed by the process of undressing, was still +asleep, his chin resting peacefully on Peroo's best white cotton +shawl, and the bad-character suit was on its way to the pawnshop round +the corner. It was nigh on an hour, however, before Peroo, having +concluded his bargain, came back with it, and by the light of the +cresset set to work appraising his success or failure. A success +certainly. The uniform was old, no doubt, but it was a corporal's; and +what is more, it had three good-conduct stripes on the arm. That ought +to give dignity, even to a death in the gutter. + +Peroo brought out some pipeclay and pumice-stone from a crevice, and +set to work cheerfully on the buttons and belts, thinking as he worked +that he had indeed made a good bargain. With a judicious smear of +cinnabar here and there, the tunic would be almost as good as the +master's old one--_plus_ the good-conduct stripes, of course, which he +could never have gained in the regiment. + +But out of it? If, for instance, the Lord were really to repay Private +George Afford for that good deed in defending a poor lame man?--a good +deed which no bad one could alter for the worse! Peroo on this point +would have been a match for a whole college of Jesuits in casuistry, +as he laid on the pipeclay with lavish hand, and burnished the buttons +till they shone like gold. + +It was grey dawn when George Afford woke, feeling a deferential touch +on his shoulder. + +"_Huzoor!_" came a familiar voice, "the first bugle has gone. The +_Huzoor_ will find his uniform--a corporal's, with three good-conduct +stripes--is ready. The absence of a rifle is to be regretted; but that +shall be amended if the _Huzoor_ will lend a gracious ear to the plan +of his slave. In the meantime a gifting of the _Huzoor's_ feet for the +putting on of stockings might be ordered." + +George Afford thrust out a foot mechanically, and sate on the edge of +the string bed staring stupidly at the three good-conduct stripes on +the tunic, which was neatly folded beside him. + +"It is quite simple," went on the deferential voice. "The _Huzoor_ is +going to march with the colours, but he will be twelve hours behind +them; that is all. He will get the fighting, and by-and-by, when the +killing comes and men are wanted, the Colonel-_sahib_ may give a +place; but, in any case, there will always be the fighting. For the +rest, I, the _Huzoor's_ slave, will manage; and as there will, of +necessity, be no canteen, there can be no tyranny. Besides, since +there is not a cowrie in the master's jacket, what else is he to do?" + +The last argument was unanswerable. George Afford thrust out his other +foot to be shod for this new path, and stared harder than ever at the +good-conduct stripes. + +That night, despite the fatigues of a first day in camp, Peroo trudged +back along the hard white road to meet some one whom he expected; for +this was the first step, and he had, perforce, been obliged to leave +his charge to his own devices for twelve hours amid the distractions +of the bazaar. Still, without a cowrie in his pocket--Peroo had +carefully extracted the few annas he had found in one--a man was more +or less helpless, even for evil. + +Despite this fact, there was a lilt in the lagging step which, just as +Peroo had begun to give up hope of playing Providence, came slowly +down the road. It belonged to George Afford, in the gentlemanly stage +of drink. He had had a chequered life, he said almost tearfully, but +there were some things a man of honour could not do. He could not +break his promise to an inferior--a superior was another matter. In +that case he paid for it honestly. But he had promised Peroo--his +inferior--to come. So here he was; and that was an end of it. + +It seemed more than once during the next few hours as if the end had, +indeed, come. But somehow Peroo's deferential hand and voice +extricated those tired uncertain feet, the weary sodden brain, from +ditches and despair; still it was a very sorry figure which Peroo's +own hasty footsteps left behind, safely quartered for the day in a +shady bit of jungle, while he ran on to overtake the rear-guard if he +could. The start, however, had been too much for his lameness, and he +was a full hour late at his work; which, of course, necessitated his +putting in an excuse. He chose drunkenness, as being nearest the +truth, was fined a day's wages, and paid it cheerfully, thinking with +more certainty of the sleeping figure he had left in the jungles. + +The afternoon sun was slanting through the trees before it stirred, +and George Afford woke from the sleep of fatigue superadded to his +usual sedative. He felt strangely refreshed, and lay on his back +staring at the little squirrels yawning after their midday snooze in +the branches above him. And then he laughed suddenly, sate up and +looked about him half confusedly. Not a trace of humanity was to be +seen; nothing but the squirrels, a few green pigeons, and down in the +mirror-like pool behind the trees--a pool edged by the percolating +moisture from the water with faint spikes of sprouting grass--a couple +of egrets were fishing lazily. Beyond lay a bare sandy plain, backed +by faint blue hills--the hills where fighting was to be had. Close at +hand were those three good-conduct stripes. + +That night Peroo had not nearly so far to go back along the broad +white road; yet the step which came echoing down it, if steadier, +lagged more. Nor was Peroo's task much easier, for George Afford--in +the abject depression which comes to the tippler from total +abstinence--sate down in the dust more than once, and swore he would +not go another step without a dram. Still, about an hour after dawn, +he was once more dozing in a shady retreat with a pot of water and +some dough cakes beside him, while Peroo, in luck, was getting a lift +to the third camping-ground. + +But even at the second, where the sleeping figure remained, the +country was wilder, almost touching the "skirts of the hills," and so, +when George Afford roused himself--as the animals rouse themselves to +meet the coming cool of evening--a ravine deer was standing within +easy shot, looking at him with head thrown back and wide, startled +nostrils, scenting the unknown. + +The sight stirred something in the man which had slept the sleep of +the dead for years; that keen delight of the natural man, not so much +in the kill as in the chase; not so much in the mere chase itself as +in its efforts--its freedom. He rose, stretching his long arms in what +was half a yawn, half a vague inclination to shake himself free of +some unseen burden. + +But that night he swore at Peroo for leading him a fool's dance; he +threatened to go back. He was not so helpless as all that. He was not +a slave; he would have his tot of rum like any other soldier as-- + +"_Huzoor_," interrupted Peroo, deferentially, "this slave is aware +that many things necessary to the _Huzoor's_ outfit as a soldier +remain to be produced. But with patience all may be attained. Here, by +God's grace, is the rifle. One of us--Smith-_sahib_ of G Company, +_Huzoor_--found freedom to-day. He was reconnoitring with Griffiths, +Major-_sahib_, when one of these hell-doomed _Sheeahs_--whom Heaven +destroy--shot him from behind a rock--" + +Private George Afford seemed to find his feet suddenly. "Smith of G +Company?" he echoed in a different voice. + +"_Huzoor!_--the _sahib_ whom the _Huzoor_ thrashed for thrashing this +slave--" + +"Poor chap!" went on George Afford, as if he had not heard. "So +they've nicked him--but we'll pay 'em out--we--" His fingers closed +mechanically on the rifle Peroo was holding out to him. + + + * * * * * + + +It was a fortnight after this, and the camp lay clustered closely in +the mouth of a narrow defile down which rushed a torrent swollen from +the snows above; a defile which meant decisive victory or defeat to +the little force which had to push their way through it to the heights +above. Yet, though death, maybe, lay close to each man, the whole camp +was in an uproar because Major Griffiths' second pair of _putties_ had +gone astray. The other officers had been content with one set of these +woollen bandages which in hill-marching serve as gaiters, and help so +much to lessen fatigue; but the Major, being methodical, had provided +against emergencies. And now, when, with that possibility of death +before him, his soul craved an extreme order in all things, his clean +pair had disappeared. Now the Major, though silent, always managed to +say what he meant. So it ran through the camp that they had been +stolen, and men compared notes over the fact in the mess-tent and in +the canteen. + +In the former, the Adjutant with a frown admitted that of late there +had been a series of inexplicable petty thefts in camp, which had +begun with the disappearance of Private Smith's rifle. That might +perhaps be explained in an enemy's country, but what the deuce anybody +could want with a pair of bone shirt-studs-- + +"And a shirt," put in a mournful voice. + +"_Item_ a cake of scented soap," said another. + +"And a comb," began a third. + +The Colonel, who had till then preserved a discreet silence, here +broke in with great heat to the Adjutant. + +"Upon my soul, sir, it's a disgrace to the staff, and I must insist on +a stringent inquiry the instant we've licked these hill-men. I--I +didn't mean to say anything about it--but I haven't been able to find +my tooth-brush for a week." + +Whereupon there was a general exodus into the crisp, cold air outside, +where the darkness would hide inconvenient smiles, for the Colonel was +one of those men who have a different towel for their face and hands. + +The stars were shining in the cleft between the tall, shadowy cliffs +which rose up on either side, vague masses of shadow on which--seen +like stars upon a darker sky--the watchfires of the enemy sparkled +here and there. The enemy powerful, vigilant; and yet beside the +camp-fires close at hand the men had forgotten the danger of the +morrow in the trivial loss of the moment, and were discussing the +Major's _putties_. + +"It's w'ot I say all along," reiterated the romancer of G Company. "It +begun ever since Joey Smith was took from us at Number Two camp. It's +'is ghost--that's w'ot it is. 'Is ghost layin' in a _trew-so_. Jest +you look 'ere! They bury 'im, didn't they? as 'e was--decent like in +coat and pants--no more. Well! since then 'e's took 'is rifle off us, +an' a greatcoat off D Company, and a knapsack off A." + +"Don't be lavin' out thim blankets he tuk from the store, man," +interrupted the tall Irishman. "Sure it's a testhimony to the pore +bhoy's character annyhow that he shud be wantin' thim where he is." + +"It is not laughing at all at such things I would be, whatever," put +in another voice seriously, "for it is knowing of such things we are +in the Highlands--" + +"Hold your second sight, Mac," broke in a third; "we don't want none +o' your shivers tonight. You're as bad as they blamed niggers, and +they swear they seen Joey more nor once in a red coat dodging about +our rear." + +"Well! they won't see 'im no more, then," remarked a fourth +philosophically, "for 'e change 'is tailor. Leastways, 'e got a +service khakee off Sergeant Jones the night afore last; the Sergeant +took his Bible oath to 'ave it off Joey Smith's ghost, w'en 'e got +time to tackle 'im, if 'e 'ave ter go to 'ell for it." + +Major Griffiths meantime was having a similar say as he stood, +eye-glass in eye, at the door of the mess-tent. "Whoever the thief +is," he admitted, with the justice common to him, "he appears to have +the instincts of a gentleman; but, by Gad, sir, if I find him he shall +know what it is to take a field officer's gaiters." + +Whereupon he gave a dissatisfied look at his own legs, a more +contented one at the glimmering stars of the enemy's watchfires, and +then turned in to get a few hours' rest before the dawn. + +But some one a few miles farther down the valley looked both at his +legs and at the stars with equal satisfaction. Some one, tall, square, +straight, smoking a pipe--some one else's pipe, no doubt--beside the +hole in the ground where, on the preceding night, the camp flagstaff +had stood. That fortnight had done more for George Afford than give +his outward man a trousseau; it had clothed him with a certain +righteousness, despite the inward conviction that Peroo must be a +magnificent liar in protesting that the _Huzoor's_ outfit had either +been gifted to him or bought honestly. + +In fact, as he stood looking down at his legs complacently, he +murmured to himself, "I believe they're the Major's, poor chap; look +like him somehow." Then he glanced at the Sergeant's coatee he wore +and walked up and down thoughtfully--up and down beside the hole in +the ground where the flagstaff had stood. + +So to him from the dim shadows came a limping figure. + +"Well?" he called sharply. + +"The orders are for dawn, _Huzoor_, and here are some more +cartridges." + +George Afford laughed; an odd, low little laugh of sheer satisfaction. + + + * * * * * + + +It was past dawn by an hour or two, but the heights were still unwon. + +"Send some one--any one!" gasped the Colonel, breathlessly, as he +pressed on with a forlorn hope of veterans to take a knoll of rocks +whence a galling fire had been decimating every attack. "Griffiths! +for God's sake, go or get some one ahead of those youngsters on the +right or they'll break--and then--" + +Break! What more likely? A weak company, full of recruits, a company +with its officers shot down, and before them a task for veterans--for +that indifference to whizzing bullets which only custom brings. Major +Griffiths, as he ran forward, saw all this, saw also the ominous +waver. God! would he be in time to check it--to get ahead? that was +what was wanted, some one ahead--no more than that--some one ahead! + +There was some one. A tall figure ahead of the wavering boys. + +"Come on! come on, my lads! follow me!" rang out a confident voice, +and the Major, as he ran, half-blinded by the mists of his own haste, +felt it was as a voice from heaven. + +"Come on! come on!--give it 'em straight. Hip, hip, hurray!" + +An answering cheer broke from the boys behind, and with a rush the +weakest company in the regiment followed some one to victory. + + + * * * * * + + +"I don't understand what the dickens it means," said the Colonel +almost fretfully that same evening, when, safe over the pass, the +little force was bivouacking in a willow-set valley on the other side +of the hills. Before it lay what it had come to gain, behind it danger +past. "Some one in my regiment," he went on, "does a deuced plucky +thing--between ourselves, saves the position: I want naturally to find +out who it was, and am met by a cock and bull story about some one's +ghost. What the devil does it mean, Major?" + +The Major shook his head. "I couldn't swear to the figure, sir, though +it reminded me a bit--but that's impossible. However, as I have by +your orders to ride back to the top, sir, and see what can be done to +hold it, I'll dip over a bit to where the rush was made, and see if +there is any clue." + +He had not to go so far. For in one of those tiny hollows in the level +plateau of pass, whence the snow melts early, leaving a carpet of blue +forget-me-nots and alpine primroses behind it, he, Sergeant Jones, and +the small party going to make security still more secure, came upon +Peroo, the water-carrier, trying to perform a tearful travesty of the +burial service over the body of George Afford. + +It was dressed in Sergeant Jones' tunic and Major Griffiths' +_putties_, but the Sergeant knelt down beside it, and smoothed the +stripes upon the cuff with a half-mechanical, half-caressing touch, +and the Major interrupted Peroo's protestations with an odd tremor in +his voice. + +"What the devil does it matter," he said sharply, "what he took +besides the pass? Stand aside, man; this is my work, not yours. +Sergeant! form up your men for the salute--ball cartridge." + +The Major's recollection of the service for the burial of the dead was +not accurate, but it was comprehensive. So he committed the mortal +remains of his brother soldier to the dust, confessing confusedly that +there is a natural body and a spiritual body--a man that is of the +earth earthy, and one that is the Lord from heaven. So following on a +petition to be saved from temptation and delivered from evil, the +salute startled the echoes, and they left George Afford in the keeping +of the pass, and the pass in his keeping. And as the Major rode +campwards, he wondered vaguely if some one before the great white +throne wore a bad-character suit, or whether wisdom understood the +plea, "I've had a very chequered life, I have indeed." + +But Peroo had no such thoughts; needed no such excuse. It was +sufficient for him that the _Huzoor_ had once been the protector of +the poor. + + + + + FIRE AND ICE + + +It was in a little lath-and-plaster house down by the river that it +all happened. The veriest confection of a house, looking for all the +world as if it were a Neapolitan ice. Strawberry and vanilla in +alternate stripes, with shuttered windows of coffee, and a furled +wafer of an awning over the filagree chocolate balcony. And it rested, +so to speak, against a platter of green plantain-leaves, bright as any +emerald. No doubt the trees belonging to the leaves grew somewhere to +the back or the side of it, but from the wide street in front you +could see nothing but the green leaves surrounding the ice-cream. + +For the rest it was a three-storeyed house outwardly; inwardly a +two-storeyed one; or to be strictly accurate, it consisted of a storey +and a half, since the further half of the ground floor and the whole +of the middle storey belonged to a different house, having a different +entrance in a different street, which lay in a different quarter. A +very respectable quarter indeed, whereas the less said about the +morals of the wide street down by the river the better. They were so +bad that the modesty of the middle storey did not permit of a single +window whence they could be seen. And this gave the house a queer, +half-hearted look, for the top storey, and that half of the lowest one +which belonged to it, were full of windows and doors opening on to the +broad path leading to destruction. There were five, with fretted +wooden architraves filling up the whole of the ground floor, so that +you could see straight into the long, shallow hall whence there was no +exit save by a narrow slit in the middle, showing a dim, steep +staircase. It was always empty, this hall, though it was carpeted with +striped carpets, and painted elaborately in flowery arabesques of a +dull, pale, pink and flaming crimson; an odd mixture reminding you +vaguely of bloodstains on a rose-leaf. And there was a red lamp over +the centre door, which sent a rosy redness into the growing dusk; for +it was lit early. + +So was the pale--the palest of green lights--on the top storey which +you could see swinging from the roof when the coffee-ice shutters were +thrown back as the evening breeze came down the river. It was pale, +yet bright like the first star at sunsetting. + +And sometimes, but not often, if you watched in the early dusk you +might see the owner of the ice-cream house flit across the open +window. She was like a sugar-drop herself, rose or saffron decked with +silver leaf, a slender scrap of a creature who tinkled as she walked +and gave out a perfume of heavy scented flowers. But this was seldom; +more often you only heard the tinkle, either of silver or laughter, +since Burfâni--for that was her name--was of those who barter the one +for the other. It was in truth her hereditary trade, though neither +her father nor her mother had practised it; their rôle in life having +been that of pater and mater-familias. A very necessary one if the +race is to survive, and so in this generation, also, her brother had +undertaken the duty of marrying his first cousin. The young couple +being now, in the privacy and propriety of the second storey, engaged +in bringing up a fine family of girls to succeed to the top storey +when Burfâni's age should drive her to a lower place in life. In the +meantime, however, she allowed them so much a month; enough to enable +idle Zulfkar to fight quail in the bazaars and keep his wife Lâzîzan +in the very strictest seclusion--as befitted one filched from the +profession of bartering smiles in order to fulfil the first duty of a +woman--the rearing of babes. + +Thus, in more ways than one, the house was conglomerate. On the side +overlooking the broad path there was the stained rose-leaf hall, +empty, swept, and garnished, and the dark stair leading up and up to +the wandering star of a lamp twinkling out into the sunset amid the +sound of laughter and money. On the side giving upon narrow +respectability a hall full of household gear and dirt where the little +girls played, and a dark stair leading to a darker room where Lâzîzan +sat day after day bewailing her sad fate; for, of course, life would +have been much gayer over the way, since she was a beautiful woman. +Far more beautiful in a lavish, somewhat loud fashion, than the lady +belonging to the ice-cream house with her delicate, small face; but +that was the very reason why she had been chosen out from many to +carry on the race as it ought to be carried on. Burfâni, of course, +was clever, and that counted for much, but it never did in their +profession to rely on brains above looks. Nevertheless Lâzîzan, when +in a bad temper, was in the habit of telling herself that if she had +been taught to sing and dance, as the little lady had been taught, she +could have made the ice-cream house a more paying concern than it +was--to judge by the pittance they received from it! And this angry +complaint grew with her years until as she sat suckling her fourth +child, she felt sometimes as if she could strangle it, even though it +was a boy, and though as a rule she was an affectionate mother. In +truth the sheer animal instinct natural to so finely developed a +creature lasted out the two or three years during which her children +were hers alone; after that, when they began crawling downstairs and +playing in the hall where she might never go, she became jealous and +then forgot all about them. + +Nevertheless, the boy being only some nine months old when he was +suddenly carried off by one of those mysterious diseases common to +Indian children, she wept profusely, and told Burfâni--who, as in duty +bound, came round decently swathed in a _burka_ to offer condolence on +hearing of the sad event--that some childless one had doubtless cast a +shadow on him for his beauty's sake, seeing that--thank Heaven!--all +her children were beautiful. There was always a militant flavour +underlying the politeness of these two, and even the presence of the +quaint little overdressed dead baby awaiting its bier on the bed did +not prevent attack and defence. + +"They favour thee, sister," replied Burfâni, suavely. "In mind also, +to judge from what I see. Therefore I shall await God's will in the +future ere I choose one to educate." + +Lâzîzan tittered sarcastically, despite her half-dried tears. + +"'Tis my choice first, nevertheless. The best of this bunch in +looks--ay, in brains too, perchance--marries my brother's son, +according to custom. Sure my mother chose thus, and I must do the +same, sister." + +She spoke evenly, though for the moment the longing to strangle +something had transferred itself to the saffron-coloured sugar-drop +all spangled with silver which had emerged from its chrysalis of a +_burka_. What business had the poor thin creature with such garments +when _her_ beauty was hidden by mere rags? + +Burfâni laughed in her turn; an easy, indifferent laugh, and stretched +out her slim henna-dyed palm with the usual friendly offering of +cardamoms. + +"Take one, sister," she said soothingly, "they are good for spleen and +excessive grief. _Hai! Hai!_ thou wilt be forlorn, indeed, now thy +occupation is gone." + +Lâzîzan, with her mouth full of spices, tittered again more +artificially than ever. "I can do other things, perchance, beside +suckle babes. Maybe I weary of it, and am glad of a change." + +The saffron-coloured sugar-drop, seated on a low stool in front of the +white-sheeted bed with its solemn little gaily-dressed burden, looked +at its companion distastefully through its long lashes, and the +slender, henna-dyed hand, catching some loops of the jasmine chaplets +it wore, held them like a bouquet close to the crimson-tinted lips. + +"It is a virtuous task, my sister," quoth Burfâni, gravely sniffing +away at the heavy perfume, as if she needed something to make her +environment less objectionable. "Besides, it is ever a mistake to +forsake the profession of one's birth--" + +"And wherefore should I?" interrupted Lâzîzan, seizing her opportunity +recklessly. "Hast thou forsaken it, and are we not sisters?" + +Again a cold, critical look of dislike came from the long, narrow eyes +with their drowsy lids. + +"Such words are idle, sister. Forget them. Thou wouldst not find it +easier--" + +"How canst tell?" interrupted Lâzîzan once more. "As well say that +thou couldst put up with my life." + +The saffron and silver daintiness shifted its look towards the bed, +and the henna-dyed hand straightened a wrinkle in the sheet softly. + +"God knows!" she said with a sudden smile. "Anyhow, sister, 'tis not +wise to change one's profession as one grows old." + +As one grows old! This parting shot rankled long after the decent +_burka_ had slipped like a shadow through the swept and garnished +hall, and so up the dark stairs to the wandering starlight shining +feebly out into the sunset; long after the preacher and the bier, and +the family friends had carried the gaily-dressed baby to its grave, +leaving the mother to the select and secluded tears of her neighbours; +long after the little girls, wearied out with excitement, had fallen +asleep cuddled together peacefully, innocent of that choice in the +future; long after Zulfkar, full of liquor, tears, and curses, due to +a surplusage in the funeral expenses allowed by Burfâni, to parental +grief, and to bad luck at cards, came home, desirous of sympathy. He +got none, for Lâzîzan, despite her seclusion, had never lost the +empire which he felt she deserved as the handsomest woman he knew. +'Twas his own fault, she said curtly; he could marry another wife, +have more liquor, and gamble as much as he liked if he chose. It was +but a question of money, and if he were content to put up with +beggarly alms from his sister, that ended the matter. + +Whereupon, being in the maudlin stage of drink, he wept still more. + +It must have been fully three months after the baby's funeral +procession had gone down the respectable street, and so by a side +alley found its way into the broad path leading alike to destruction +and the graveyard, that Burfâni went round to her sister-in-law's +again. This time she was in pink and silver, like a rose-water ice, +and her words were cold as her looks. + +"Say what thou wilt, Lâzîzan, the youth lingers. Have I not windows to +my house? Have I not eyes? And such things shall not be bringing +disgrace to respectable families." + +Lâzîzan tittered as usual: "Lo! what a coil, because an idle stranger +lingers at the back instead of the front, 'Tis for thy sake doubtless, +sister, though thou art unkind. I wonder at it, seeing he is not +ill-favoured." + +"So thou _hast_ seen him! So be it. See him no more, or I tell +Zulfkar." + +"Tell him what? That thou hast cast eyes on a handsome stranger, and +because he comes not to thy call wouldst fasten the quarrel upon me? +Zulfkar is no fool, sister, he will not listen!" + +"If he listen not, he can leave my house--for 'tis mine. And mark my +words, Lâzîzan Bibi, no scandal comes nigh it." + +Cæsar's wife could not have spoken with greater unction, and in good +sooth she meant her words, since in no class is seclusion bound to be +more virtuous than in that to which Burfâni belonged. + +So, as the motes in the sunbeam of life danced along the broad path in +front of the ice-cream house, and drifted up its dark stair, the +painted and perfumed little lady under the pale green lamp kept an eye +upon the virtue of her family. Thus ere long it came to be Zulfkar's +turn to listen to his sister's warning, and as he listened he sucked +fiercely, confusedly, at the inlaid hookah which stood for the use of +approved visitors; for in good sooth there had been more money to +spend of late, and Lâzîzan was discreet enough save to those watchful, +experienced eyes. The sound of his hubblings and bubblings therefore +was his only answer, and they filled the wide, low, white-plastered +upper storey, frescoed round each coffee-shuttered window with flowery +devices, until Burfâni lost patience, and began coldly: + +"Hast been taking lessons of a camel, brother?" she asked, rustling +the tinsel-decked fan she held; and then suddenly she seemed to grasp +something, and the contemptuous indifference of her bearing changed to +passionate anger. Her silver-set feet clashed as they touched the +floor, and she rose first to a sitting posture, finally to stand +before the culprit, the very personification of righteous wrath. + +"So! thou hast taken gold! This is why thou canst ruffle with the best +at Gulâbun's--base-born parvenu who takes to the life out of +wickedness--as _she_ hath done, bringing disgrace to the screened +house where thy mother dwelt in decency. But thou dwellest there no +longer--thou eatest no bread of mine--I will choose my pupil from +another brood." + +"Nay, sister, 'tis not proved," stammered Zulfkar. + +"Not proved!" she went on still more passionately. "Nay, 'tis not +proved to thy neighbours, maybe, but to me? Mine eyes have seen--I +know the trick--and out thou goest. I will have no such doings in my +house, and so I warned her months ago. But there! what need for +railing? Live on her gold an thou wiliest, it shall not chink beside +mine." + +She sank back upon the silk coverlet again, and with a bitter laugh +began to rustle the tinsel fan once more. And Zulfkar, after +unavailing protests, slunk down the dark stairs, and so along the +street to a certain house over the liquor-seller's shop, about which a +noisy crowd gathered all day long. + +And that night screams and blows came from the second storey, and +unavailing curses on the mischief-maker. But if the latter heard them, +she gave no sign to the approved visitors drinking sherbets in the +cool upper storey with the windows set wide to the stars. + +It was Zulfkar beating his wife, of course, because she was so +handsome primarily; secondly, because she had been foolish enough to +be found out; thirdly, because even in liquor he was sharp enough to +recognise that Burfâni would keep her word. + +And she did. The supplies stopped from that day. Within a week the +second storey lay empty, while Lâzîzan wept tears of pain and spite in +a miserable little lodging in the very heart of the city. It is +difficult even to hint at the impotent rage the woman felt towards her +sister-in-law. Even Zulfkar's blows were forgotten in the one mad +longing to revenge herself upon the pink-and-saffron daintiness which +would not spare one crumb from a full table. For so to Lâzîzan's +coarse, passionate nature the matter presented itself, bringing with +it a fierce delight at the perfections of her own lover. He had +deserted her for the time, it is true, but that was the way of lovers +when husbands were angry; by-and-by he would come back, and there +would be peace, since Zulfkar must have gold. + +So ran her calculations; but she reckoned without a certain fierce +intolerance which the latter shared with his sister; also somewhat +prematurely on an immediate emptying of his pockets. But luck was not +all against him; the cards favoured him. And so, when a few days after +the flitting from the second storey, she, being sick to death of +dulness, thought the time had come for self-assertion, she found +herself mistaken. Zulfkar, still full of Dutch courage, fell upon her +again, and beat her most unmercifully, finishing up with an +intimidatory slash at her nose. It was not much, not half so serious +as the beating, but the very thought of possible disfigurement drove +her mad, and the madness drove her to a corner where she could plan +revenge while Zulfkar slept heavily--for he was more than half drunk. +And _this_, too, was the fault of the saffron-and-rose devil in the +upper storey, who had her amusement and spied upon other women's ways. +And _this_ meant days more ere she, Lâzîzan, would be presentable, +even if she did not carry the mark to her grave, and all because that +she-devil was jealous--jealous of _her_ lover! + +Oh for revenge! And why not? The door was unlatched, since Zulfkar had +forgotten it in his anger; the streets were deserted. Even the broad +path down by the river would be asleep, the green light gone from +above, only the red lamp swinging over the outer door, sending a +glow.... Fire! The thought leapt to her brain like a flame itself. Why +not? Zulfkar had purposely kept--all unbeknown to the she-devil--a +second key to that empty second floor, and he was in a drunken sleep. +If she stole it--if she took the bottle of paraffin--if she set fire +to the wooden partition separating the stairs--if she broke the red +lamp and pretended that was it-- + +She did not stop to think. She had begun the task almost before she +had thought out the details, and was fumbling in Zulfkar's pockets as +he lay. And there were two bottles of paraffin in the corner; that was +because he had brought one home, and the market-woman another by +mistake. So much the better, so much the bigger blaze. Then out into +the street, not forgetting a box of safety matches--strange companions +to such a task. She knew her way well, having wandered free enough as +a child before the lot was drawn, the die cast which sent her to +suckle babes. Yet, being a woman beset by a thousand superstitious +fears, it needed all her courage ere she found herself face to face +with the thin wooden partition surrounding the steep stair leading +upwards. How many times had she not listened to feet ascending those +unseen stairs, and heard the tinkle of laughter as the unseen door +above opened? + +Well, it would blaze finely, and cut off at once all means of escape. +A devilish plan indeed, and the leaping flames, ere she left them to +their task, showed the face of a fiend incarnate. + +And so to wait for the few minutes before the whole world must +know that the saffron and the rose daintiness was doomed. No more +laughter--no more lovers--that would be for her, Lâzîzan, not for the +other with her cold sneers. + +A licking tongue of flame showed for an instant and made her pray +Heaven none might see it too soon. Then a crackle, a puff of smoke, +next a cry of fire, but, thank Heaven, only from the broad path. And +what good were the running feet, what good the shouts of the crowd in +which her shrouded figure passed unnoticed, unless the upper storey +had wings? For the stairs must be gone--hopelessly gone--by this time. + +More than the stairs, for with one sudden blaze the lath-and-plaster +house seemed to melt like ice itself before the sheet of flame which +the soft night wind bent riverwards. + +And still the top storey slept, or was it suffocated? No! there was +some one at the window--some one gesticulating wildly. A man--not a +woman. + +"Throw yourself down!" cried an authoritative foreign voice, "'tis +your only chance." + +Surely, since the ice melted visibly during the sudden hush which fell +upon the jostling crowd. + +"Throw yourself down!" came the order again; "we'll catch you if we +can. Stand back, good people." + +"Quick! it's your last chance," came the inexorable voice once more. +Then there was a leap, a scream--a crash, as in his despair the man +overleapt the mark and fell among the parting crowd. Fell right at +Lâzîzan's feet face uppermost. + +And it was the face of the handsome stranger--of her lover. + +Her shriek echoed his as she flung herself beside him. And at the +sound something white and ghostlike slipped back from the window with +a tinkle of laughter. + +"Burfâni! Burfâni!" shouted the crowd. "Drop gently--we'll save you! +Burfâni! Burfâni!" + +But there was no answer; and the next moment with a roar and a crash +Vice fell upon Virtue, and both together upon the swept and garnished +hall and the hall where the little girls had played. + +The ice-cream house had become a blazing pile of fire. + + + + + THE SHÂHBÂSH WALLAH + + +Shâhbâsh, Bhaiyan, Shâhbâsh! + +The words, signifying "Bravo, boys, bravo!" came in a despondent drawl +from the coolie leaning against the ladder--one of those crazy bamboo +ladders with its rungs tied on with grass twine at varying slants and +distances, whereon the Indian house-decorator loves to spend long days +in company with a pot of colour-wash and a grass brush made from the +leavings of the twine. + +There were two such ladders in the bare, oblong, lofty room, set round +with open doors and windows, and on each was balanced a man, a pot, +and a brush--all doing nothing. So was the coolie below. + +He was a small, slight man, with a dejected expression. Stark naked, +save for two yards or so of coarse muslin wisped about his short hair +and a similar length knotted about his middle. What colour either had +been originally could not be guessed, since both were completely +covered with splashes of colour-wash--blue, green, yellow, and pink. +So was his thin body, which, as he stood immovable at the bottom of +the ladder, looked as if it was carved out of some rare scagiola. + +For they were doing up the hospital in Fort Lawrence, and +Surgeon-Captain Terence O'Brien, of the 10th Sikh Pioneers--then +engaged in making military roads over the Beloochistan frontier--had +an eye for colour. Not so, however, Surgeon-Major Pringle, who that +very morning had marched in with the detachment of young English +recruits which had been sent to take possession of the newly enlarged +fort. It was a queer mud building, looking as if it were a part of the +mud promontory which blocked a sharp turn in the sun-dried, heat-baked +mud valley, through which the dry bed of a watercourse twisted like +the dry skin of a snake. Everything dry, everything mud, baked to +hardness by the fierce sun. It was an ugly country in one way, +picturesque in another, with its yawning fissures cracking the mud +hills into miniature peaks and passes, its almost leafless flowering +shrubs, aromatic, honeyful, and its clouds of painted butterflies. A +country in which colour was lost in sheer excess of sunshine. + +That, however, was not the reason why Surgeon-Captain O'Brien had +painted his wards to match Joseph's coat. As he explained to +Surgeon-Major Pringle, who, as senior officer, took over charge, it +was wiser, in his opinion--especially with youngsters about--to call +wards by the colour of their walls rather than by the diseases to be +treated in them; since if a patient "wance found out what was really +wrong with his insoide, he was sure to get it insthanter." + +The Surgeon-Major, fresh from England and professional +precisions--fresh also to India and its appeals to the +imagination--had felt it impossible to combat such statements +seriously. Besides, there was no use in doing so. The walls were past +remedy for that year, and even the _post-mortem_ house--that last +refuge of all diseases--was being washed bright pink; a colour which, +according to Terence O'Brien, was "a nice, cheerful tint, that could +not give annyone, not even a corpse, the blues." + +In the course of which piece of work the small man at the foot of the +ladder was becoming more and more like a statue in _rosso antico_, as +he repeated: "_Shâhbâsh, bhaiyan, shâhbâsh!_" at regular intervals. + +His voice had no resonance, and not an atom of enthusiasm about it; +but, like a breeze among rain-soaked trees, it always provoked a +pitter-patter of falling drops--a patter of pink splashes like huge +tears--upon the concrete floor and the scagiola figure. For the words +set the brushes above moving slowly for a while; then the spasm of +energy passed, all was still again, until a fresh "Bravo, boys, +bravo!" was followed by a fresh shower of pink tears. + +"Lazy brutes!" came a boy's voice from the group of young recruits who +were enjoying a well-earned rest after having marched in fifteen +miles, carrying their kits as if they had been born with them, and +settling down into quarters as if they were veterans. For they were +smart boys, belonging to a smart regiment, whose recruiting ground lay +far from slums and scums; one whose officers were smart also, and kept +up the tone of their men by teaching them a superior tolerance for the +rest of the world. "Jest look at that feller--like an alley taw. He +ain't done a blessed 'and's turn since I began to watch 'im." They +were seated on some shady mud steps right over against the hospital +compound, and the _post-mortem_ house being separate from the wards, +and having all its many windows and doors set wide, the inside of it +was as plainly visible as the out. + +"Rum lot," assented another voice with the same ring of wholesome +self-complacency in it. "I arst one of the Sickees, as seems a decent +chap for a nigger and knows a little decent lingo, wot the spotted pig +was at with his everlastin' _shabbashes_, an' 'e says it's to put +courage to the Johnnies up top. Not that I don't say I shouldn't +cotton myself much to them ladders, that's more like caterpillars than +a decent pair o' 'ouse-steps. A poor lot--that's wot they are, as +doesn't know the differ in holt between a nail and a bit o' twine." + +"Well, mates," said a third voice, "all I can say is that if they +ain't got no more courage than _shâhbâsh_ can put to them, it's no +wonder we licks the blooming lot of them--as we does constant." + +There was a faint laugh first, and then the group sucked at their +pipes decisively as they watched the doings in the _post-mortem_. +Though they would have scouted the suggestion, the _shâhbâsh wallah_ +had justified his calling; for patriotism brings courage with it. + +He did not trouble his head about justification, however. Some one, in +his experience, always did the shouting, and it suited him better than +more active occupation, for he was lame; stiff, too, in his back. +Surgeon-Major Pringle, coming in later to find the _post-mortem_ very +much as it had been hours before, looked at him distastefully, and +began a remark about what two English workmen could have done, which +Surgeon-Captain Terence O'Brien interrupted with his charming smile: +"Sure, sir, the sun rises a considerable trifle airlier East than +West, an' that's enough energy for wan hemisphere. Besides, ye can't +get on in India without a _shâhbâsh wallah_. Or elsewhere, for that +matter. Ye always require 'the something not ourselves which makes for +righteousness'--" + +"Makes for fiddlesticks!" muttered the senior under his breath, adding +aloud, "Who the dickens is the _shâhbâsh wallah_ when he is at home, +and what's his work?" He asked the question almost reluctantly, for +his junior's extremely varied information had, since the morning, +imparted a vague uncertainty to a round world which had hitherto, in +Dr. Pringle's estimation of it, been absolutely sure--cocksure! + +"What is he? Oh! he's a variety of names. He's objective reality, +moral sanction, antecedent experience, unconditioned good. Ye can take +yer choice of the lot, sir; and if ye can't win the thrick with +metaphysics--I can't, and that's the thruth--play thrumps. +Sentiment!--sympathy! Ye can't go wrong there. Ye can't leave them out +of life's equation, East or West. Just some one--a fool, maybe--to say +ye're a fine fellow, an' no misthake, at the very moment whin ye know +ye're not. Biogenesis, sir, is the Law of Life. As Schopenhauer says, +the secret that two is wan, is the--" + +His senior gave an exasperated sigh, and preferred changing the +subject. So at the appointed time, no sooner, no later, the last +patter of pink tears fell from the brushes upon the floor of the +_post-mortem_ and upon the still figure, which might have been a +corpse save for its drowsy applause--"Bravo, boys, bravo!" Then the +caterpillar ladders, with the decorators and the pots of colour-wash +and the brushes still attached to them, crawled away, and the +_shâhbâsh wallah_ followed in their wake, his skin bearing mute +evidence to the amount of work he had provoked. + +His turban and waistcloth testified to it for days--in lessening +variety of tint as the layers of pink, green, blue, and yellow +splashes wore off--for at least a fortnight, during which time +Surgeon-Major Pringle, busy in making all things conform to his ideal, +constantly came across the _shâhbâsh wallah_ bestowing praise where, +in the doctor's opinion, none was deserved. What right, for instance, +had the water-carriers filling their pots, the sweepers removing the +refuse, to senseless commendation for the performance of their daily +round, their common task? + +Especially when it was so ill performed; even in the matter of +punkah-pulling, a subject on which the native might be credited with +some knowledge. Surgeon-Major Pringle seethed with repressed +resentment for days over the intermittent pulse of the office punkah, +and finally, in a white heat of discomfort and indignation, burst out +into the verandah, harangued the coolie at length, and in the fulness +of Western energy went so far as to show him how to keep up a regular, +even swing. His masterly grasp of a till then untouched occupation not +only satisfied himself but also the _shâhbâsh wallah_, who, as usual, +was lounging about in the verandah doing nothing. So, of course, his +"_Shâhbâsh, jee, shâhbâsh_," preceded Surgeon-Major Pringle's hasty +return to the office and prepared Terence O'Brien for the dictum that +the offender must be sent about his business; for _if_ he was a +camp-follower he _must_ have some business, some regular work. + +"Worrk, is it?" echoed Terence with his charming smile of pure +sympathy. "Be jabers! yes. Worrk--plenty, but not regular, as a rule. +The man's a torch-bearer. If it happens to be a dark night, and +annybody wants a _dhooli_, he carries the torch for it." + +Dr. Pringle's resentful surprise made him stutter: "Do you mean to say +that--that--that--that--the public money--the ratepayers' money--is +wasted in entertaining a whole man for so trivial a task?" + +"Trivial, is it? When he's a pillar of fire by night an' a cloud of +witnesses by day? And then he isn't a whole man, sir, at all at all. +Wan of his legs is shorter than the other. I had to break it twice, +sir, to get it as straight as it is. Thin, I've grave doubts about his +spinal column; and as I trepanned him myself, I know his head isn't +sound. It was two ton of earth fell on him, sir, last rains, when he +was givin' a drink to wan of the Sikhs that got hurt blasting. It's +nasty, shifty stuff, sir, is the mud in these low hills--nasty silted +alluvial stuff, with a bias in it. So, poor divvle! seeing he wasn't +fit for much but the hospital, I put him to the staff of it. And he +kapes things going. Indeed, I wouldn't take it upon myself to say that +he doesn't do the native patients as much good as half the drugs I +exhibit to the unfortunate craythurs, since for sheer mystherious +dispensations of Providence commend me to the British pharmacop[oe]ia." + +Once again Surgeon-Major Pringle felt that professional dignity could +best be served by silent contempt, and orders that the offender was, +at least, not to loaf about the verandahs. + +But the fates were against the fiat. In the moonless half of May, +driest of all months, a Hindu returning from Hurdwar fell sick, and +half-an-hour after the report, Surgeon-Captain Terence O'Brien, going +out of the ward with his senior, paused in his cheerful whistling of +"Belave me, if all those endearing young charms," to say under his +breath, "Cholera, mild type." Now cholera, no matter of what type, has +an ugly face when seen for the first time, especially when the face +which looks into it, wondering if it means life or death, has youth in +its eyes. So in the dark nights the _dhooli_ came into requisition, +and with it the torch-bearer, until the green and the blue and yellow +wards overflowed into the verandahs, and even the pink _post-mortem_ +claimed its final share of boys. Not a large one, however, since, as +Terence O'Brien said, "It was wan of those epidemics when ye couldn't +rightly say a man had cholera till he died of it." + +It was bad enough, however, to make the Surgeon-Major, who had never +seen one before, set to work when it passed, suddenly as it had come, +to cipher out averages, and tabulate treatments, with a view to what +is called future guidance. And so, as he confided to his assistant +with great complacency, it became clear as daylight that the largest +percentage of recoveries, their rapidity, and as a natural corollary +the incidence of mildness in the attack itself, seemed in connection +with the position of the cots. Those close to the doors, or actually +on the verandahs, were the most fortunate, and so he was inclined to +believe in the value of currents of fresh air. + +"Fresh air, is it?" echoed Terence, with an encouraging smile. "Maybe; +maybe not. God knows, it may be anything in the wide wurrld, since +there's but wan thing you can bet your bottom dollar on in cholera, +sir, and that is that ye can't tell anything about it for certain, and +that your experience of wan epidemic won't be that of the next." + +"Neither does your experience, Mr. O'Brien," retorted his senior, +sarcastically, "militate against mine being more fortunate. I mean to +leave no stone unturned to arrive at reliable _data_ on points which +appear to me to have been overlooked. For instance, I shall begin by +asking those cases of recovery if they remember anything which seemed +at the time to bring them relief, to stimulate in them that vitality +which it is so essential to preserve." + +In pursuance of which plan he went out then and there to the verandah, +where a dozen or more lank boys were lounging about listlessly, just +beginning to feel that life might soon mean more than a grey duffle +dressing-gown and a long chair. + +"No, sir," said the first, firmly. "I disremember anythin' that +done me good. I jest lay with a sickenin' pain in my inside, an' a +don't-care-if-I-do feelin' outside." He paused, and another boy took +up the tale sympathetically. + +"So it was. A reg'lar, don't-care except w'en that little 'eathen--'im +that's always saying _shâhbâsh_, sir, come along; an' that seem +to me most times. 'E made me feel a blamed sight--beggin' pardon, +sir--worse. For I kep' thinkin' of where I see 'im first, like a alley +taw in the dead 'ouse; and the dead 'ouse isn't a cheerful sorter +think w'en you ain't sure but wot you're going there. It made me--" he +paused in his turn. + +"Made you what?" asked Terence O'Brien, who had followed to listen. + +"Give me the 'orrors, sir, till I'd 'ave swopped all I knew to kick +'im quiet; but not bein' able, I jest lay and kep' it for 'im against +I could, till it seemed like as I must; an' so I will." + +"In cases of extreme nervous depression, sir," began the junior, +mischievously, "a counter irritant--" + +"Pshaw!" interrupted Dr. Pringle, angrily, and walked back with great +dignity to the office. + +But the conversation thus started lingered among the grey +dressing-gowns, the result of comparing notes being a general verdict +that "Alley taw" deserved that kicking. He did not actually get it, +however; the boys were too big, and he too small for that. But he sank +into still greater disrepute, becoming, in truth, that most unenviable +of all things not made nor created, but begotten of idle wit--a +garrison butt. Not that he seemed to care much. He grew more furtive +in his lounging, but nothing seemed to disturb the divine calm of his +commendation for the world which he had created for himself with his +"Bravo, boys, bravo!" Behold, all things in it were very good! That, +at least, was Terence O'Brien's fanciful way of looking at the +position. As he went about his work whistling "Belave me, if all those +endearing young charms"--a tune which, he said, cheered the boys--he +would often pause to smile at the _shâhbâsh wallah_. After a time, +however, the smile would change to a quick narrowing of the eyes, as +if something in the bearing of the man was puzzling. Finally, one day, +coming upon the man sidling along a bit of brick wall, which had been +built to strengthen a crack in the mud one overhanging the dry +watercourse, he pulled up, asked a few rapid questions, and then +lifted the man's eyelids and peered into the soft brown eyes, as if he +wanted to see through them to a crack he knew of in the back of the +man's skull. + +"And you are sure you see as well as ever?" he asked again. + +"Quite as well, _Huzoor_," came the answer, with a faint tremor in it. +"I can see to carry the torch on the darkest of nights if it is +wanted, _Huzoor!_" + +"Hm!" said Dr. O'Brien, doubtfully, promising himself to test the +truth of this statement. But the fates again decreed otherwise. The +next day's mail brought orders for him to go and act elsewhere for a +senior on two months' leave. + +Dr. Pringle was not sorry. How could you collaborate properly with a +man who calmly admitted that at a pinch he had used a bullet-mould to +extract a tooth? + +The monsoon had long since broken in the plains ere the young doctor +returned; but in the arid tract in which Fort Lawrence lay rain came +seldom at any time. And that was a year of abnormal drought. The +fissures in the mud seemed to widen with the heat, and the fringe of +green oleanders which followed every turn of the dry watercourse, +mutely witnessing to unseen moisture below, wilted and drooped. In the +new-built fort itself a crack or two showed in the level platform +jutting out across the low valley on which the building stood, and in +more than one place portions of the low mud-cliffs crumbled and broke +away. The whole earth, indeed, seemed agape with thirst. + +But water in plenty came at last. On the very day, in fact, when +Terence O'Brien returned to the fort, which he reached on foot, having +had to leave his _dhooli_ behind, owing to a small slip on the road; +nevertheless, as he crossed over from the mess to his quarters close +to the hospital that evening, he told himself that he had the devil's +own luck to be there at all. For the rain was then hitting the hard +ground with a distinct thud, and spurting up from it in spray, showing +white against the black mirk of the night. And the rush of the stream +filling up the dry bed of the watercourse, and playing marbles with +the boulders, was like a lion's roar. + +It did not keep him awake, however, for he was dead tired. So he slept +the sleep of the just. For how long he did not know. It was darker +than ever when he woke suddenly--why he knew not, and with the same +blind instinct was out into the open, quick as he could grope his way. + +Not an instant too soon, either. A deafening crash told him that, +though he could not see his own hand. The rain had ceased, but the +rush of the river dulled hearing to all lesser sounds. As he stood +dazed, he staggered, slipped, almost fell. Was that an earthquake, or +was the solid ground parting somewhere close at hand? And if his house +was down, how about the hospital and the sick folk? + +He turned at the thought and ran till, in the dark and the silence of +that overwhelming roar, he came full tilt upon some one else running +in the dark also. It was the Surgeon-Major. + +"The hospital's down. Have you a light--anything--a match?" panted Dr. +Pringle. "We must have a light to see--" + +"_Oh, masâl! Oh, masâl-jee!_" (Oh, the torch! Oh, the torch-bearer!) +shouted Terence at the top of his voice as he ran on till stopped by +something blocking the way. Ruins! And that was the sound of voices. + +"What's up?" he cried. + +"Don' know, sir," came from unseen hearers. "Part o' the 'orspital's +down, but we can't see. It's a slide o' some sort, for there's a crack +right across nigh under our feet. If we could get a light!" + +"_Oh, masâl! Oh, masâl-jee!_" The doctor's voice rang out again +towards the camp-followers' lines, but the roar was deafening. And in +the night, when all men are asleep, the news of disaster travels +slowly. Yet without a light it was impossible even to realise what had +happened, still less to help the sick who might lie crushed. + +"_Oh, masâl! Oh, masâl-jee!_--thank God! there's a light at last." + +There was, in the far distance across the quadrangle. But it was not a +torch; it was only an officer in a gorgeous sleeping-suit running with +a bedroom candle. Still it was a light! + +"Come on, man!" shouted Terence O'Brien, as it slackened speed, +paused, stopped dead. His was the only voice that seemed to carry +through the roar. + +But the gay sleeping-suit stood still, waving its candle. + +"It's the crack, sir," called some one in Terence O'Brien's ear. "It +goes right across, I expect--we'd best find out first." + +It did. A yawning fissure, twenty feet wide, had cut the hospital +compound in two, and isolated one angle of the fort--that nearest the +river--from the rest. Twenty feet wide, at least, judged by the +glimmer of light! And how deep? Had the river cut it? Was it only a +matter of time when the mud island on which they stood should be swept +away? And what were the means of escape? There was more light now; +more bedroom candles and sleeping-suits; a lamp or two, and others +behind, as the boys--last to wake--came running, to pause like the +first-comers, at the unpassable gulf; for the more it could be seen, +the more difficult seemed the task of crossing it at once. By-and-by, +perhaps, with ladders and ropes it would be possible--but now? Terence +O'Brien, feeling the "now" imperative, skirted the crumbling edge +almost too near for safety in his eagerness to find some foothold for +a daring man; but there was none. True, the brick wall, built to +strengthen the cracked mud one, still bridged the extreme end of the +fissure, looking as if the mud had deliberately shrunk from its +intrusion. It hung there half seen, on God knows what slender +foundation--perhaps on none. But it could give no help. To trust it +would be madness; a touch might send it down into the river below. No! +Since none could cross the gap there must be more light on the farther +side; torches, a bonfire, anything to pierce the dark and let men see +how to help themselves and other men! + +"_Oh, masâl! Oh, masâl-jee-ân!_" The cry went out with all the force +of his lungs. Surely the camp-followers must be awake by now. + +One was, at any rate; for, surrounded by a halo from the faggot of +blazing pitch-pine it carried, a figure showed upon the path worn, +close to the mud walls of the native quarters, by the foot-tracks of +those whose duty took them to the hospital. It was the _shâhbâsh +wallah_, coming slowly, almost indifferently, in answer to the call; +coming as if to his ordinary duty towards the growing fringe of +ineffectual candles and eager men bordering the impossible. That was +better! Given half-a-dozen more such haloes--and there were plenty if +they would only come--and eager men on the other side would see how to +help themselves and their comrades! + +But no other halo appeared behind the one which followed the +foot-track of others so closely; and so once again the call was +given-- + +"_Oh, masâl! Oh, masâl-jee-ân! Oh, masâl! Oh, masâl-jee!_" + +"_Hâzr, Huzoor!_" (Present, sir). + +The nearness of the voice made Terence O'Brien look up, for it was +the first voice he had heard clearly from the other side against that +roar of the river. But as he looked another voice beside him said +hurriedly-- + +"My God! he's coming across!" + +He was. Surrounded by the halo of his own light, and keeping +religiously to the beaten path, the _shâhbâsh wallah_, leaving the mud +wall of the quarters, had struck the outer brick one as it stood, +supported for a few yards by a spit of earth upon which the foot-track +showed as the light passed. A spit narrowing to nothing--no! not to +nothing, but to a mere ledge of earth and mortar clinging like a +swallow's nest to the brick--wider here, narrower there, yet still +able to give faint foothold upon the traces of those feet which had +passed and repassed so often to their trivial round, their common +task. Foothold! Ay! But what of the brain guiding the feet? What of +the courage guiding the brain? + +And even then, what of the foundation? + +A sort of murmur rose above the roar. "He can't do +it--impossible--tell him. Call to him, O'Brien. Tell him not to try." + +The doctor stood for one second watching the figure centring its +circle of light against the background of wall; then, even though +there was no need for it, his voice fell to a whisper. "Hush!" he +said. "Don't hustle him. By the Lord who made me, he doesn't know; +he's feeling his way every inch by the wall! He's blind, and by God! +if anybody can do it, he will." + +He did. Step by step, slowly, confidently, in the footsteps of others. + +And the great cry of "Bravo, brother, bravo!" which went up from both +sides of the gap as he and his torch stepped on to firm ground, +brought him as much surprise as a voice from heaven might have done. + + + * * * * * + + +"Pressure on the brain!" said Surgeon-Captain Terence O'Brien, about +three weeks after this, when he and Dr. Pringle had had a consultation +over the _shâhbâsh wallah_. He was not only blind now, but there was a +drag in the good leg as he limped about, over which both doctors shook +their heads. "And there's nothing to be done that I can see. The bhoys +will miss him!" + +That was true. Alley Taw had come into favour since the night when, as +Terence phrased it, "he had done a brave deed without doing it," and +by failing to see the evil, had enabled other men to do good. For the +torch had not disclosed irretrievable disaster, and by timely rescue +not a life had been lost. + +Surgeon-Major Pringle frowned. He was beginning to understand his +India a little, but the idea of the _shâhbâsh wallah_ being a useful +member of society was still as a red rag to a bull. And so, out of +sheer contrariety, he began to talk doctor's talk as to the +possibility of this or that. + +"It's life or death, annyhow," said the junior, shaking his head, "but +I don't see it. I wouldn't thry it myself--not now at any rate." + +Perhaps not then. But after a month or two more he said, "It's your +suggestion; I don't belave it can be done; but you may as well thry." + +For the _shâhbâsh wallah_, half paralysed, had even given up his cry. +So, part of the hospital being still under repair, they took him to +the pink _post-mortem_ house and set all the doors and windows wide +for more light. He was quite unconscious by that time, so Terence +O'Brien only had the chloroform handy, and kept his finger on the +pulse. Half-a-dozen or more of the boys were on the mud steps over +against the hospital compound waiting to hear the _shâhbâsh wallah's_ +fate. But you might have heard a pin drop in the _post-mortem_, +save for the occasional quick request for this or that as the +Surgeon-Major, with the Surgeon-Captain's eyes watching him, set his +whole soul and heart and brain on doing something that had never been +done before. + +So the minutes passed. Was it to be failure or success? The +Surgeon-Major's fingers were deft--none defter. + +The minutes passed to hours. That which had to be done had to be done +with one touch light as a feather, steady as a rock, perfect in its +performance, or not at all. + +And still the minutes passed. Terence O'Brien's face was losing some +of its eagerness in sympathy, Dr. Pringle's gaining it in anxiety; for +clear, insistent, not-to-be-silenced doubt was making itself heard. +Only the _shâhbâsh wallah_ cared not at all as he lay like a corpse. + +It had come to the last chance. The last; and Dr. Pringle, with a +pulse of wild resentment at his own weakness, realised that his nerve +was going, his hand shaking. Still, it had to be done. The splinter of +bone raised--the whole process he had thought out as the last chance +gone through. He steadied himself and began. Failure or success? +Failure--failure--failure! The word beat in on his heart and brain, +bringing unsteadiness to both. + +"Dresser, the chloroform," said Terence O'Brien, sharply; for there +was a quiver in the man's eyelids. + +But ere the deadening drug did its work, the _shâhbâsh wallah's_ +brain, set free to work along familiar lines by the raising of that +splintered bone, had sent its old message to his lips-- + +"_Shâhbâsh, bhaiyan, shâhbâsh!_" + +In telling the story Dr. Pringle says no more; generally because he +cannot. + +But after a time, if you are a brother craftsman, he will give you all +details of the biggest and most successful operation he ever did. + +And though he is slow to allow the corollary, he never denies that the +_shâhbâsh wallah's_ verdict put courage into him. + + + + + THE MOST NAILING BAD SHOT IN + CREATION + + +This again is one of poor Craddock's stories which he told me +when we were stretching a steel-edged ribbon of rail across shifting +sandhills; that ribbon uniting West to East on which, a few years +later, he met his death in trying to rid the permanent-way of +something which Fate had decreed should be permanently in the way. + +It happened in mutiny time; shortly after his appearance down the +King's Well, which is told elsewhere. He was serving as a volunteer in +one of the breastworks which, as the long hot-weather months dragged +by, began to seam and sear the face of the red rocks on the Ridge at +Delhi; creeping nearer and nearer to the red face of the city wall. + +And with him, as the catch phrase runs, "lay" Joe Banks, the +Yorkshireman; tall, stolid, silent. Good-looking also, with a thick +close crop of curly brown hair and hard, honest blue eyes. He was not +stupid by any means; only phenomenally silent, except when the talk +turned on women, and then, as Craddock put it tersely, he "damned +free"; perhaps because, as the latter worthy used to add with a +suspicion of sympathy in his drink-blurred face, he had "cared a sight +deal too much for one woman to 'ave much likin' left for the lot." + +To one side of the breastwork lay a dry ravine where every day the +vipers used to sun themselves on the hot red rocks. Just across it, +within range, rose a small Mahomedan shrine amid sparse brushwood, +which thickened a bit till it was barred by the ruined wall of a +garden where the slow oxen circled round the well, sending runnels of +slippery-looking water to the scented shade of citrons, roses, and +mangoes, heedless of the great cannon-balls which sometimes came +trundling, like playthings, down the wide walks. Not often, though, +for the stress of strife lay at the other angle of the breastwork +which faced the city wall. + +Still, those who came to smoke a hard-earned pipe in what was the +safest spot in the outpost, soon found that the pious-looking shrine, +the peaceful garden, were not always so innocent as they looked. In +the dusk of dark or dawn they were tenanted by what, after a time, the +men agreed to call the "most nailin' bad shot in creation." "The +direction wasn't, so to speak, so bad, sir," Craddock used to explain +to me. "'E'd about 'ave 'it the sea-serpent for length; it was the +elevation which, as Bull's-eyes said, savin' your presence, sir, was +d----ficient. The top o' the Monument was about in it, sir, an' that +was why the only feller as really use langwidge was Joe Banks; for 'e +was a 'ead and shoulders higher than the lot o' us." So when, in the +dark, a flash used to glimmer for a second among the brushwood like a +firefly, the men learnt to sing out, "That's for you, Joey," "Duck, my +darlin', duck," and other witticisms of that kind, until the big +Yorkshireman's face darkened beyond jesting-point: for he had the +devil's own temper when roused. It was this, joined to his extreme +good looks and a somewhat hazy recollection of the Bible and the +classics among the volunteers, which earned him the nickname of +Apollyon. So to soothe him, some of the wilder spirits would organise +a charge over the ravine, scattering, perhaps, a few drowsy adders +which had forgotten to go to bed; but nothing else. The blind old +fakeer in the shrine was always fast asleep, the bullocks in the +garden circling slowly, driven by a drowsy lad curled up behind them. + +So the days passed; and, despite practice, the Most Nailin' Bad Shot +shot badly as ever. The odds, however, as the men pointed out gravely +to Apollyon, kept on improving; so that sooner or later there must be +a "casualty" in the garrison of Number One outpost. Joey, too, would +get careless; he wouldn't smart enough, etc., etc. And, sure enough, +one evening just as the moonlight was mixing with the daylight, and +Joey Banks had risen to his full height in a huff because Craddock for +once had sided against him in the perennial argument as to whether it +was worth while fighting for women who didn't know what they would be +at, and hadn't the pluck of a mouse, one of these firefly flashes was +followed by a sudden clapping of the giant's hands to the very crown +of his head. + +"We looked, sir," Craddock used to say gravely, with that reminiscent +biblical knowledge of his which had doubtless supplied Apollyon, "for +'im to fall dead; as 'e deserve rich; for 'e'd been damnin' uncommon +free, sir. But 'e only use it worse. And then, savin' your presence, +sir, we see that 'e'd 'ad, so ter speak, a narrer-gauge line laid down +thro' 'is jungle--right through 'is curls, sir. Lordy! 'ow we laughed. +It was a lady, we told 'im, as wanted some locks an' no mistake. It +sorter made 'im mad, for 'e just stooped and gathered the lot--bein' +fair, you could see it shinin' in the dust--together. + +"'She shall 'ave 'em, never fear,' 'e says, quiet like. 'Yes! the +person who fired that shot shall 'ave more o' my 'air than he reckons +for.'" + +Just at that moment, however, one of those sudden alarms which for +three months kept the men and officers before Delhi on the alert by +day and night broke up the company, and so Joe Banks' loss passed out +of most minds. Except his own, of course. It lingered there, aided by +that narrow gauge over his brain on which the cool night wind blew +pleasantly. + +So when the alarm passed, instead of coming back to rest, he crept out +surreptitiously by the back of the breastwork, for such sorties were +strictly out of order, and so by a slant downwards across the ravine. +It was a brilliant moonlight night, and he caught the sparkle of many +a deadly pair of eyes among the rocks. But he was in no mood to step +aside from any danger, and once beyond fear of recall he strode along +straight as if the whole place belonged to him; it might have, for all +the opposition he met. The fakeer was asleep as usual, the oxen +circling round the well, and in the scented shade of the roses and +citrons he could find nothing save some drowsy birds who fluttered and +twittered helplessly as his tall head forced a way through the +thickets. + +Feeling ill-used, he set his face back towards the breastwork, until +the extraordinary peace of the moonlit scene, which, as Craddock +asserted, used in the interval of onslaught to make the beleaguered +city look like the New Jerusalem, brought him to a standstill; first +to look, then to take out his pipe; finally to sit on a rock and think +vaguely of the Yorkshire wolds and of some one, no doubt, who had not +had the courage of her convictions, for after a bit he murmured, "She +were a raight down coward, that's where it is, aw'm thinkin'." + +He had not much time for reflection, however, for at that moment there +was a flash, a crack, and something whizzed past his left ear. The +Most Nailin' Bad Shot was better at close quarters. His blood was up +in a second, and without pausing to pick up his musket, which he had +laid aside, he was off to the spot whence the flash had come. And +there! _whoop forward! gone away!_ was his quarry for sure, running +like a hare for some hiding-place, no doubt, among the rocks. It might +have been reached, for romance tells of many secret passages between +palaces inside the city and gardens without, but for a true lover's +knot of viper which refused to budge from the path; which made the +flying figure give a screech, and the flying feet, in their effort to +overleap it, miss footing and fall. + +The next instant Joe Banks was on it as it lay, and conscious even in +his hurry that what he gripped was something young and soft--a boy, no +doubt--devil's spawn. + +"Aw'm go[=a]n ter choak ye on t' hair," he said grimly. "Open yer +domed mouth, d'ye hear?" + +It was almost as if the prostrate figure understood; but the next +instant a set of gleaming white teeth had closed like a squirrel's +round Joe Banks' first finger. He let off an echoing yell to the +previous screech, and an oddly satisfied smile came to the fierce +little face he could scarcely see for his big hand. It was an oval +face, smooth as a girl's. + +"That's nowt to Joey Banks, lad, he can kill anoother waay," he +growled savagely, as he shifted a knee to press his prisoner down, +loosened his left hand, his right being detained, and deliberately +drew out one of the many knives stuck in his enemy's waistband. "Aw'll +lay t' hair abun tha' heaart, tha' wrigglin' worm, and driv it +ho[=a]m--that aw wull." + +In pursuance of which plan, he undid an embroidered satin waistcoat, +and began to push aside an inner muslin vest. A whiff of musk and +roses mingled with the moonlight. + +"Stinks and bites like a foumart," he muttered. "Soa lie thee still, +will tha? an' tak' that to thissen ma--gor amoighty!" + +Joe Banks was on his feet; so was his enemy. Both dazed, uncertain. +Flight seemed to come uppermost to the latter's thought, when the big +man suddenly laughed a low chuckle of sheer amusement. + +"An' t' coom like a wild cat at Joey Banks--that caps owt!" + +The next instant he was grappling with a whirlwind of knives and +nails, anything. + +"Woa! woa! ma lass! Hands off, tha little vixen, till a' git a look at +tha!" he said soothingly, as he prisoned two small hands in one huge +fist, and with the other held his adversary almost tenderly at arm's +length. What he saw, as he afterwards described it to Craddock, was +just a "moit o' pistols an' pouches." + +"Well! well! _Aw'm,--aw'm_ jiggered!" he exclaimed at last; adding +argumentatively, "Whatten iver mad tha' go fur t' do it, tha foolish +lass?" + +Something in his broad, not unkindly rebuke seemed to take the starch +out of the Most Nailin' Bad Shot. It seemed to cower in on itself and +become smaller; though, as Joe Banks told himself perplexedly, it had +been small enough to begin with. + +"Well, aw _am_ jiggered," he repeated more softly. "Whatten iver mad +tha' do it, ma lass?" + +The answer was feminine and disconcerting; a sudden storm of tears. So +they stood, the quaintest couple in the world. She bristling with cold +steel of sorts; he bareheaded in the moonlight, with nothing but his +hands for weapons. + +"Dunnot," he said soothingly, not without a certain trepidation. "Aw'm +no[=a]n go[=a]n t' hurt thee, ma gell. We'm not thaat soort t' +womenkind; an' tha's a main pratty gell." Here he laughed softly; a +laugh that was lost in a third-- + +"Wall, aw'm _jiggered_." + +He appeared to be so, for he ceased thrusting her from him--she being, +indeed, too much engaged with tears to make it dangerous--and passed +his hand over his forehead as if to clear his brain. + +"Aw'm no[=a]n go[=a]n t' hurt tha, ma lass," he repeated suddenly, as +if for his own information. "Aw'm nobbut go[=a]n t' shame tha' fur +tha' badness." + +And with that he lifted her right up like a baby, sate down on a +neighbouring rock, and set her on his knee. + +"Thou'rt as light as a feather," he said almost admiringly. "An' t' +coom at Jooey Banks like a wild cat; for sure it caps owt; but thou'rt +a bad gell, an' mun be shamed. So set tha still an' be doon wi' it." + +Once more he might have claimed comprehension, for the Most Nailin' +Bad Shot sate still; with the half-wicked, half-frightened look of a +curious squirrel, as one by one he transferred knives and pistols to +his own person. It was rather a lengthy business by reason of his +right hand--the one that had been bitten--being still occupied in +prisoning hers. Not that she struggled; on the contrary, she sate +curiously still, checking even her sobs. + +"Now for t' hair," he went on methodically, pulling off the large +green turban wound around the small head. He sate half perturbed and +breathless after this was done, and the half-wicked, half-frightened +dark eyes watching him, seemed to admit a faint smile. + +"Whew-w-w," he said under his breath, "it's long, for sartin sure." It +was, and a faint scent of orange-blossom assailed him as he loosed the +plaits. His hand trembled among them a little, and lingered. + +"Aw mun be as good's ma word," he muttered, "as Joey Banks' word. See +tha here--sit tha still, there's a good lass, an' let me hurry up; +wilt thee?" There was almost an appeal in his voice, and both hands +shook a little as the long black tresses twined themselves about the +big fingers like snakes. + +"Aw'm no[=a]n go[=a]n t' hurt," he reiterated blandly; when, perhaps +fortunately, the whole bewildering face before him relapsed into a +mischievous smile, and one small finger pointed derisively to the +crown of his head. He flushed up scarlet. + +"Thee'm nobbut a wicked, bad gell," he said fiercely, "an' Joey +Banks'll shame tha--a bold hussy." So he set her on her feet, and +attacked her last bit of masculinity. This was a long, green waistband +wound about her middle, and which had carried a score or so of +pistols, yataghans, and Heaven knows what murderous weapons. Of this +portion of the toilette Craddock said it was hard to get Joey Banks to +speak at all, and when he did, his voice dropped to a whisper, and he +looked positively scared. She was so main slender, he said, that he +thought he would never have done unwinding, though after a bit she +helped cheerfully by twiddling like a teetotum. At last, however, she +stood there, slim, girlish, her long hair shimmering, her dark eyes +shining, half with tears, half with smiles. + +"'An' then, Joey?' I arst 'im, sir, when 'e sate mumchance," Craddock +interpolated. + +"Aw out wi' 'Fower angels rouand ma bed,' man, an' a' up wi' her in ma +arms, an' a' kissed her fair an' oft, man, fair an' oft, just t' shame +her, an' a' runned awaay. That's what a' did--aw runned awaay." + +Half-way across the ravine, however, he paused to pick up his musket +and look back. The Most Nailin' Bad Shot in creation was standing +where he had left her, her face hidden in her hands. For an instant +something tore at his heart, bidding him go back; then he set his +teeth with an oath, and ran on. Five minutes afterwards he had slipped +into a favourite cranny of rock beside Craddock and was puffing away +at his pipe as if nothing had happened, absolutely silent, till, +according to the latter's report, he "give a silly sort of laugh," and +in the moonlight his eyes could be seen shining like stars as he +turned and said softly-- + +"Well, lad--a' ha' dune it this toime." + +"Done what, Apollyon?" asked Craddock. + +"A' dunnot roightly kna', but a' ha' dune it, for sartin sure," +replied Joe Banks, succinctly; and then he told the story. + +"One of them _gazes_[1] as they call 'em," interrupted Craddock, when +the big man told of his discovery in a sort of hushed voice. "They +makes 'em male an' female--the latter most wicious. Bad lots out o' +the bazaar, needin' a passport to the skies--or the devil." + + +--------------------- + +[Footnote 1: _Ghâzie_--religious fanatic.] + +--------------------- + + +Joey Banks' big fist came down like a sledgehammer on Craddock's knee. + +"Hush, mon!" he said peremptorily. "She woan't none that sort. When a' +kissed her--" he stopped short, and blushed furiously. + +"Apollyon!" remarked Craddock, after a pause, with great severity. "It +ain't wholesome to keep sech things comfortable in yer own buzzum. +It's better to 'ave up an' done with it an' begin agin. When you kiss +her--w'ot then?" + +But Joe Banks' shining eyes were looking out into the soft darkness, +soft and dark for all their shininess. "A' meant to 'a' keppen +coont--but a' didn't somehow." His voice was quite dreamy, and +Craddock rose in wrath. + +"It's my belief, same as I was in the catechising, Joey Banks, +that you bin an' fallen in love with a female _gaze_; but mark my +word--there ain't no gratitoode to speak of in _gazes_, and she'll +nick you yet, sure as my name's Nathaniel James. She'll nick you yet, +I du assure you." + +But Craddock was wrong. Whatever else she did, the Most Nailin' Bad +Shot shot no more. Not that it mattered much to Joey Banks whether she +did or not, since but a few days after there was a "casoolty" in +Number One outpost, Volunteer Joseph Banks, sometime canal overseer, +was reported missing after a sortie; but as he had been last seen +mortally wounded close to the city wall, his comrades mourned Apollyon +from the first as dead. So as Craddock said feelingly, "there weren't +even a lock o' 'is 'air for 'is old mother, an' she was a widder." + +Not that there was much time for mourning in the outpost, since the +long months of the siege were drawing to a close. Then came the final +assault, the ten days of struggle within the city, until even the +Palace was ours, and the army which had taken it prepared to move on +elsewhere. It was the evening before the start, and Craddock, who, as +a volunteer, had more liberty to go and come as he chose, went down to +the now deserted outpost to smoke a last pipe, and think over the past +with the pleasing melancholy which goes so admirably with tobacco. + +"Poor Joey Banks!" he thought, as memory came round to that episode, +"'im an' 'is female _gaze_. I shan't never forget 'em." + +I will tell the rest in Craddock's own words; they suit it. + +"I look up, sir, an' you might 'ave knock me over with a ninepin, for +there was Joey, lookin' as spry as spry. 'Joey,' says I, takin' it as +one does, sir, for all them sayin's of ninepins and feathers and such +like, quite calm, 'so you're not dead?' + +"'Na! lad,' he says back, as calm like. 'Aw'm go[=a]n t' be married, +an' a've coom t' get t' best man.' + +"It took me all of a 'eap, sir, sorter Malachi an' the minor prophets, +sir, as things does sometimes. 'Joey, my boy,' I says, 'you ain't +never goin' to marry a female _gaze?_' says I. + +"But 'e was, sir. Ter cut a long story short, she'd found 'im an' +nursed him. An' we all knows wot that means, white or black, sir. 'E'd +a 'eap to tell--though Lord knows where 'e got it, for 'e didn't know +no 'Industani to speak of, sir--about 'ow she lived in quite a fine +'ouse an' 'ow her father an' brothers 'ad bin killed, so as she kinder +'adn't no choice but _gazing_. But I wasn't to be took with chaff, so +I says to 'im quite solemn like, 'Afore I'm best man, I've got to +know, Joey--is she square?' 'E just looked at me, sir, as if I were +slush. + +"'She'd gotten ma hair in t' buzzum,' he said, an' said no moor. + +"So I gave my word to be best man, sir, an' 'e sighed like as a weight +was took off him. 'Then coom awa' wi' me t' passon,' says 'e, 'fur I'm +go[=a]n t' be marrid afoor aw goes with t' army to-morer.' + +"'Then you've 'ad the banns cried,' says I, for my father bein' +bell-ringer same as give me my name in 'oly baptism, sir, I was up to +them dodges. 'E give me a real Apollyon frown, sir. + +"'Na, lad; aw've no[=a]n had nought cried, but aw'm go[=a]n t' wed her +fair afoor a' fight, so save t' breath an' coom t' passon.' + +"Well, sir, parson wasn't a bad chap, as I knowed, 'aving seen 'im +doing dooty stiddily like the rest o' us, but 'e'd got 'is black coat +on agin, an' 'e were by nature, the canonised red bricky sort; so 'e +wouldn't none o' it, though I stood solemn for Joe like as if I bin +godfather, tellin' 'im 'ow Joe would 'ave bin a deader but for 'er, +an' 'ow she was willin' to become a Christian in 'oly baptism wen she +'ad a chanst, an' 'ow Joe wouldn't never 'ave bin in a 'urry without +bridesmaids but for bein' that eager to fight 'is country's foes +agin--for of course, sir, 'e 'adn't 'ad a look in at anythin' but +beef-tea an' barley water till we took the city. + +"'Why doesn't he wait decently till he comes back?' says parson. 'The +sacrament of marriage is not a responsibility to be entered into +unawares, my good--' + +"Joe rose up--Lord bless you!--two 'eads taller nor parson. 'Coom +awa'! best man,' 'e says. 'It's waaste toime heere, an' aw'll need tha +at t' mosque; passon theer ar'n't so scrumfumptious, an' she towt ma +t' Kulma this marnin' foor fear'--that's their creed, sir, same as the +_Gazes_, male an' female, yell when they're a stickin' of you. + +"Well parson 'e brought up sharp at this an' said, 'Stay a bit.' Then +'e look at Joe, an' Joe look at 'im. + +"'Tha see she's gotten t' be ma wife, man,' said Joe apologetic like, +an' parson 'e push 'is red bricky prayer-book away fretful. + +"'But I don't know anything,' he said. 'I don't even know if she is a +spinster or a widow. Will you swear she hasn't a husband living?' + +"Well, sir, Joe looked at parson, and then 'e looked at me, an' then +'e scratch 'is 'ead--the curls 'ad grown tight as ever, sir--an' then +sudden 'e smile--one o' them smiles like the sun on a daisy, sir. + +"' Aw dunnot rightly knaw,' says 'e, 'aw nivver arst her,' an' parson +'e look at me an' at 'im and at the solemnisation o' 'oly matrimony as +'f 'e didn't know which was which. + +"Well, the end o' it was that the three o' us went down to one o' them +light an' shady open-air houses with a tree growin' out o' a wall, and +a lot o' pigeons. Parson 'e stood in one o' the arches raise up a step +or two, an' they stood in the space below, right in the sun, an' I +stood 'twixt an' between, for you see, sir, I was clerk as well as +best man. + +"'Will you take this woman to be thy wedded wife?' arst parson. + +"'Such is my desire,' says I, in order; but Joe Banks wouldn't none o' +that. + +"'Fur better fur worse,' 'e says, 'fur richer fur poorer, domed if a' +doan't.' + +"So 'e was wedded to the Most Nailin' Bad Shot in creation." + +"And was she pretty?" I asked of Craddock. + +He shook his head. "I niver set eyes on her, sir, though I was best +man. She was wrap up in a white veil, an' 'e kep' her so--said she +liked it--they does, sir, when they've got a good 'usband." + +"So they lived happy ever after?" + +"Not for long, sir--" here Craddock slipped his hands into his pockets +as the first step towards slouching off. "That sort o' thing don't +somehow last long, sir," here his eyes caught the gold of the setting +sun, as they had a trick of doing when they grew soft. "Seems to +me--savin' your presence, sir--as if there was too much o' the Noo +Jerewsalem about that sort o' thing fur this world; that's 'ow it is. +She died, sir, a few years after, when 'e was back in the Canals, in a +God-forsaken spot, where there wasn't no one to--to be best man like. +An' so they found 'im lying beside 'er with a bullet in 'is brain. So +I was a minor prophet after all, an' Joey Banks got nicked at last by +the Most Nailin' Bad Shot in creation." + + + + + THE REFORMER'S WIFE + + A SKETCH FROM LIFE + + +He was a dreamer of dreams, with the look in his large dark eyes, +which Botticelli put into the eyes of his Moses; that Moses in doublet +and hose, whose figure, isolated from its surroundings, reminds one +irresistibly of Christopher Columbus, or Vasco da Gama--of those, in +fact, who dream of a Promised Land. + +And this man dreamt as wild a dream as any. He hoped, before he died, +to change the social customs of India. + +He used to sit in my drawing-room, talking to me by the hour of the +Prophet and his blessed Fâtma--for he was a Mahomedan--and bewailing +the sad degeneracy of these present days, when caste had crept into +and defiled the Faith. I shall never forget the face of martyred +enthusiasm with which he received my first invitation to dinner. He +accepted it, as he would have accepted the stake, with fervour, and +indeed to his ignorance the ordeal was supreme. However, he appeared +punctual to the moment on the appointed day, and greatly relieved my +mind by partaking twice of plum-pudding, which he declared to be a +surpassingly cool and most digestible form of nourishment, calculated +to soothe both body and mind. Though this is hardly the character +usually assigned to it, I did not contradict him, for not even his +eager self-sacrifice had sufficed for the soup, the fish, or the +joint, and he might otherwise have left the table in a starving +condition. As it was, he firmly set aside my invitation to drink water +after the meal was over, with the modest remark that he had not eaten +enough to warrant the indulgence. + +The event caused quite a stir in that far-away little town, set out +among the ruins of a great city, on the high bank of one of the Punjab +rivers; for the scene of this sketch lay out of the beaten track, +beyond the reach of _babus_ and barristers, patent-leather shoes and +progress. Beyond the pale of civilisation altogether, among a quaint +little colony of fighting Pathans who still pointed with pride to an +old gate or two which had withstood siege after siege, in those old +fighting days when the river had flowed beneath the walls of the city. +Since then the water had ebbed seven miles to the south-east, taking +with it the prestige of the stronghold, which only remained a +picturesque survival; a cluster of four-storeyed purple-brick houses +surrounded by an intermittent purple-brick wall, bastioned and +loop-holed. A formidable defence, while it lasted. But it had a trick +of dissolving meekly into a sort of mud hedge, in order to gain the +next stately fragment, or maybe to effect an alliance with one of the +frowning gateways which had defied assault. This condition of things +was a source of sincere delight to my Reformer Futteh Deen (Victory of +Faith) who revelled in similes. It was typical of the irrational, +illogical position of the inhabitants in regard to a thousand +religious and social questions, and just as one brave man could break +through these sham fortifications, so one resolute example would +suffice to capture the citadel of prejudice, and plant the banner of +abstract Truth on its topmost pinnacle. + +For he dreamt excellently well, and as he sate declaiming his Persian +and Arabic periods in the drawing-room with his eyes half shut, like +one in presence of some dazzling light, I used to feel as if something +might indeed be done to make the Mill of God grind a little faster. + +In the matter of dining out, indeed, it seemed as if he was right. For +within a week of his desperate plunge, I received an invitation to +break bread with the municipal committee in the upper storey of the +Vice-President's house. The request, which was emblazoned in gold, +engrossed on silk paper in red and black, and enclosed in a brocade +envelope, was signed by the eleven members and the Reformer; who, by +the way, edited a ridiculous little magazine to which the committee +subscribed a few rupees a month. Solely for the purpose of being able +to send copies to their friends at court, and show that they were in +the van of progress. For a man must be that, who is patron of a +"Society for the General Good of All Men in All Countries." I was, I +confess it, surprised, even though a casual remark that now perhaps +his Honour the Lieutenant-Governor would no longer suspect his slaves +of disloyalty, showed me that philanthropy had begun at home. For the +little colony bore a doubtful character, being largely leavened by the +new Puritanism, which Government, for reasons best known to itself, +chooses to confound with Wahabeeism. + +The entertainment given on the roof amid starshine and +catherine-wheels proved a magnificent success, its great feature being +an enormous plum-pudding which I was gravely told had been prepared by +my own cook. At what cost, I shudder to think; but the rascal's +grinning face as he placed it on the table convinced me that he had +seized the opportunity for some almost inconceivable extortion. But +there was no regret in those twelve grave, bearded faces, as one by +one they tasted and approved. All this happened long before a +miserable, exotic imitation of an English vestry replaced the old +patrician committees, and these men were representatives of the +bluest blood in the neighbourhood, many of them descendants of those +who in past times had held high offices of state, and had transmitted +courtly manners to their children. So the epithets bestowed on the +plum-pudding were many-syllabled; but the consensus of opinion was +indubitably towards its coolness, its digestibility, and its evident +property of soothing the body and the mind. Again I did not deny it. +How could I, out on the roof under the eternal stars, with those +twelve foreign faces showing, for once, a common bond of union with +the Feringhee? I should have felt like Judas Iscariot if I had struck +the thirteenth chord of denial. + +The Reformer made a speech afterwards, I remember, in which, being +wonderfully well read, he alluded to love-feasts and sacraments, and a +coming millennium, when all nations of the world should meet at one +table, and--well! not exactly eat plum-pudding together, but something +very like it. Then we all shook hands, and a native musician played +something on the _siringhi_ which they informed me was "God Save the +Queen." It may have been. I only know that the Reformer's thin face +beamed with almost pitiful delight as he told me triumphantly that +this was only the beginning. + +He was right. From that time forth the plum-pudding feast became a +recognised function. Not a week passed without one. Generally--for my +gorge rose at the idea of my cook's extortion--in the summer-house in +my garden, where I could have an excuse for providing the delicacy at +my own expense. And I am bound to say that this increased intimacy +bore other fruits than that contained in the pudding. For the matter +of that it has continued to bear fruit, since I can truthfully date +the beginning of my friendship for the people of India from the days +when we ate plum-pudding together under the starshine. + +The Reformer was radiant. He formed himself and his eleven into +committees and subcommittees for every philanthropical object under +the sun, and many an afternoon have I spent under the trees with my +work watching one deputation after another retire behind the oleander +hedge in order to permutate itself by deft rearrangement of members, +secretaries, and vice-presidents into some fresh body bent on the +regeneration of mankind. For life was leisureful, lingering and +lagging along in the little town where there was neither doctor nor +parson, policeman nor canal officer, nor in fact any white face save +my own and my husband's. Still we went far and fast in a cheerful, +unreal sort of way. We started schools and debating societies, public +libraries and technical art classes. Finally we met enthusiastically +over an extra-sized plum-pudding, and bound ourselves over to reduce +the marriage expenditure of our daughters. + +The Reformer grew more radiant than ever, and began in the +drawing-room--where it appeared to me he hatched all his most daring +schemes--to talk big about infant marriage, enforced widowhood, and +the seclusion of women. The latter I considered to be the key to the +whole position, and therefore I felt surprised at the evident +reluctance with which he met my suggestion, that he should begin his +struggle by bringing his wife to visit me. He had but one, although +she was childless. This was partly, no doubt, in deference to his +advanced theories; but also, at least so I judged from his +conversation, because of his unbounded admiration for one who by his +description was a pearl among women. In fact this unseen partner had +from the first been held up to me as a refutation of all my strictures +on the degradation of seclusion. So, to tell truth, I was quite +anxious to see this paragon, and vexed at the constant ailments and +absences which prevented our becoming acquainted. The more so because +this shadow of hidden virtue fettered me in argument, for Futteh Deen +was an eager patriot, full of enthusiasms for India and the Indians. +Once the sham fortifications were scaled, he assured me that +Hindustan, and above all its women, would come to the front and put +the universe to shame. Yet, despite his successes, he looked haggard +and anxious; at the time I thought it was too much progress and +plum-pudding combined, but afterwards I came to the conclusion that +his conscience was ill at ease, even then. + +So the heat grew apace. The fly-catchers came to dart among the +_sirus_ flowers and skim round the massive dome of the old tomb in +which we lived. The melons began to ripen, first by ones and twos, +then in thousands--gold, and green, and russet. The corners of the +streets were piled with them, and every man, woman, and child carried +a crescent moon of melon at which they munched contentedly all day +long. Now, even with the future good of humanity in view, I could not +believe in the safety of a mixed diet of melon and plum-pudding, +especially when cholera was flying about. Therefore, on the next +committee-day I had a light and wholesome refection of sponge-cakes +and jelly prepared for the philanthropists. They partook of it +courteously, but sparingly. It was, they said, superexcellent, but of +too heating and stimulating a nature to be consumed in quantities. In +vain I assured them that it could be digested by the most delicate +stomach; that it was, in short, a recognised food for convalescents. +This only confirmed them in their view, for, according to the Yunâni +system, an invalid diet must be heating, strengthening, stimulating. +Somehow in the middle of their upside-down arguments I caught myself +looking pitifully at the Reformer, and wondering at his temerity in +tilting at the great mysterious mass of Eastern wisdom. + +And that day, in deference to my Western zeal, he was to tilt wildly +at the _zenâna_ system. + +His address fell flat, and for the first time I noticed a distinctly +personal flavour in the discussion. Hitherto we had resolved and +recorded gaily, as if we ourselves were disinterested spectators. +However, the Vice-President apologised for the general tone, with a +side slash at exciting causes in the jelly and sponge-cake, whereat +the other ten wagged their heads sagely, remarking that it was +marvellous, stupendous, to feel the blood running riot in their veins +after those few mouthfuls. Verily such food partook of magic. Only the +Reformer dissented, and ate a whole sponge-cake defiantly. + +Even so the final Resolution ran thus: "That this committee views with +alarm any attempt to force the natural growth of female freedom, which +it holds to be strictly a matter for the individual wishes of the +man." Indeed it was with difficulty that I, as secretary, avoided the +disgrace of having to record the spiteful rider, "And that if any +member wanted to unveil the ladies he could begin on his own wife." + +I was young then in knowledge of Eastern ways, and consequently +indignant. The Reformer, on the other hand, was strangely humble, +and tried afterwards to evade the major point by eating another +sponge-cake, and making a facetious remark about experiments and vile +bodies; for he was a mine of quotations, especially from the Bible, +which he used to wield to my great discomfiture. + +But on the point at issue I knew he could scarcely go against his own +convictions, so I pressed home his duty of taking the initiative. He +agreed, gently. By-and-by, perhaps, when his wife was more fit for the +ordeal. And it was natural, even the _mem-sahiba_ must allow, for +unaccustomed modesty to shrink. She was to the full as devoted as he +to the good cause, but at the same time--Finally, the _mem-sahiba_ +must remember that women were women all over the world--even though +occasionally one was to be found like the _mem-sahiba_ capable of +acting as secretary to innumerable committees without a blush. There +was something so wistful in his eager blending of flattery and excuse +that I yielded for the time, though determined in the end to carry my +point. + +With this purpose I reverted to plum-puddings once more, and, I fear, +to gross bribery of all kinds in the shape of private interviews and +soft words. Finally I succeeded in getting half the members to consent +to sending their wives to an after-dark at-home in my drawing-room, +provided always that Mir Futteh Deen, the Reformer, would set a good +example. + +He looked troubled when I told him, and pointed out that the +responsibility for success or failure now lay virtually with him, yet +he did not deny it. + +I took elaborate precautions to ensure the most modest seclusion on +the appointed evening, even to sending my husband up a ladder to the +gallery at the very top of the dome to smoke his after-dinner cigar. I +remember thinking how odd it must have looked to him perched up there +to see the twinkling lights of the distant city over the soft shadows +of the _ferash_ trees, and at his feet the glimmer of the white +screens set up to form a conventional _zenân-khâna_. But I waited in +vain--in my best dress, by the way. No one came, though my ayah +assured me that several jealously-guarded _dhoolies_ arrived at the +garden-gate and went away again when Mrs. Futteh Deen never turned up. + +I was virtuously indignant with the offender, and the next time he +came to see me sent out a message that I was otherwise engaged. I felt +a little remorseful at having done so, however, when, committee-day +coming round, the Reformer was reported on the sick-list. And there he +remained until after the first rain had fallen, bringing with it the +real Indian spring--the spring full of roses and jasmines, of which +the poets and the bul-buls sing. By this time the novelty had worn off +philanthropy and plum-pudding, so that often we had a difficulty in +getting a quorum together to resolve anything; and I, personally, had +begun to weary for the dazzled eyes and the eager voice so full of +sanguine hope. + +Therefore it gave me a pang to learn from the Vice-President, who, +being a Government official, was a model of punctuality, that in all +probability I should never hear or see either one or the other again. +Futteh Deen was dying of the rapid decline which comes so often to the +Indian student. + +A recurrence of a vague remorse made me put my pride in my pocket and +go unasked to the Reformer's house, but my decision came too late. He +had died the morning of my visit, and I think I was glad of it. + +For the paragon of beauty and virtue, of education and refinement, was +a very ordinary woman, years older than my poor Reformer, marked with +the small-pox, and blind of one eye. Then I understood. + + + + + THE SQUARING OF THE GODS + + +It was the night before the great Eclipse. A vast, vague expectancy +brooded over the length and breadth of India. Of prophesying there had +been no lack, for signs and wonders had been as blackberries in +September. + +So, far and near, east, west, south, and north, the people of +Hindustan--many-hued, many-raced, many-faithed--were watching for they +knew not what, watching with grave, silent, yet curious composure. + +But there was no outward sign of this inward expectation on either +side. The millions of dark faces behind which it lay were as +inscrutable as the telegraph wires through which the mere fraction of +white faces responsible for the safety of those millions of dark ones +were flashing silent messages of warning and preparation. + +And here, in the Sacred City, beside the Sacred River, in which +multitudes of those millions hoped to bathe on the morrow during the +fateful moments of the sun's eclipse, the dim curves of the world had +never been outlined against a calmer, more restful sky--a sky almost +black in its intensity of shadow. Yet the night was clear, full of a +starlight that could be seen, which showed the bend of the broad +river, angled on one side by the straight lines of its curved sequence +of bathing-steps that swept away to the horizon on either side. + +The steps themselves, shadowy, vague, were spangled as with stars by +the little trembling lamps of the myriads on myriads of pilgrims +already gathered on them waiting for the dawn. The reflection of these +lamps lay in the water beside the reflection of the stars, making it +hard to tell where heaven ended, where earth begun. + +Behind this long length of bathing-steps--irregular in height, in +slope, in everything save an inevitable crowning by the tall temple +spires--lay Benares. Benares, the only city in the world--since the +reputation of Rome lives by works as well as faith--whose every stone +tells of that search after righteousness which lies so close to the +heart of humanity. Benares, with its sunless alleys, full of the +perfume of dead flowers and spent incense--alleys which thread their +way past shrine after shrine, holy place after holy place; mere niches +in a worn stone, perhaps, or less even than that; only the bare +imprint of a bloody hand on the tall, blank walls of the crowded +tenement houses which seem to narrow God's sky as they rise up toward +it. Benares, where the alien master steps into the gutter to let a +swinging corpse pass on its way to the Sacred River, but where the +priest behind it--his dark forehead barred with white, or smeared with +a bold patch of ochre--steps into the opposite gutter, and clings to +the shrine-set wall like a limpet, lest he be defiled by a touch, a +shadow. Benares, which is, briefly, the strangest, saddest city on +God's earth. + +It lay this night, far as the eye could reach along the outward curve +of the Ganges, dreamful exceedingly, dimly paler than the sky. But on +the other side of the river, where the land bulged into the stream, +lay a scene as, dreamful; yet dreamful in a different way; for here, +almost from the water's edge, the young green wheat stretched away +into that level plain of India, the most densely populated +agricultural country in the world, where myriads and myriads of men +live content as the cattle with which they till the soil. + +So a whole world lies between these two banks of the Ganges; between +the men of whom pilgrims are made, and the pilgrims made of those men. +And spanning them, joining them, aggressively, unsympathetically, is +the railway bridge built by the alien "Bridge-builders." + +Seen in the starlight, with its lattice of dark girders showing +against the sky, its white piers blocking the water-slide at +intervals, this bridge looked quaintly like a fell and monstrous hairy +caterpillar out for a night-walking, one of those caterpillars with +turreted excrescences at its former and its latter end. The hinder one +here was clearly outlined against a distant block of greater darkness. +This was a dense grove of mango trees; and through its far-off shadow +shone twinkling coloured lights, while from it came fitfully, at the +wind's caprice, a faint sound of drumming, a twangling of _sitaras_; +for, in the shelter of the grove, some of the white faces who were +responsible for the dark ones were in camp--in a pleasure-camp full of +guests come to see the show, and whither the telegrams of warning +flashed and whence the answers flashed back, even while the _nautch_, +bidden to amuse those guests, went on and on in twanglings, drummings, +screechings, posturings. + +Such details, however, were hidden even from the nearest point of the +angled curve of bathing-steps which swept right away to the starlit +horizon on the opposite side of the river. The only movement visible +thence by the waiting crowd, as it looked across the river, was a +curious dazzling flicker, as if the bridge were shivering, which was +caused by the continuous stream on its outer footway of arriving +pilgrims, showing now against the dark girders, now against the paler +sky. + +"Mai Gunga hath her hands full!" murmured one of the group squatting +immovable on these nearest steps; "they come, and come." + +A face or two, patient, dark, turned to the bridge, and another voice +came, calm, passive. + +"Ay! 'tis easier for folk to find salvation with 'rails' and bridges +than, as of old, with blistered feet and boats." A dark hand nearest +the water's lip, as it lapped a lazy, silvery whisper on the worn +stone steps, slid into the sacred flood with a sort of tentative +caress. + +"Yet they said _She_ would revenge Herself for the rending of Her +bosom, for the burden of bricks laid on Her; but She hath not. She +gives and takes as ever." + +The long, dark fingers gathered some of the fallen petals which the +river was returning to those who had cast their flower-offering on its +surface, and the dark eyes watched a white-swathed corpse that was +drifting down stream, a faint streak in the slumbering shadow. + +"True!" came another passive voice; "but the time is not past. There +is to-morrow yet." + +The absolutely unrepresentable _chuck!_ made by the tongue against the +roof of the mouth, which is the most emphatic denial of India, echoed +suddenly, aggressively, into the peaceful air. + +It came from the blackness of a low masonry abutment which, traversing +the last three steps, projected a few feet into the river, like a +pier. A yard maybe above the water, some three long, and perhaps a +couple broad, there was just room on its outer end for a small square +temple with a rude spiked spire--the plainest of temples, guiltless of +ornament, looking out over the Ganges blankly. For its only aperture, +a low arched doorway, faced the steps and showed now as a blot of +utter darkness. + +"Not She, brethren!" said a cracked voice following on the denial. +"She or Her like will never harm the _Huzoors!_ They have paid their +toll, see you, they have squared the gods." + +A dozen or more faces turned to the voice, the figures belonging to +them remaining immovable, as if carved in stone. + +"Dost think so really, Baha-_jee?_" came a question. "I have heard +that tale before--and that 'tis done in the 'Magic-houses.'"[2] + + +--------------------- + +[Footnote 2: The natives call Freemasonry Lodges by this name.] + +--------------------- + + +The emphatic denial rose again. "Not so! These eyes saw it done--here, +in this very place, forty years ago! here, at Mai Kâli's shrine!" + +In the pause that followed, a pair of claw-like hands could be seen +above the bar of shadow, wavering salaams to the little temple, in the +perfunctory manner of priesthood all over the world. + +"'Tis old Bishen, the flower-seller," said a yawning voice. "He was +here in the Time of Trouble,[3] and he tells tales of it--when he +remembers!" + + +--------------------- + +[Footnote 3: The Mutiny.] + +--------------------- + + +"Then let him tell," yawned another, "since the night is long and the +dawn lingers. How was't done, Baha-_jee?_" + +There was a pause. + +"Many ways, doubtless. Here and there different ways. But here, one +way. Forty years ago, brothers! Yea, forty years ago, these eyes saw +the 'squaring of the gods.' In this wise ..." + +There was another dreamful pause, and then, from the shadow, came the +old thin voice once more. + +"Yonder, where the bridge stands now, was Broon-_sahib's_ house--" + +"Broon-_sahib?_" echoed a curious listener. "Dost mean Broon-_sahib_ +who built the bridge?" + +"Who built the bridge?" hesitated the tale-teller. "God knows! More +like his son; for the years pass--they pass, Mai Gunga! and I grow +old. Grant me this last cleansing, Mother! Wash me from sin ere I go +hence ..." + +"Lo! thou hast made him forget the rest," reproved another listener, +"as if there were not Broon-_sahibs_ ever! Even now, here in Benares! +Yes! Baba-_jee_, of a certainty, Broon-_sahib's_ house stood here, +where the bridge stands now." + +The old memory, started afresh, went on. + +"It was a boy, the child. A toddler, but with the temper of tigers. +Lo! it would scream and yell in the _ayah's_ arms, and beat her face +to be let crawl down the steps to pull the spent bosses of the +marigolds out of the water and fling them back like balls. A mite of a +boy; white as jasmine in the face, yellow as the marigolds themselves +in hair. The _mem_, its mother, had the like face and hair. I used to +see her in the verandah over the river, and driving above the steps. +There were many _sahibs_ came and went to the house, after their +fashion, and she smiled and spoke to them all. There was one of +them--so young, he might have been a son almost--who came often; and +she smiled on him, too, as he played, like a boy, with the child. He +was one of the _sahibs_ who have eyes; so, after a time, he would nod +to me and say '_Râm! Râm!_' with a laugh as he passed above me, +sitting here in the shadow, selling my garlands. + +"So, one day, as he came by, there was the baby screaming in its +_ayah's_ arms to be let crawl to the water, and she was denying it by +the _mem's_ orders. What the young _sahib_ said at first I know not; +but after a bit he came running down the steps, the child in his arms, +calling back to the woman, in her tongue, 'Trouble not, _ayah!_ I'll +square it, never fear!' + +"And there he was beside me, the two white faces, the yellow +heads--for he was but a boy himself, slim, white, yellow-haired--close +together, brother-like, buying a garland of the biggest marigolds I +had. So down at the water's edge, he teaching the child how to throw +them in like a thrower. + +"'No underhand work, brotherling,' he said in our tongue, for the +baby, after the fashion of the _baba-logue_, knew none other. 'So! +straight from the shoulder. Bravo! Thou wilt play crickets, by-and-by, +like a man.' + +"After that once of chance, it came often of set purpose. He would +come down from the house with the child, and I had to keep the biggest +marigolds for the game, since, see you, they held the bits of brick +better with which he weighted them. + +"Thus it went on till one day all the _sahibs_ and _mems_ were at the +house yonder, for God knows what amusement! and in the cool they +strolled down here--the _mems_ dressed so gay, the _sahibs_ all black +and smoking--to see how well the toddler, who could scarce speak, had +learnt to throw. At least, so it seemed, for they watched and laughed; +but after a time they took to throwing the flowers themselves, +laughing more and jesting, until not a marigold was left. Then they +began on Shivjee's _dhatura_ blossoms, filling their white horns with +pebbles, and hurling them far, far into the stream. + +"So, when paying time came, the young _sahib_--he had the child by the +hand--flung rupees into my empty basket, and said, 'Lo! Bishen'--for +he was one of those who remember names--'those who seek to curry +favour with the gods will have no chance to-day. We are beforehand. We +have squared them.' + +"At this the _mem_, standing close by, frowned and spoke some reproof; +maybe because she was of those who drive to church often. But the boy +only laughed, and, catching the child up, cried, 'Lo! brotherling, +then are we sinners indeed; since we do it so often, you and I!' + +"And with that he raced up the steps with the child, calling '_Râm, +Râm!_' and '_Jai Kâli Ma!_' like any worshipper; so that the _mem_ and +the others strolling after could not but laugh. And some echoed the +cry as they went up the steps." + +The old voice paused in its even sing-song; and when it began again, +there was a new note in it which seemed to bring a sense of hurry and +stress even to that uttermost peace. + +"But they came down again. How long after matters not. I see them so +in my old eyes. Going up, laughing in the sunset, then returning. It +was starlight when they came down, the _mems_ and the _sahibs_ and the +_baba-logue_. Starlight as it was now, brethren, but not still, like +this. There were cries, and flames yonder, and folk running. + +"The boats lay here below the temple. And one--a Mahomedan--came with +them, promising safety. So they begun to get into the boats, and one +moved off, the crowd looking on. Then suddenly, God knows why! it +ceased looking on, and began to kill. They were half in, half out of +the boat; the _sahib-logue_ and some cried to stop, some to go on. But +the _mems_ made no noise; only you could see their faces white out of +the shadows. + +"And his, the young _sahib's_, was whiter than any, glittering, +it seemed, with a white fire. The _mem_ was in the boat, and +Broon-_sahib_ on the bottom step, the baby in his arms. But he, the +boy, was above him facing the crowd--making time. + +"Then, just as the mem stretched her hands for the child, a +bullet--they were firing from the top steps--hit Broon-_sahib_, and he +fell half in, half out of the water, pushing the boat out in his fall. +So it began to slide down stream. + +"Some in it would have stopped it, but the _mem_ gave a look at those +other _mems_, those other babies, and laid her hand on one that would +have gone back. + +"'No!' + +"That was the cry she gave--a great cry; but a greater one rang out +through the shadows and the lights, from the boy who had caught up the +child as it fell upon the steps. + +"I know not what it was, but it was great, and it echoed out as the +boat slipped fast to safety. And he held the child to his breast and +waved his sword, so that the _mem's_ white face rose from her hands, +where she had hidden it, and she looked back. That was the last thing +I saw out of the shadows as the boat slipped to safety; but it held +me, so that when I looked round, the boy was no longer on the steps. + +"He had leaped to the plinth of the temple, and his arms were empty of +his burden. Only he stood in front of the doorway with his glittering +white face--his glittering white face, his glittering white sword! + +"' Come on, you devils!' he shouted in our tongue. 'Come on! Mai Kâli +shall have blood to-night if she wants it.'" + +"And she had, brothers! + +"It ran from the plinth and trickled to the river; for none could +touch him from behind, and his sword was in front. + +"There was a method in its hackings and hewings. At least so it seemed +to me, watching helpless for good or evil, from my place in the +shadow. For ever, as its keenest stroke fell, so another body fell +blocking the plinth, until he had to stand almost in the arch itself. + +"Then a burly Mahomedan trooper challenged him, and I knew not which +way the fight was going, till, with a shout that was almost a laugh, +the white face and the white sword showed, lunging back at the big +body as they broke past. And it fell sidelong, blocking the doorway +quite. + +"But none thought of that, of it. None thought of anything save the +glittering face and the glittering sword that had burst through the +circling crowd, and now, facing it again, was backing up the steps, +fighting grimly as it backed. + +"Up and up, step by step, and we--even I, brothers, watching +helpless--drawn after it perforce, to see--to know ... + +"So the steps were left silent in the starlight. I did not see the +end, brothers. It was beyond my sight. They told me afterwards it was +in the bazaar, with half the town to see; but I had crept away, a +great shivering on me, for I had remembered the flowers and the young +_sahib's_ words about the gods. + +"And I remembered the child. What had become of the child? + +"Then suddenly I understood. Then I knew what the method of the sword +had been--how it had hidden, had lured! + +"It was nigh dawn when I remembered; dawn as it is now. Look! The iron +of night's scabbard grows into the steel of day's sword upon the +water; and hark! that is the cry of the mallards. The world is waking. +So it was when I crept down to Kâli's shrine. + +"The blood was still dripping into the water, and when I drew the dead +mass of flesh from blocking the doorway, the red of it lay in a pool +up to Her feet. But the child had crawled on Her knees, brothers, and +had cried itself to sleep there. + +"Yet when it wakened at my touch it did not cry, for, see you, it knew +me; and so, when it saw the milk, set in a bowl before Her as +offering, it stretched its hands for it. + +"Thus it was made clear. So I gave it Mai Kâli's milk, knowing it was +true what he had said, 'that they had squared the gods.'" + +The voice paused, and another asked, "And then?" before it went on +dreamily. + +"Yea! it was true indeed, for ere the day ended they were back with +guns and soldiers. So, since silence is better than speech when nought +is sure, I crept in the night to a Colonel's house and left the child +in the garden for them to find. + +"Forty years ago, brothers! Forty years is it since the boats slipped +down to safety with the _Huzoors_, and now ..." + +There was a sudden stir in the waiting crowd. + +A boat had slipped up the river shadows from the bridge and was making +for the steps. + +"That's your station, Brown," said an English voice; "the water is a +bit deep about the shrine, remember, and the old women are devilish +hard to keep back. All right!" it continued, as a man stepped out. "Go +on to the next. We are a bit early on the field; but it is as well to +be beforehand, and square things." + +As the boat paddled on, another English voice in the stern said in a +low tone, "Why did you put Brown there? Just where his father was +killed, don't you remember?" + +"Just why I did! He won't stand any nonsense, and it is a troublesome +job. Besides, he wasn't killed, and there's luck in it. That was a +queer story. Some one saved him, of course, but why? and how? Now, +Smith! there you are. And, as I said to Brown, for Heaven's sake look +after the old dodderers, male and female. When they've nothing left to +live for ..." + +The rest was lost as the boat went on to a yet farther station. + +So, as the sun rose, it rose on that great angled sweep, not of steps, +but of humanity; full, pressed down, running over into the spired town +behind--on a million and more of dark faces, and a dozen white ones +dotted here and there at the most dangerous points. + +And Broon-_sahib_, bearded, a bit burly with his forty and odd years, +sat on the plinth, and thought, no doubt, of that past at first, then +took out his pipe, and with it some scraps of smoked glass, since the +coming eclipse must not be lost, even though one _was_ on duty. + +The sun climbed up, brilliantly unconscious, or at least regardless, +of its coming fate. And after a time boats began to slide up and down, +and a big barge came punting up stream sedately. It was full of +English women and children; and under its wide awning a table was laid +with flowers and sparkling silver against the champagne breakfast +which was to follow on a successful performance of duty. + +For not even here could there be allowed hint or sign of that +expectancy of possible evil. A little girl holding her mother's hand +nodded her yellow curls delightedly, as the barge went past, to Dada +sitting swinging his legs just where the blood had dripped into the +stream forty years ago; but something in the woman's face made a call +echo over the water. + +"It's all right. Show going A 1!" + +As a show there could be no doubt of that. There was a breathlessness +in it, a mighty surge of emotion from one end of that bank of humanity +to the other, a curious wail in the ceaseless roar of voices, that +struck through eyes and ears to the heart. + +And now, what was that? + +Broad daylight still; not a shadow had shifted, and yet a sense as if +a candle had gone out somewhere. + +Broon-_sahib_ put his pipe in his pocket, looked through a glass +darkly, stood up, raised his helmet, wiped his forehead, and put it on +again. + +The time had come--there was a nibble of shadow on the ball of +light!--the monster had begun his meal! + +As he looked round, unarmed, defenceless, on the hundreds of thousands +of dark heads which held this thought, he smiled and nodded with the +words. + +"Have patience, brethren; there is time!" Doubtless, but not much time +to think of other things beyond the mere keeping of that forward crush +of bathers, that backward crush of those that had bathed, from +inextricable confusion. + +So much the better, perhaps. Less time, at any rate, for expectation +of the new King who was to fall from the sun and sweep away existing +kingdoms. Less time to notice the white horse led out ostentatiously +by the Brahmins at the biggest temple, sign that such talk was true, +that one æon had passed away, and another--in which Vishnu should +appear in his final incarnation--had begun. + +"Have patience! Have patience!" + +That was the burden of the cry from the few white faces dotted among +the dark ones, and it was caught up and echoed by the connecting links +of yellow-legged policemen stationed every ten yards along the lowest +step. + +"Have patience! Have patience!" + +A hard saying indeed. + +Broon-_sahib_ slipped down from the plinth and collared an old +pantaloon just as he fell, hefted him up like a baby, and set him +squatting in safety above. Then an old woman, gasping, gurgling from +the first mouthful of the water into which, regardless of depth, she +had literally been propelled. + +"Have patience, brethren! Have patience!" + +A harder saying, now that all things had grown grey; though +still--weird, uncanny, beyond belief--not a shadow had shifted. + +Hopelessly grey, and hopelessly cold--so cold. So curiously quiet, +too; for the great roar of voices seemed to have severed itself from +things earthly, and was like a mighty wind from heaven. + +"Have patience, brethren! Have patience! There is time!" + +A harder saying still, when in the greyness, the coldness, a flock of +scared pigeons overhead sent a weird flight of faint grey shadows down +that long length of angled curve, packed by expectant humanity. + +Was He coming indeed?--that new ruler? Were these the heralds? + +There was quite a little row, now, of rescued old dodderers on Mai +Kâli's plinth, whence the blood had dropped forty years ago. + +What was that? Had some one withdrawn a veil? Had some one said, "Let +there be light"? + +The greyness, the coldness, lost their character in an instant. There +was promise in them now--promise of light to come! The sun was +reasserting its sway, and--not half of humanity had bathed! + +"Have patience, brethren! Have patience!" shouted Broon-_sahib_, and +there was a certain fierce determination in his tone. + +Hardest saying of all, when the precious moments were going--going so +fast! + +"_Huzoor!_" came a piteous, confused voice behind him from the +plinth, "it is my last chance. I am old--I forget. I have forgotten so +much--only this remains. For pity's sake--for the sake of forty years +ago--let old Bishen, the flower-seller, find salvation!" + +Even in his hurry, in his breathless recognition that here +was the crucial instant--that a single mistake might bring +disaster--Broon-_sahib_ flung a quick look behind him. + +He saw a pathetic old face, humble even in its grief. + +"It's all right, _Baba_; there's plenty of time!" he said swiftly. +"Here! look through this bit of glass--you'll see for yourself." + +It only took a moment, those quick words; he was back, ready with hand +and voice of command, almost without a break; but they did more for +peace and order than a regiment of soldiers. For old Bishen, after one +look through the smoked glass, rose to his feet and salaamed again and +again, set, as he was, on high, in sight of all. + +"Yea! it is true," he cried, in his thin old voice. "There _is_ time. +Let us wait, brethren; for they know--the gods have told them." + +Half-an-hour afterwards, with its table laid with flowers and silver, +the sliding barge held Englishmen as well as Englishwomen; and one of +them was drinking deep draughts of iced beer, while a little girl with +yellow hair watched him admiringly, and a woman, still rather pale of +face, stood looking at him with evident relief. + +"I told you it would be all right, my dear," he said, smiling. "There +never was any rush to speak of but once; and then I gave a bit of +smoked glass to an old chap, and he saw through a glass darkly what +was up, and told the others. So we squared 'em--gods and Brahmins and +all-as I told you we should, in spite of all the talk and the +telegrams." + + + + + THE KEEPER OF THE PASS + + +The low hills, as they lay baking in the sunshine of noon, showed in +scallops of glare against the light-bleached sky. A fine dust, reddish +but for that same bleaching of light, hid every green thing far and +near, making them match the straggling camel-thorns, the stunted +wormwood, the tufts of chamomile, and many another nameless aromatic +herb which in these low hills come into the world ready dressed in +dust, as it were, against the long rainless months. + +Yet it was not hot here in the uplands, and so the district officer's +tent was opened at one side and propped up by bamboos more for the +convenience of its occupant holding an open-air audience than from any +quest after coolness. The upward tilt gave the tent a quaintly +lopsided look, as if it were some gigantic bird flapping one wing in +its attempt to rise and fly away from the little hollow in which it +stood. + +It was a motley crowd, indeed, which awaited the fiat of the Dispenser +of Justice in these fastnesses of the central hills of India; those +climbing, rolling upward sweeps of sandstone where the ripple mark of +the tides that built them remains to tell of the vanished sea which +had once covered this dry and thirsty land, where no water is for nine +long months of the year. + +It was a curious crowd also. It could not fail of being that, since it +struck the two extremes of that vast Indian scale of so-called +culture, so-called civilisation. For a land case involving several +miles of country was in dispute, and the semi-Europeanised, wholly +clothed lawyers engaged on it stood cheek by jowl with the +semi-clothed wholly aboriginal witnesses in it; representatives for +the most part of the wild tribes belonging to these waste lands and +forests. Rude iron-smelters, almost touching the bronze age in +absolute savagery; or wandering fowlers, barbaric even to the extent +of eating their poor, old, undesirable relations! + +In one group, however, consisting of an old man and a young one, a +quick observer might have noticed a palpable discrepancy between the +dress (or the lack of it) and the address of the wearers. A +discrepancy which made the magistrate of the district look up with a +smile. + +"Hullo! Nâgdeo!" he said. "On the warpath after a tiger?" The old man +salaamed down to the ground. His skin was very dark, so that his white +moustache and thin white whiskers, brushed out to stand, each hair +singly, in a forward curve, like the whiskers of a cat, seemed to +glisten against it. For the rest, he was small, slight, but extremely +muscular, and he carried himself with no little dignity and +importance. + +"Not so, _Huzoor_," he replied, and his speech rose higher in that +scale of culture and civilisation than his dress, which was no more +than a waistcloth, a string of tiger claws, and a tasselled spear--"I +come to put another foot on it. This is my grandson, _Huzoor_." + +The dignity, the importance grew fifty-fold as he turned to the lad by +his side. A good head taller, fairer of skin, infinitely better +looking, there was yet something about the figure which made the eye +turn back to the smaller, older one, as it stood before authority with +a certain authority of its own. + +He was, as all knew, explained Nâgdeo, the keeper of one of the +wildest passes in that wild country, as his father and his father's +father had been. Who could deny it? Was not their very caste name, to +distinguish them from others, _Ghâtwâl_, or pass-keeping ones? + +He had had to keep his a long time, because the Old God had decreed +that his son should be defeated by a tigress and her cubs; which might +happen to the best of pass-keeping ones, since those things feminine +were untrustworthy. Consequently he (Nâgdeo) had had to go on beyond +the years of greatest activity until his grandson reached them. + +But here the boy was now. Of age, twenty; than most, taller; as any, +learned in jungle law; with the spear, nimble; to keep the pass, +ready; to be enrolled, present, the Old God before-- + +With his subject the old man's words had returned to the idiom of a +wilder tongue, and he drew out of his waistcloth a little iron image +of a tiger, not three inches long, to which he salaamed reverently. + +For this was the Old God. + +"What is your grandson's name?" asked the district officer. + +It was Baghéla (tiger cub), said Nâgdeo. + +It had seemed a suitable name for one born six months after his father +had been found lying dead on the top of a dead tigress, his dead lips +close to the teats that would suckle her dead whelps no more. + +That had been a misfortune, deplorable yet without shame, and due, +possibly, to the dead youth's over-soon marriage to a thing feminine; +such things being notoriously untrustworthy! Therefore he had +refrained from entangling _this_ one with such things feminine, the +more so because there were already sufficient of them in the house, +what with Baghéla's mother and grandmother. Briefly, the worship of +two female things was sufficient for any lad without adding to the +adulation by a third! + +So, in the evening, when the magistrate's legal work was over, the old +man and the young one came up to the tilted tent again, and, after a +curious little oath of fealty to the Old God--in the shape of the +three-inch tiger--and a vow of war till death against live things that +mimicked his shape had been taken from his grandfather's dictation by +Baghéla, the latter's name was duly enrolled as hereditary guardian of +the Jâdusa Pass, and the two struck a bee-line towards home over the +low jungle as if it belonged to them. + +As indeed it did; since few travellers, save the keepers of the +passes, ventured to brave the tigers dreaming in their lairs, or +pacing the trackless wastes hungrily, after dark. + +But old Nâgdeo was jubilant over the mere chance of coming across one; +not that it was likely, since what tiger ever was whelped which would +dare to face him and his grandson? "Men"--here he gave a sidelong +glance of pure adoration at Baghéla's height--"who had no backs; who, +if they failed, as even pass-keepers must sometimes, were found face +up to the sky, face up to the claws, face up to the teeth!" + +Of course, sometimes, the accursed brutes who assumed the shape of the +Blessed Budhal Pen--the Old God of Gods--would, out of sheer spite, +roll a dead man over and claw at his back; but that also was without +shame, since dead men had no choice. + +So the old man babbled on garrulously, and the young one listened, +till they reached the little village at the foot of the pass. The moon +had risen by this time, and showed the upright slabs of sandstone +clustering under the wide-spreading tamarind trees on its outskirts. +Slabs marking the graves of dead and gone inhabitants. + +"I am ready now for the young girls to break their pitchers and cover +my emptiness with the shards," said the old man, pausing for a second +beside a cluster of these stones. Then he raised his hand and spoke to +the unseen: "Fear not, Slumberers! He who comes to join you hath no +scratch upon his back." + +That was his _Nunc Dimittis_. After which he made his way to a low +shingled stone hut, covered with gourds, which stood on some rising +ground outside the hamlet towards the pass; drank to excess--from pure +joy--of a nauseous spirit made by the untrustworthy feminine out of +wild berries, and then slept as sound as if he were indeed with the +Slumberers. + +For this question of the due keeping of the pass had been on the old +man's nerves for months. The rains would be due ere long, bringing, no +doubt, those twinges of lumbago to a grandfather's back which had of +late made it difficult, indeed, to keep the pass open for travellers; +since to do that a man must give the beasts no rest. He must harry +their lairs when they were absent, scare them from the road with +strange noises and ringing of bells, and, if they were obdurate, face +claws and teeth. + +But now there was some one to do all this. Some one of the true race, +yet by the fiat of the Old God bigger than most. Ay! and with more +personal enmity than most towards the evil ones who stole the Old +God's likeness. For must not those six unborn mouths of wrong, of +loss, of grief and anger, count for something? + +Yes! Baghéla would be a Keeper of the Pass, indeed! That was the old +man's thought as he fell asleep, his dream as he lay sound as the +Slumberers themselves. And Baghéla slept, too, the badge of his new +office, a necklace of tiger claws, round his neck, a tasselled spear, +hung with jingling bells, beside him. But the untrustworthy feminine, +the mother, the grandmother, still sate by the embers of the fire +whispering fearfully; for _they_ knew that those six unborn mouths, +translated in _their_ way, might mean something very different. + +Baghéla himself, however, had no suspicion of the possibility. He set +about his new duties with an immense amount of swagger. The least hint +of a marauding intruder about the winding path which led to the +fertile valleys towards the south, would send him through the village +with boastful jinglings of his bells. And, as luck would have it, that +jingling seemed all powerful for a time towards the keeping of the +pass. + +Nâgdeo, who, now that the necessity for presenting a youthful +appearance was over, permitted himself a seat amongst the village +elders, a certain stiffness of carriage generally, used to boast of +this peace dogmatically. Such a thing as no _news_, even, of +intruders, so far on in the season, was unheard of. He himself, in his +palmiest days, had never been so fear-compelling. It was those six +unborn mouths of hereditary hatred which did it, no doubt. + +And Baghéla thought so too, as long as the rain was slight, as long as +the flocks and herds kept to the uplands, and only the shepherds and +herdsmen had tales to tell of loss. Then, one day, the clouds broke in +slanting shafts of almost solid rain, and the water ran over the +rippled sandhills as if it had been a tide once more. Then the sun +shone for another day, and at dusk everything but a yard or two of +shadow round Baghéla as he patrolled the path was a blank nothingness, +blotting out even the darkness with wet, impenetrable vapour, dulling +even the sound of the bells, deadening all scent. + +So, neither he nor the tiger had an instant's warning. + +They were face to face in a moment. + +Then Baghéla knew what those unborn mouths had wrought in him. Terror, +absolute, uncontrollable, seized on all his young strength; he knew +nothing save the desire to escape. The next instant he felt a hot +vapour on his back, heard the husky angry cough that sent it there, +and all that young strength of his spent itself in a cry like that of +the untrustworthy thing feminine, when they had told it of a young +husband's death. + +Into the mist he fled, feeling the cold vapour in his face, the hot +behind; until, suddenly desperate, every atom of him leaped forward +from what lay behind, and he fell. + +None too soon; for even as he shot downward a shadow shot over him in +the mist, and something ripped his bare back lightly, as, with greater +impetus than his, that shadow plunged into the void. + +A second afterwards a long-drawn howl of rage and spite rose upward +through the mist to meet Baghéla's whimpers as he lay, caught above +the sheer precipice, by a bush. + +After a while he rose and crept carefully up to the verge; then sate +and shivered at himself; at this inheritance of fear. And more than +once his hand sought that faint scratch upon his back. It was not +much; not more than a kitten might have made in play, but he felt it +like a brand. + +By degrees, however, he began to think. The tiger must be lying dead, +or at least helpless, below the rocks. He must get down to it, leave +the marks of his spear in it; the mark of its claws ... + +A surge of shame swept through him. No! he must go back unscathed; no +one must have the chance, in dressing wounds, of seeing that faint +mark behind. + +So the next morning, old Nâgdeo could scarcely contain himself for +pride, as he sate among the village elders. The boy had killed his +first tiger without a scratch. Had brought home its skin, the biggest +seen for years. True, the lad himself had found the fight too hard, +and was even now shivering and shaking with ague; but that only proved +how hard the fight had been. And the untrustworthy feminine were +dosing him, so he would be afoot again in a day or two. Then the +village would see that, ere a month was over, a naked child might go +through the pass alone in safety. But it was not so! + +Baghéla, it is true, was well enough by day, but as the dusk came on, +his strong young limbs always fell a shivering and a shaking. "There +is more room for quaking, see you, in him than in me," old Nâgdeo +would explain elaborately to his cronies, as he held out an arm, which +with the inaction, the sudden cessation of imperious efforts, began to +show its age clearly; "but one must pay for size and strength, and +courage; and there is no harm done as yet. The mimicking devils had +their lesson when he killed their champion without a scratch." + +But the harm came in time. A party of salt-carriers, taking advantage +of a break in the rains, arrived at the village carrying an extra +load; the body of a man killed by a tiger, half eaten by jackals. + +"Ague or no ague, sonling," said old Nâgdeo almost coaxingly to the +lad half-an-hour after the appearance of this grim visitor, "thy bells +must be heard in the pass to-night. They will be all-sufficient, +considering the lesson thou hast taught the beasts. And thou art +strong enough for the ringing of bells. Thou canst return afterwards +to shiver and shake, sonling, since thou art not of those to do that +in the pass. No! no!" + +The old man's chuckle at his little joke was tenderly triumphant; but, +when he had gone, and the untrustworthy feminine alone remained, +Baghéla turned with a sob to his mother, who crouched beside him, and +hid his face in her clothes, as if he had been a hurt child. + +"Mother!" he cried, "I got it from thee!" + +"Yes! heart of my heart," she answered passionately, "and from thy +murdered father too. Have I not told thee so, often? As for this old +man! See you! Since _this_ has come upon us, and the shivering is no +longer refuge--go! There is no need to ring the bells--no need to go +farther than the little caves. And the old man fails fast. He will +not live long. Then, when he is dead, the old tale will be told, +and we can tell a new one, like other folk. Why, even now, see you, +there is no need for travellers to cross the pass. Let them take the +'rail' which the _Huzoors_ have made! All this old-world talk is +foolishness--yesterday's bread has been eaten, its water drunk; 'tis +time for a new dinner!" + +It was more than a month after this that some one, sitting on the +village daïs underneath the tamarind trees in sight of the Slumberers, +in trying to use a betel-cutter, said carelessly, "_It hath grown +rusty, like Baghéla's bells!_" + +Nâgdeo turned on the speaker like lightning. That month had left him +curiously aged, with a wistful, anxious expectancy on his old face. +Though when, more than once, folk had commented on his changed looks, +and asked what ailed him, he had only replied, almost apologetically, +"Death lingers; 'tis time I was with the Slumberers, since Baghéla +keeps the pass as his fathers did." + +But now his old voice rose haughtily, "Like thy wits rather! Canst not +see that the youth hath been overbrave? The mimicking devils will not +face the bells. And who can kill a foe that keeps his distance? And if +the bells ring not, is it not in hopes to lure the cowards close--to +take them unawares?" + +The arguments came swiftly, as if they had been rehearsed before; +rehearsed without audience; and yet when old Nâgdeo moved off as if in +displeasure, his hands crept out towards the stones which marked the +Slumberers, his eyes sought them almost pitifully. + +And that night, after Baghéla had gone on his rounds, after the +untrustworthy feminine had slothfully sought its bed, the old Keeper +of the Pass crept out in the rear of the young one, spear in hand; yet +without the jingles, since what need was there for two sets? + +Two! But where was the one? + +The old man's face grew more feline in its watchful anxiety, as he +prowled among the bushes in the half moonlit darkness, listening for +the challenge. And none came, though more than once in the denser +shadow of thick jungle, he saw two spots of green light telling that +some one was _waiting_ to be challenged. But where was the challenger? + +The night was far spent ere he was found, fast asleep on a bed of dry +leaves in the little cave. + +The sight seemed to take the finder back, not to his more immediate +ancestors, the purely savage hunters of those low hills, but to +something older still, to the barbarians who had swept down on them to +found principalities and powers; for all the calm dignity of the +Indo-Scythic sculptures was in Nâgdeo's pose as he pricked the sleeper +with his spear. + +"Rise up, Keeper of the Pass; they wait for thee without." + +Baghéla was on his feet in a second. He knew the time had come, and +something of the old racial courage in him held that new fear in +check. + +Until, not a hundred yards without the cave, in the faint grey light +of the now coming dawn, a paler shadow showed in the darker shadows, +long, low, sinuous; and something moved across their path with no +sound of footfall; only a crackle of dry twigs, a sudden, soft, short +wheeze, and then silence. + +"Ring the bells, Keeper of the Pass," came the old man's voice. "There +is no fear. Has not the tale of thy prowess spread among the tiger +people?" + +His prowess! The sting of that slight scratch was as fire on the lad's +back; he paused. But a spear from behind reached to his, struck it +sideways, and the next instant the challenge echoed through the pass. + +And was accepted. + +The shadow grew short, showed paler; till two green lights flashed +out, and with a roar that rolled among the rocks, the tiger faced +them, crouched and sprang. + +Old Nâgdeo, his vanished youth returning for a space, sprang too, +watching that other spring; so, spear in hand, found himself close to +the striped skin of the base usurper of the Old God's shape, into +which, with all the force he possessed, he drove his weapon's point. +But Baghéla, with no thought but flight, felt the full force of those +mighty claws on his back, and fell. Perhaps his neck was broken; +anyhow, he lay still, heedless of the piteous cry that followed:-- + +"Face him, Keeper of the Pass! Face the teeth, face the claws, ere +thou seekest the Slumberers!" + +Yet the entreaty was not utterly disregarded; since--Baghéla +dead--that Keepership passed again to one whose face faced the old +enemy bravely. + +That face, however, had no triumph of victory in it, when Nâgdeo +stooped over his grandson's body, and turned its scored back to be +hidden by Mother Earth. There was no mark anywhere else--not a +scratch. That, at any rate, must not be. That must be remedied before +the villagers saw it; before even the sun saw it. For was not Budhal +Pen, the Old God, the Sun-god also? + +So he drew the lad's body deliberately within reach of the mighty +claws, and used them, slack as they were in newly-come death, for his +purpose. + +Then he sat down beside the two dead bodies, and looked at his own for +scratch or hurt. There was not one; not even a bruise, not a spot of +blood. So none need know. The girls might weep as they broke their +pitchers over Baghéla bewailing his dead courage. + +The courage which had died before he did, though none should know of +it. Yet it had died. And who was to blame? + +Nâgdeo sat gazing stupidly at his grandson's long length, at his +fairer beauty; then suddenly he stood up. + +That was it, of course! + +And if that were so, then it were best to settle it before dawn, when +folk might come prying. He bent curiously over the dead lad, then laid +his hand on the dead heart. + +"Go! Keeper of the Pass, to the Slumberers without fear. I, Nâgdeo, +will punish the intruder." + +Half-an-hour after, he stood silently in his hut beside his still +sleeping wife. The old woman, blind, deaf, near her end as it was, +scarcely stirred as he drove his spear through her heart. + +"I doubt thee not, Naolé," he said inwardly, "unless a devil wronged +thee; but thy son's son must be avenged. He must take no stranger's +blood to the Slumberers." + +But Herdâsi, the lad's mother, was awake, and screamed. + +"Hold thy peace, fool!" said the old man, fiercely, "if thou wouldst +not proclaim thyself harlot. Thy son is dead--face downwards. It came +not from me, nor from my son; so that of us which goes to join the +Slumberers must be avenged on the vile spirit that took form within +thee. Come out from under the bed, woman! if thou wouldst prove he got +it not with thy knowledge. Oh! untrustworthy feminine!" + +And after a pause the untrustworthy feminine did come out with a +curious dignity. + +"He got it not from me but from my love. Yet what matter if he be +dead!" said Herdâsi, and so died with her face to the foe to save her +son's name. Since, if it was a devil's doing, none could blame the +lad. + +They found the old man sitting beside the two dead women when they +came to tell him that the Keeper of the Pass had given his life for +its safety. + +"Yea, I know," replied Nâgdeo, quietly. "I went and found him before +dawn when he returned not. So I came home and slew these useless ones. +Since he was dead, and I am nigh death, and there was none to keep the +untrustworthy feminine from wandering." + +He adhered to this story steadfastly in the district magistrate's +court, and when he was condemned to death made but one request--that +he might be allowed to face it with the insignia of his office about +him. So on the eve of his execution they gave the old man back his +necklace of tiger claws, and told him he would be allowed to jingle +his bells on his way to the scaffold. But when they came to rouse him +in the morning he was lying dead, face upward; his arms, his chest, +his throat all rent and ripped by those same tiger claws. + +But there was not even a scratch upon the back of the last Keeper of +the Pass. + + + + + THE PERFUME OF THE ROSE + + +"I think we ought to be going back to the others," said the girl. + +She was a pretty, fair English girl, fresh as a rose in her dainty +pink muslin dress, flounced as they wore them in the mutiny year--in +three full flounces to the waist, like the corolla of a flower. And +the lace sunshade she held tilted over her shoulder as a protection +against the slanting rays of the afternoon sun added to her +rose-likeness by its calyx of pale green lining. + +"Ought we?" said the young Englishman who walked beside her, his hand +clasping hers. They were a good-looking pair, pleasant to behold. +"What a bore; it is so jolly here." + +The epithet was not happy, save as an expression of the speaker's +frame of mind. For the garden into which these engaged lovers had +wandered away from the gay party of English men and women who had +taken possession of the marble summer-house in its centre for a +picnic, or, as the natives call it, "a fool's dinner," was something +more than jolly. + +It was beautiful, this garden of a dead dynasty of kings past and gone +like last year's roses. + +But there were roses and to spare still within its high four-square +walls that were hidden from each other by the burnished orange-groves, +by the tall forest trees fringing its cross of wide marble aqueducts +bordered by wide paths. + +Such blossoming trees! The _kachnar_ flinging its bare branches, set +thick with its geranium flowers, against the creamy feathers waving +among the dense dark foliage of the _mangoes_, the _bakayun_ drooping +its long lilac tassels beside the great gold ones of the _umultâs_, +and here and there its whole vitality lavished on a monstrous leaf or +two, a huge flower or two, white, curved, solid, as if cut in cold +marble, yet with a warm fragrance at its heart, a hill magnolia +challenged the scent of the roses below. + +Ineffectually, at least here in this square of the garden; for that +cross of wide, empty aqueducts divided it into squares. + +And this one was a square of roses--roses everywhere, even in the +lower level of what in the old kingly days had been a marble-edged +water-way, which now, half filled with soil, held more roses. + +But they were all of one kind--the pink Persian rose, whose outer +petals pale in the sunlight, whose rose of roses heart is full of an +almost piercing perfume. + +What wonder, when it is the otto of roses rose! It grew here for that +set purpose in orderly lines, its grey green, velvety leaves almost +hidden by its profusion of flowers. + +And the scent of them filled the whole square of garden, where the +air, still warm from the past noon, lay prisoned in that fringe of +blossoming trees. + +It seemed to fill the brain, also, with the quintessence of gladness, +beauty, life, and love. + +So His arm sought Her waist and their eyes met. + +But only for a second; the next, Her blush matching Her flounces, She +had drawn back, and He with an angry frown was glaring in the +direction of the voice which had interrupted them. + +It was a high, clear voice full of little trills and bubblings like a +bird's, and it sang on incessantly, as if to give those two time to +recover from their confusion. And as it sang, the Persian vowels +seemed as piercingly sweet as the perfume into which they echoed. + + + "The rose-root takes earth's kisses for its meat, + The rose-leaf makes its blush from the sun's heat, + The rose-scent wakes-who knows from what thing + sweet? + Who knows + The secret of the perfume of the rose?" + + +As the song ended, a head showed above the tufted bushes. It was +rather a fine head; bare of covering, its long grizzled hair parted in +the middle lying in a smooth outward curve on the high narrow +forehead, then sweeping in an equal inside curve between the ear and +throat. So much, no more, was to be seen above the roses, save, for a +moment, a long-fingered, delicate brown hand hiding the face in its +_salaam_. + +"Who the _shaitan_ are you?" asked the young man fiercely in +Hindustani. + +The head and hand met in a second _salaam_, then the face showed; +rather a fine face, preternaturally grave, but with a cunning +comprehension in its gravity. + +"I am Hushmut the essence-maker, _Huzoor_," was the reply. "I belong +to the garden, and, being hidden from the noble people in my +occupation of plucking roses for my still, I sang to let them know." + +The young Englishman gave a half-embarrassed laugh. + +"What does he say?" asked the girl. She had only been two months in +India, and these had been spent in falling in love. + +"He thought we might like to know he was there, that's all--a joke, +isn't it?" answered her lover. She smiled, and so holding each other's +hands boldly they stood facing that head above the roses. + +It nodded cheerfully. + +"The _Huzoors_ are doubtless about-to-marry persons," came the voice. +"It is not always so, even with the _Huzoors_. But this being +different, if they require essences for the bridal let them come to +Hushmut. Rose, jasmine, orange, sandal, lemon grass. I make them all +in their season. Yea, even 'wylet'[4] which the _memi_ love. It is not +really _banafsha_, _Huzoor_; they grow not in the plains. I make it +from the _babul_ blossom, and none could tell the difference. Mayhap +there _is_ none, since He who makes the perfume of the flowers in His +still, may send the same to many blossoms, as I send my essences to +many lovers; even the noble people!" + + +--------------------- + +[Footnote 4: Violet.] + +--------------------- + + +There was distinct raillery in the last words, and the young +Englishman's smile vanished. + +"We people hold not with essences," he said curtly; adding to the +girl, "Come, dear, I think we really ought to go back, your father +will be wanting to go home--he has a lot of work, I know--" + +A shuffle in the bushes made the lovers pause, a curious shuffle such +as a wounded bird makes in its efforts to escape. + +"If the most noble will tarry, this slave will at least make the +luck-offering to the bride," came the voice again, and to point its +meaning the delicate brown hand held up a circular shallow basket +heaped with rose-petals. Heaped so lightly, that the hand held it +level, and it seemed to glide on the top of the bushes, heralding the +grizzled head which slid after it with a faintly undulating movement. + +The cause of this became clear when the limit of the roses was +reached. + +Hushmut the essence-maker must have been a cripple from birth. The +loose blue cloth, such as gardeners wear knotted round their loins +like a petticoat, hid, however, all deformity, even when he clambered +up the marble edge of the old water-way, and shuffled with sidelong +jerks along the path to the pink muslin flounces. + +The wearer's eyes grew soft suddenly. The mystery of such births came +home to the woman who was so soon to be a wife, perhaps a mother. + +She gave him a mother's look anyhow; the look of almost passionate +pity a woman gives to a child's deformity. + +Perhaps he saw it. Anyhow he paused; then, with his bold black eyes +twinkling, held out the basket. + +"A handful, _Huzoor_, for luck!" he cried. + + + "A rose ungathered is but a rose, + Pluck it, lover, don't mind a thorn; + Tuck it away in your bosom-clothes, + And drink its beauty from night to morn." + + +The voice trilled and bubbled quite decorously, but the young +Englishman intercepted a deliberate wink, and felt inclined to kick +Hushmut to lower levels; till he remembered that the girl could not +understand. + +"Take a handful," he said, "and let's get rid of him." The girl +obeyed, but, by mere chance, the little white hand with his ring on it +did tuck its handful of pink rose-leaves away in the loose pink +ruffles on her breast. Whereat Hushmut's approval became so +unmistakable that the young Englishman felt that the only thing was to +escape from it. + +Yet as he hurried the girl back to the summerhouse he turned to listen +to the essence-maker's voice as he went on with his song, and his +rose-picking. + + + "Dig, gardener! deep; till the Earth-lips cling tight. + Prune, gardener! keep those blushes to the light. + Then, gardener, sleep! he brings the scent by night. + Who knows + The secret of the perfume of the rose?" + + +There was nothing to be seen now but the stunted grey green bushes +half hidden in blossom; even the head had disappeared. They were a +queer people, thought the young man, very difficult to understand. +Then the refrain returned to him-- + + + "Who knows + The secret of the perfume of the rose?" + + +"Hushmut?" answered an older man who lounged smoking in one of the +marble-fretted balconies of the dead King's pleasure-house. "Oh, yes! +he is quite a character. A scoundrel, I believe; at least he knows all +the worst lots in the city. They come to the garden at night, you see, +and the bazaar women get all their essences from him. So I expect he +knows at any rate of all the devilry that's going on. I wish I did." +The speaker's face looked a trifle harassed. + +"Is it true, sir, what they say?" asked another voice, "that +Hushmut is really the King's son. That his mother was a Brahmin girl +they kidnapped, who cried herself to death in one of these rooms. +Then, when the child was a cripple, the King--by Jove, he was a +brute!--disowned it." + +"Is that about Hushmut?" asked the girl, who had joined the group in +time to hear the last words. + +The men looked at each other, and the older one said: "Yes, my dear; +they say he was deserted by his parents because he was a cripple. +Rather rough on him. Now I think I'll go and get your mother to come +home. It's getting late. You'll follow, I suppose?" + +"Yes, father, with him," she said, with a rose-blush. + +So, by degrees, in couples, as a rule, but sometimes with a pale-faced +child tucked into the carriage between father and mother, the +pleasure-seekers left the garden of dead Kings to the scent of the +roses. Left it cheerfully, calling back to their friends times and +places where they were to meet again, as English men and women did on +those fatal evenings in May, '57. + +Only the girl in the pink frock and her lover lingered; while the +dogcart in which he was to drive her home waited under the blossoming +trees. + +And as they stood talking, as lovers will, Hushmut the essence-maker, +thinking the coast was clear, came shuffling down the scented shadow +of the path--for the sun had left the garden--pushing his basket of +rose-leaves before him, dragging his crippledom behind him. + +"Do you think he would show us his still?" said the girl, suddenly. +"I've never seen one. Ask him, will you?" + +Hushmut's big, bold black eyes twinkled. Certainly the Miss-_sahiba_ +might see. There was no secret in his work. He took the scent as he +found it, as wise men took love. Again there was that faint suspicion +of raillery only to be pardoned by the girl's ignorance, and also by a +conviction that Hushmut counted on that ignorance, and meant the +remark only for the young Englishman. And so, oddly, the latter became +conscious of a distinct antagonism between himself and the crippled +essence-maker. It was absurd, ludicrous; but it existed, nevertheless. + +There was not much to see in those vaults under the plinth of the +pleasure-palace in which Hushmut had set up his distillery. They were +very low, very dark, the only light coming through the open door, and +from the row of rose-shaped air-holes pierced at intervals in the +plinth. Viewed from outside, these formed part of its raised and +pierced marble decoration. From within they looked quaint and +flower-like, set as they were in the dim shadowy vault, hidden here +and there by the dumpy columns, showing through the arches distantly, +softly, brightly pink; for Hushmut had pasted pink paper over them, to +keep out the bees and wasps, he explained, which otherwise, led by the +scent of the flowers, came in troublesome numbers. + +The rude still, like a huge cooking-pot, stood in one corner, and all +about it lay trays on trays of fading rose-leaves. + +"_Pah!_ How sickly sweet! Let's get outside," said the young man after +a brief glance round. But the girl stood looking curiously at a +brownish-yellow mass piled beside the still. + +"What is that?" she asked. Hushmut's black eyes turned to her +comprehendingly. He shuffled to the pile and held out a sample for her +to see. She bent to look at it. + +"Rose-leaves!" she said. "Oh! I see--after scent has been taken out of +them. Poor things! What a shame!" + +Hushmut said something rapidly in Hindustani, and the girl turned to +her companion for explanation. + +"He says," translated the latter, with a curiously grudging note in +his voice, "that they have their use. He dries them in the sun and +burns them in the furnace of his still." + +She shook her head and smiled. "That's poor compensation!" Then she +bent closer and sniffed regretfully at what Hushmut held. + +"All gone!" she said, so like a child that her lover laughed at her +tenderly. + +"What else did you expect, you goose! + + +'Only the actions of the just, smell sweet and blossom in the dust!' + + +So come; we really must be off; it's getting late." + +He felt in his pocket, and held out a _baksheesh_ to Hushmut; but the +latter shook his head, and once more said something rapidly in +Hindustani. It had a note of petition in it, but the request was +apparently not to the hearer's taste. That was to be seen from his +face. + +"What does he want?" asked the girl, curiously. + +"Nothing he is going to get," replied her lover, moving off; "the +cheek of the man!" + +But the pink muslin stood its ground. "What is it?" she persisted; "I +want to know. He doesn't look to me as if he meant to be rude, +and--and"--her face softened--"if it is anything we can do, I'd--I'd +like to do it. Tell me, please." + +The young fellow shrugged his shoulders impatiently. + +"Oh! only fooling! He wants you to give him back some of the +rose-leaves he gave you, that he may put them in his new brew, to--to +make it sweeter; says the luck-gift of a bride always does--" + +The girl blushed and smiled all over. + +"Well, why not? It is a pretty idea, anyhow." She drew out the handful +of rose-leaves as she spoke, then paused with a faint wonder, for the +warmth of their shelter had made their perfume almost bewildering. + +"How--how sweet they are!" she murmured. Then, still smiling, but with +the blush faded almost to paleness, she dropped the rose-leaves into +the delicate, long-fingered hand. + +"I hope it will be the sweetest essence you ever made," she said with +a laugh, and Hushmut seemed to understand, for he smiled back and +_salaamed_ as he, in his turn, tucked the charm into his bosom for use +when the still should be ready for closing, and as he did so, he said +in his high, suave voice-- + +"May He who knows the secret of the rose protect the bride." He said +it without the least suspicion of reality; simply as a dignified piece +of courtesy. + +A minute afterwards the wheels of that last dogcart, as it drove out +of the garden, disturbed the birds which had already begun to choose +their resting-places for the night; since they too looked for the +usual rest and peace in that fatal Maytime. + +And for a space the peace, the rest settled on the garden. Only +Hushmut's voice, as he busied himself in packing the pink petals into +his still, told of any life in it beyond the birds, the flowers, the +bees. + +One of these, belated, drifted into the vault through the open door, +and hummed a background to the high, trilling voice. + + + "Pale, pale are the rose-lips, sweet! + Red is the heart of the rose, + But red are the lips mine meet, + And your heart white as the snows." + + +Then a faint, almost noiseless patter of bare running feet paused at +the door, and some one looked in to say breathlessly-- + +"It hath begun, they say. But who knows? I am off to the city to see." + +Hushmut looked up startled from his rose-leaves; startled, nothing +more. + +"Begun!--so soon--wherefore?" + +"God knows!" came the breathless voice. "Mayhap it is a lie. Some +thought it would not come at all. I will return and tell thee the +news." + +The faint, almost noiseless patter of bare feet died away, and there +was peace and rest in the garden for another space. Only Hushmut +shuffled to the door, looked out curiously, then shuffled back to his +work, for that must be finished before dark, else the roses would +spoil, squandering their sweetness. There was another pile of +brownish, yellow residuum ready dried for the furnace, and as he +filled a basket with it, his hands among the scentless stuff, a sudden +remembrance of his own impotence, his own deprivation, came to him. +Perhaps he had seen a hint of the simile in the English girl's face. + +He smiled half cynically and muttered-- + + + "Only the dust of the rose remains for the perfume-seller." + + +He paused almost before the bit of treasured wisdom was ended. There +was a sound of wheels; of a galloping horse's feet. + +Some one was coming back to the garden. The next instant, through the +open door, he saw two figures running; an Englishman, an English girl +in a pink dress. The man's arm was round her as he ran; he looked back +fearfully, then seemed to whisper something in her ear, and she gave +answer back. + +"What was it?" they said to each other. Hushmut knew by instinct. + +He was thinking of the roof of the palace pleasure-house, of the +winding stair that led to it, down which it would at least be possible +to fling a foe, before the end came; and She was thinking of the +marble plinth below, where, when that end came, a woman might find +safety from men's hands in death. + +So they came on through the growing shadows. + +Hushmut shuffled to the door and watched the figures calmly, +indifferently, as they neared him; for the way to the winding stair +lay up the steps which rose just beyond the low door of his distillery +in the plinth. + +Perhaps the dusk hid him from those two; perhaps even in broad +daylight they would not, in their fierce desire to reach not safety +but resistance, have seen him. + +They did not, anyhow; but as they passed the door the girl's muslin +flounce caught hard on its lintel hasp, and as in frantic haste she +stooped to rip it free, the scent of those rose-leaves Hushmut had +given her, still lingering in the ruffles at her breast, seemed to +pass straight back into those same rose-leaves in his own. + +That was all, nothing more. But it brought back his last words to her: +"May He who knows the secret of the rose protect the bride." + +Strange! + +The same instant his long-fingered brown hand was on her white one as +she tugged at her dress. + +"This way, _Huzoor!_" he cried in a loud voice, for the man to hear. +"There is a secret passage here; it leads to safety." + +Safety! That word, better than resistance, not to the man himself, but +as sole guardian to the girl, arrested him in a second, tempted him. + +He looked, hesitated, then dragged his charge on--dragged her from +anything with a dark skin to it. + +But her white one touching this dark one, found something in it to +give confidence; or perhaps that fragrance of the flower from His +still which "He sends to many blossoms," had passed from Hushmut's +breast to hers, as hers had to Hushmut's. He knows, who knows the +secret of the perfume of the rose. + +Anyhow she hung back, and she called pitifully, clamorously-- + +"No! No! Let us trust him--let us take the chance." + +There was no time for remonstrance. + +The next second they were in the cool, scented darkness of the vault, +with those pink air-holes showing like shadowy roses among the low +arches, the squat pillars. + +"At the farther end," came Hushmut's voice, amid his shuffling, till +the latter ceased in the rasping of a chain unhasped. "Here, _Huzoor_, +it leads to the Summer Palace beyond the garden wall. So by the mango +groves to the Residency. May He who knows the secret of the perfume of +the rose protect the bride." + +His voice sounded hollow in their ears as they ran down the vaulted +passage which opened before them, lit at intervals by those cunning +air-holes hidden flowerfully in the scrollwork of one of the +marble-edged aqueducts, and the closing door behind them blew a breath +of the rose scent from the vault after their retreating figures. + + + * * * * * + + +Two years had passed. Nine long months spent in keeping a foe at bay; +three in following that spent and broken foe to the bitter end; and +then a year of English skies and English faces to dull the memory of +that long strain to mind and body. + +And then once more a young Englishman, with a girl in a pink dress, +drove into that garden of dead Kings. But the four-square wall was in +ruins. It had been a rallying-point of that spent and broken foe. + +The garden itself was neglected, the roses unpruned. And those two +were changed also, and an _ayah_ holding a baby remained in the hired +carriage which they left waiting for them under the blossoming trees, +as the dogcart had waited that May evening two years before. + +"I'm afraid he must have thought us awfully ungrateful," said the man, +regretfully. "But it couldn't be helped at first; then afterwards one +had to move on. But I did write, you know, more than once about him, +after we got a grip on the place again; so I hope they have done +something." + +"They will have to now, at any rate," said the wearer of the pink +dress, firmly. + +The sight of the garden, changed, neglected as it was, had brought +back the very picture of that grizzled head with the curved hair, +slipping through the rose-bushes, the delicate dark hand holding the +tray of rose-leaves, as it slid over the bushes with its luck-offering +for the bride. Yes! even if justice had been slow, inevitably slow, it +should come now. This very evening, though she and her husband had +only arrived in the station that morning. + +They went to the rose square first, but Hushmut was not there. Then, +seeing by the lack of blossom that the time of roses was not yet, they +went on to the orange groves. + +No one was there. So, doubtfully, they passed to the jasmine, to the +lemon grass. + +But no one was to be seen. Nothing was to be heard but the lazy yet +insistent cry of some one scaring the birds from the pomegranates. + +"Let us ask him. He may know," suggested the wearer of the pink dress. +So they called him and he came--an old man, wizened, careworn. + +Yes, he said, he knew. Wherefore not, when he had guarded fruit in +that garden since he was a boy? There was not much to guard now, owing +to past evils. Hushmut the essence-maker--Hushmut was dead. No one +made essences any more. How did he die? Very simply. He had seen it +with his own eyes when he was guarding fruit. The _Huzoors_ had +doubtless heard of the evil times, even though, as the coachman had +told him, they had just come from _wilayet_. Well, it began quite +suddenly one evening in May. It was the peaches he was guarding then. +There had been a "fool's dinner" in the garden, and afterwards a young +_sahib_ and a miss in a pink dress had come running in to take refuge +from the troopers. He had seen them, but what could he do? But Hushmut +had shown them the secret passage, no doubt. Anyhow he had come out +alone and closed the door, and sate beside it singing when the +troopers rode up. + +And doubtless they would have believed him, seeing that he was friends +with all the bad walkers in the city through the selling of his +essences; but for a bit of the Miss-_sahiba's_ dress which had caught +in the door hasp. So they knew what he had done, and being enraged, +had killed him there, by the door. It was quite simple. + +Quite. So simple that those two said nothing. Only their hands sought +each other as they turned back to the summer-house. + +"I should like to see the place again," said the wearer of the pink +dress in a hard, even voice. "I wonder if the door is open?" + +It was; for no one made essences now. So they entered. + +The still stood in the corner as before. The pile of that strange fuel +lay between it and the trays of rose-leaves. But there was no +difference between them now. Both were yellow, scentless; and though +the pink paper which Hushmut had pasted over the rose-shaped air-holes +was all broken and torn by birds and winds and weather, the bees did +not drift in. + +For there was no scent to lead them on. None. + +The winds of two long years had swept it away absolutely. What else +was to be expected? + +Yet a vague disappointment showed in the woman's face as it had in the +girl's. + +But this time the man's voice trembled as he answered her look with +the words-- + + + "Only the actions of the just, + Smell sweet and blossom in the dust." + + + + + LITTLE HENRY AND HIS BEARER + + + CHAPTER I + +When I was a child I wept over a story--if I remember right, by Mrs. +Sherwood--which bore this title. + +Years after I came to man's estate, I felt inclined to weep over an +incident in real life which this title seemed to fit. + +Looking back on those first tears, I judge them uncalled for by what +my maturer age condemns as false sentiment. Perhaps my later emotion +is equally at fault. The reader had better judge for himself. + + + * * * * * + + +"Speak on, O Bisrâm, bearer! Wherefore dost not obey? Speak on about +Mai Kâli and the Noose--the Noose that is so soft, that never slips. +Wherefore dost not speak, son of an owl?" + +The voice was childish, fretful. So was the listless little figure in +a flannel dressing-gown, which lay half upon the reed mat spread on +the verandah floor, half against the red and yellow livery coat of +Bisrâm, bearer. The latter remained silent, his dark eyes fixed +deprecatingly on a taller figure within earshot. It was the child's +mother, standing for a glance at her darling. + +"Speak! Why dost not speak, base-born child of pigs? Lo! I will smite +thee. Speak of Mai Kâli and the Noose. Lo! Bisrâm, bearer, be not +unkind. Remember I am sick. Show me the Noose. _Ai!_ Bisra! show it to +Sonny Baba." + +The liquid Urdu fell from the child's lips with quaint precision, and +ended in the coaxing wail of one who knows his power. + +That was unmistakable. The man's high-bred, sensitive face, which had +not quivered under the parentage assigned to him by the thin, +domineering voice, melted at the appeal, and the red and yellow arms +seemed to close round their charge at the very suggestion of sickness. +Bisrâm gave another deprecating glance at the tall white figure at the +door, and then, from the folds of his waistcloth, took out a silk +handkerchief crumpled into a ball. But a dexterous flutter left it in +uncreased folds across the child's knees. + +"Lo! Protector of the Poor! such is the Noose of Kâli," said Bisrâm, +deferentially. + +Seen thus, the handkerchief looked larger than one would have +expected: or perhaps it is more correct to say longer, for, the +texture being loose like canvas, even the slight drag across the +child's knees stretched the stuff lengthwise. It was of that curious +Indian colour called _oodah_, which is not purple or crimson, but +which looks as if it had been the latter and might become the +former--the colour, briefly, of recently spilt blood. It looked well, +however, in the soft lustrous folds lying upon the child's white +dressing-gown. He smiled down at it joyfully: yet not content, since +there was more to come. + +"Twist it for Mai Kâli. Twist it, Bisrâm, bearer! _Ai!_ base-born, +twist it or I will smite--" + +"It is time for the Shelter of the World to take his medicine," began +Bisrâm, interrupting the imperious little voice. "Lo! does his Honour +not see the _mem_ waiting for him?" + +Sonny gave a quick glance at his mother. He knew his power there also. +"I'se not goin' to take it, mum," he called decisively, "till he's +twisted a' Noose. I won't--I want a' stwangle somefin' first. Tell +him, mum--please. Then I'll 'waller it like a good boy." + +"Do what he wants, Bisrâm, and then bring him here," said Sonny's +mother, her eyes soft. For the child had but lately chosen the path of +Life instead of the Valley of the Shadow, so even wayward footsteps +along it were welcome. + +"Now is it Government orders," boasted Sonny, reverting to the +precisions and peremptoriness of Hindustani with a wave of his small +hand. "So twist and strangle, and if thou dost it not, my father will +cause hanging to come to thee." + +"_Huzoor!_" assented Bisrâm, cheerfully, as he shifted his burden +slightly so as to free his left hand. The next instant a purple +crimson rope of a thing, circled on itself, settled down upon the neck +of a big painted mud tiger, bright yellow with black stripes and fiery +red eyes, which one of the native visitors had brought that morning +for the magistrate's little son. + +"Now the Protector of the Poor can pull," said Bisrâm, bearer. "It +will not slip." + +But Sonny's wan little face had perplexity and doubt in it. "But, +Bisra, Mai Kâli rides a tiger. She wouldn't stwangle it. Would she, +mum? I wouldn't stwangle my pony. I'd wather stwangle the gwoom; +wouldn't you, mum? I would. I'd wather like to stwangle Gâmoo." + +"My dear Sonny!" exclaimed his mother, looking with amused horror at +the still, helpless little figure which Bisrâm had brought to her. +"You wouldn't murder poor Gâmoo, surely!" + +Sonny made faces over his quinine, as if that were a matter of much +more importance. + +"'Ess, I would," he said, with his mouth full of sweet biscuits. "I'd +stwangle him, and then Mai Kâli would be pleased for a fousand years; +and then I'd stwangle Ditto an' Peroo too; so she'd be pleased for a +fousand fousand years--wouldn't she, Bisra?" + +"_Huzoor!_" assented Bisrâm, bearer. + +"My dear," said Sonny's mother, going back with a somewhat disturbed +look to the room where the magistrate, Sonny's father, was busy over +crabbed Sanskrit texts and bright-coloured talc pictures; for in his +leisure hours he was compiling a Hindu Pantheon for the use of +students, "I almost wish Bisrâm would not tell Sonny so many stories +about the gods and goddesses. They do such horrid things." + +The scholar, who in his heart nourished a hope that his son might in +due time follow in his footsteps, and, perhaps, gain reputation where +his father only found amusement, looked up from his books mildly. + +"Gods and goddesses always do, my dear. Their morality seldom conforms +to that which obtains among their worshippers. I intend to draw +general attention to this anomaly. Besides, Sonny will have to learn +these things anyhow when he begins Greek and Latin; he will in fact +find this previous knowledge of great use. Kâli, for instance, is +the terrific form of Durga who, of course, corresponds to the Juno +of the Greeks and Romans and the Isis of Egypt. She is also the +crescent-crowned Diana, and as Parbutt the Earth-mother Ceres. Under +the name of Atma, again, she is 'goddess of souls governing the three +worlds,' and so equivalent to Hecate Triformis--" + +"Yes! my dear," interrupted his wife, meekly. "But for all that I +don't want Sonny to talk of strangling the grooms; it really doesn't +sound nice. However, as Bisrâm is eager, now Sonny is really +recovering, to get away at once for his usual leave, I won't say +anything to the child. He will forget while Bisrâm is away, and I will +give orders that the latter is not to mention the subject on his +return." + +Bisrâm himself, receiving his pay and his orders ere starting on the +yearly visit to his own country, which was the only portion of +his life by day or night not absolutely--without any reservation +whatever--at the disposal of his employers, fully acquiesced in the +_mem-sahiba's_ dictum. The Noose of Kâli was scarcely a nice game for +the little master; indeed his slave would never have introduced it +under ordinary circumstances. But the _mem_ must remember that +dreadful day when the Heart's-eye lay so still, caring for nothing, +and the doctor-_sahib_ had said there was nothing to be done save to +coax him into looking into the restless Face of Life instead of into +the restful Face of Death. That was when he, Bisrâm, who knew, had +spoken of the Noose; and, at least, it had done the little Shelter of +the World no harm. + +"Harm?" echoed Sonny's mother, gently. "You have never done him harm, +Bisra. Why, the doctor-_sahib_ himself said your hand was fortunate +with the child. If you had not been with him, I think--I think, +Bisrâm--he might have died. And now I am even wondering if I am wise +to let you go--" + +Bisrâm looked up eagerly. "I must go, _Huzoor_--I must go without fail +to-night--the year is over--" He paused abruptly, then added quietly: +"The _Huzoor_ need have no fear. The little master will do well. The +Mighty One who cares for children will protect this one." + +He spoke with such faith in voice and face, that Sonny's mother going +back once more to the study, and finding her husband busy as usual +over his Pantheon, lingered to look doubtfully at the talc pictures, +and finally remark that after all the people really had a good deal of +religious feeling, and actually seemed to believe in a God. Bisrâm, +for instance, had said that Sonny was in the guardianship of One who +suffered the little children-- Here her eyes filled with tears, and +her voice sank. + +"He meant Mâta Devi, I expect, my dear," replied the scholar without +looking up. "She is another form of Kâli or Durga, and corresponds to +Cybele or the Mater Montana--" + +"He was very eager to get away, however," went on Sonny's mother, +almost aggrievedly. "I really think he might have stayed a few days +longer till the boy was quite himself. But devoted as he is, he is +just like the rest of them--selfishly set on what they are accustomed +to--" + +"He put off going nearly a month though, and you know, my dear, that +when he took service as Sonny's bearer, he stipulated for a +fortnight's leave every spring, about a certain time, in order to +perform some religious ceremonial," protested the justice. + +"Well, and he has had it. Every year for five years; so he might have +given it up for once. But he wouldn't. I don't believe he would, not +even to save Sonny's life. However, I think the child is all right, +and even if I had kept Bisrâm, he wouldn't have been much good, for he +has been frightfully restless and hurried the last few days." + +He did not seem so, however, as he stood quietly in the growing dusk +at the gateless gate of the compound to look back at the house where +he had left the little Shelter of the World asleep. His scarlet and +yellow coat was gone, replaced by the faint coral-coloured garments of +the pilgrim; he carried a network-covered pot for holy water, slung on +his left wrist, and the yellow trident of Siva showed like a frown on +his forehead. The thickets of flowering shrubs, the tangles of white +petunias bordering the path, sent their perfume into the air; but +above it rose the heavy, dead-sweet scent from a wild _dhatura_ plant +which, taking advantage of an unweeded nook by the gate, thrust its +long white flowers across the pilaster; one of them indeed reaching +past it, and so, seen five-pointed against the dusk beyond, looking +like a slim white hand pointing the way thither. + +Bisrâm stooped deliberately to pick it, tore it into its five +segments, and placed the pieces in his bosom, muttering softly, +"With heart and brain and feet, and hands and eyes, Devi, I am thy +servant." Then for a second he raised himself to his full height, and +stretched both his thin, fine hands--such delicately supple, strong +hands--towards the house. "Sleep sound, Life of my Life," he murmured +again. "Sleep sound, and have no fear. The offering will be complete, +though the time is short indeed." + +So, turning on his heel, he passed into the dusk, beyond the gate, +whither the flower had pointed. + +A fortnight later he came out of it once more, passed into his hut in +the gloaming, dressed as a pilgrim, and emerged therefrom ten minutes +afterwards in the red and yellow coat, with a huge white turban with a +bend, as the heralds call it, across it bearing his master's crest. So +altered, he slipped back into his place as if he had never left it, +and setting aside the reed screen at the door of Sonny's nursery, +stood within. Sonny, in his white flannel dressing-gown, was +convalescent enough to be saying his prayers, kneeling on his mother's +knee. + +"Go on, dear," she said gently. "You can speak to Bisrâm afterwards." + +Sonny, whose feet were less wayward, now shut his eyes again, and +assumed a prayerful expression. + +"--an' all kine friends, an' make me a velly good boy--yamen--O Bisra! +where's the Noose?" The mother might smile, unable so far to pretend +ignorance. Not so Bisrâm, bearer, who had his orders. + +"What Noose, Shelter of the World?" he asked gravely. "Thy servant +remembers none; but he hath brought the Protector of the Poor a toy." + +It was only one of the many which you can buy in any Indian town for +the fraction of a farthing, made of mud, straw, cane; a bit of tinsel +perhaps, or tuft of cotton-wool, their sole value over and above the +ingenuity and time spent in making them. But Sonny had never seen this +kind before, and laughed as the snakes, made out of curled shavings, +leapt and twisted. Leapt so like life that his mother drew back +hastily, telling herself that the bearer had certainly a fine taste in +horrors. And no doubt there would be some tale to match these. Sonny, +however, seemed to know it vaguely, for a puzzled look replaced the +laugh. "Yea! Bisra," he said in imperious argument, "Mai Kâli had +snakes and skulls too; but I like the Noose best. Why didst not bring +it back, son of an owl?" + +The man never moved a muscle. "The little master mistakes," he replied +calmly. "It was some others who tied the Noose. Not this dustlike one. +He is but the Protector of the Poor's bearer, Bisrâm." + + + CHAPTER II + +A year is an eternity to the memory of a child. Indeed before a +twelfth of one was over Sonny had ceased from suddenly, irrelevantly +asking, "O Bisra! where is the Noose? Why didst not bring it back, son +of an owl?" The thought seemed to have passed from his life +altogether. From Bisrâm also, as he tended the child night and day, +day and night, unremittingly, contentedly. + +So the spring of the year returned, and with it, by one of those +mysterious coincidences beyond classification, came the old desire. It +came suddenly--irrelevantly it seemed to Sonny's parents--during a +brief attack of fever which the changing season brought to the boy. +But Bisrâm, bearer, hearing the little fretful wail, "O Bisra, where +is the Noose? I want the Noose," stood silent for a moment with a +scared look in his eyes, then turned them in quick appeal to his +mistress, as if to ask leave for something. But she was silent also, +so the old formula came gently-- + +"What Noose, Shelter of the World?" + +That evening, however, when Harry--as his mother vainly strove to call +him, now that, as she used to tell the boy fondly, he was a man and +had had his curls cut--had fallen into the heavy sleep which brings so +little relief, the bearer came into the study and asked for his usual +yearly leave. A week might do, but leave he must have at once. True, +the year was not up, but the master would doubtless remember that his +slave had deferred going at the proper season last time because of +Harry-_sahib's_ illness (Bisrâm, punctilious to the least order, never +forgot the child's new dignity). He did not want to lose the right +season again; and so, if he went now, at once, even for a week, he +would be back in time even if Harry-_sahib_ were to be ill as he was +last year, which Heaven forbid! + +He was quite calm, but there was an almost pathetic entreaty in his +dark eyes, so soft, so dark, that looking into them, one seemed to see +nothing save soft darkness. + +"Go!" commented Sonny's mother, when, moved by a vague feeling that +Bisrâm meant well, his master handed on his request to the real +authority. "Certainly not. I wonder he has the face to ask for leave +when Sonny--I mean Harry--is down with fever. Not that it is anything, +the doctor says, but a passing attack. Still, I am not going to run +any risks with a strange servant. Go, indeed! It shows what his +pretended devotion is worth--" + +"Surely, my dear, he _is_ devoted--" + +"Oh, very! in his way. But really you spoil Bisra, Edward. Just +because he can tell you things about those horrid gods and goddesses. +Do you know, I really think of getting an English nurse for the child +until I have--until I have to take him home," interrupted his wife, +her initial sharpness of tone softening over the inevitable certainty +of separation which clouds Indian motherhood. "It cannot be right to +let him live in such an atmosphere of superstition and ignorance." + +The magistrate, who was leaving the room, had paused at her remark +about the nurse as he might have paused before a painful scene. "By +Jove!" he murmured as if to himself, "I believe it would break the +man's heart. I often wonder what on earth he'll do when the child +has--to go home." + +The inevitable lent a tremor to the father's voice also. But Bisrâm, +despite the former's belief, spoke of the same separation quite calmly +when, the very next morning the doctor coming early, found his little +patient in the verandah getting the advantage of the fresh, bright air +in Bisra's arms. + +"When," asked the latter, calmly, but with that slow pathetic anxiety +in his eyes, "was Harry-_sahib_ going across the black water?" + +"You think he ought to go?" said the doctor. "Why?" + +"This slave does not think; he knows! The little master must go--go at +once," replied the man, still calmly, though he held the child to him +with a visibly closer strain. "The _Huzoor_ himself knows how bad +Hindustan is for the little ones. He must go, _Huzoor_, before he gets +worse." + +"But he is not going to get worse," said the doctor, kindly. "He is +better already, and if he has another bout of fever his mother has +promised to take him to the hills, so don't distress yourself." + +Bisrâm's dark eyes looked wistfully into the doctor's. + +"The hills? That would be worse. That would be nearer the evil. He +must go far from Hindustan at once, _Huzoor_; and if you tell the +_mem_ this she will go--she will not mind." + +"And you, Bisra?" asked the doctor, curiously. + +The man's eyes flinched, but he never stirred a muscle under the blow. + +"I am only the little master's bearer, _Huzoor_. He will not need one +much longer: he grows big." + +"It is only because he is in a hurry to get away himself, I verily +believe," said Sonny's mother, when the doctor, also vaguely impressed +with something in the man's appeal, told her of it. "You can't fathom +these people. Oh! I know he wouldn't abate one atom of his care, and +it is simply wonderful. All the same, I believe that just now he would +be glad to be rid of the necessity for it, since it clashes with some +of his religious notions. That's it, depend upon it. And I mean to let +him go as soon as Sonny--I mean Harry--is better; and he really is +better to-day, isn't he?" + +"Much better. And you may be right; only it's always impossible to lay +down the law for men like Bisra. Those high-caste hill Brahmins are a +law unto themselves. However, I expect to find the boy quite cool +to-morrow." He was not, however, and more than once, as he lay in +Bisra's arms, the little fretful wail rose between sleeping and +waking. "Where's the Noose, Bisra? I want the Noose." And Bisra would +pause as if waiting for a promise of wayward life in threat or abuse, +and when neither came would turn a wistful appeal to authority, and +when it was silent say-- + +"What Noose, Shelter of the World?" + +But in the dead of night a day or two later, when even maternal +authority slept for a brief spell, Bisra's answer to the request, +which came almost incoherently from the child's dry lips, was +different. + +Then he stood bent over the boy's cot in the attitude of a suppliant, +and his joined petitioning hands trembled. + +"Why dost ask it, Kâli ma?" he whispered rapidly. "Lo! have I not +served thee? Would I not serve thee now if I could? But I have +promised this, and they will not let me go for the other. Lo! Kâli ma! +be merciful and ask no more, and when the child has gone away, I will +serve thee all the years--yea! every day of all the years." + +There was no passion, no excitement in his face or voice; only that +pathetic appeal which passed into a murmured lullaby as the restless +little sleeper turned on his pillow with a sigh of greater content. + +"Better again this morning," was the doctor's verdict, with the rider +that Bisrâm himself stood in need of a little rest. The man smiled +faintly when his mistress replied that it would be her turn that +night; though, to say sooth, Harry certainly did seem to improve when +she slept. + +"Perhaps Bisrâm works charms," remarked the doctor, thoughtlessly; +whereat she frowned. + +Charms or no charms, the boy was certainly worse next morning, and +that despite the fact that Bisrâm, who had steadily refused to go +further than the verandah, had spent the night huddled up outside the +threshold, within which his mistress refused to allow him to come. He +needed rest, she said, and though she could not compel him to take it, +he should at least not work. + +"You had better let him have his own way to-night," said the doctor at +his evening visit. "The child gets on better, and you are fresher for +the day's nursing. Those thin, delicate-looking natives are very wiry, +and if the man won't rest, he won't, and that's an end of it." + +He spoke cheerfully; but as he was getting into his dogcart he saw +Bisrâm at his elbow. "The doctor-_sahib_ thinks the little master very +ill to-night?" he asked quietly. + +"So ill that you must do your very best for him to-night. If any one +can pull him through, you can, remember that." + +"_Huzoor!_" said Bisrâm, submissively. + +It was a very dark night; so dark that the rushlight in Sonny's room +seemed almost brilliant from the verandah. Looking thence you could +see the child's cot, one of its side rails removed, and in its place, +as it were, the protection of Bisrâm's crouching figure. He did not +touch the cot; he crouched beside it with clasped hands hanging over +his knees, and dark eyes staring hard into the darkness as if waiting +and listening. + +So he sate, his clasped hands loosening, his eyes growing softer as +the hours passed, bringing nothing but half-conscious sleep, +half-conscious wakening to the child. Until suddenly, irrelevantly, +just on the border-land of night and day, the fretful wail rose upon +the silence loudly, insistently-- + +"Where is the Noose, Bisra? I want it. O Bisrâm, bearer, bring the +Noose, and strangle something." + +The slackness, the dreaminess left the man's hands and eyes. He +stood up blindly, desperately to face these last words; the words for +which he had been listening. Yet there was still the same pathetic +self-control as he stretched his hands out over the sleeping child. + +"Lo! Kâli ma," he muttered, "have I not served thee as ever, despite +the child. Have I set him before thee? Nay! thou knowest I have risked +life itself to have thy tale of offering complete when I was hindered. +Thou didst not suffer. Wilt not wait for once? Wilt not wait one +little while?" + +His voice, sinking in its entreaty, ended in silence. But only for a +second. Then the fretful wail began again. + +"The Noose, Bisra! Be not unkind. Remember I am ill. O Bisra! I want +you to strangle something for me--" + +Bisra gave a faint sob; then joined his outstretched hands. + +"_Huzoor!_ so be it! the Noose shall find a victim. Yea, Shelter of +the World, Bisra will strangle something. Sleep in peace!" + +There was no sound in the room after that save the little contented +sigh in which restlessness finds rest. + +Outside, the shiver of the cicalas seemed to count the seconds, but +inside the hours seemed to pass unnoticed as Bisra sate beside the +cot, his hands listless, his eyes dreamy. There was nothing to wait +for now, nothing to fear. That which had to come had come. + +So with the first glint of light, a stealthy step glided in, and an +anxious voice whispered-- + +"How is it with the child, Bisra?" + +"It is well!" he whispered back, rising rather stiffly. "He hath slept +since the darkest hour. He will sleep on." + +The mother, peering carefully for a glimpse of the child's face, +smiled at what she saw. + +"He sleeps, indeed. Thou hast done well, Bisra!" + +He made no answer. But ere he left the room, his night-watch being +over, he paused to touch the foot-rail of the cot with both hands and +so _salaam_, as those do who leave the presence. + +Sonny was still sleeping when his father, entering his study with a +lighter heart, found a stranger, as he thought, awaiting him there. It +was a man, naked save for a waistcloth, lean, sinewy, lithe; the head +was clean-shaven, save for the Brahminical tuft, and the face was +disfigured by the weird caste marks of extreme fanaticism. + +"Who--?" he began, shrinking involuntarily from one who might well be +dangerous. + +"It is Bisra, _Huzoor_" said a familiar voice, gently. "Bisra, the +child-bearer. Bisra, the servant of Kâli also. Lo! here is Her Noose." +As he spoke he held out the crimson-scarlet handkerchief twisted to a +rope, and coiled in his curved palms like a snake. "The master, being +learned, will know the Noose and its meaning. It hath brought Her many +a blood-offering, _Huzoor_. Many and many every year without fail. And +it will not fail this year either. It will bring Her the blood of Her +servant, the blood of Bisrâm the Strangler." + +"Bisrâm the Strangler!" echoed the magistrate, stupidly, as the even, +monotonous voice ceased. Then he sate down helplessly in his chair. In +truth he knew too much of the mystery of India to be quite +incredulous. + +Yet two hours after, when with the help of the police-officer he had +been cross-questioning Bisra upon his confession, he told himself as +helplessly that it was incredible--the man must be mad. He had been +born to strangle, he said, and had strangled to keep Kâli ma content. +That was necessary when you were born Her servant, especially when you +had children. Perhaps he had let the little Shelter of the World creep +too close to his heart, though he had striven to be just. At any rate +Kâli ma had become jealous. He had not known this, at first, or he +would never have given the mistress that promise about the Noose, for +if it had been in Harry-_sahib's_ hands Devi would never have sought +his life. She always protected those with the Noose--they never came +to harm--unless-- He had paused there, and then asked quickly if he +had not said enough? Did they want him to tell any more! He could not +give them the names of the victims, of course, not knowing them; but +they were many--very many. + +"There is nothing against him but his own story," said the magistrate, +fighting against his growing conviction that the man spoke truth. "I +can't commit him to the sessions on that." + +"There is something more, I think," replied the police-officer, +reluctantly. "Don't you remember that man who was found dead in a +railway carriage about this time last year? He had an up-country +ticket on him, and as this was out of the beat of Stranglers, no +inquiry was made here. It was just about this time, and--and Bisrâm +says he was in a hurry because the year was nearly up. He had been +nursing the boy." + +The boy's father, leaning with his head on his hand, groaned. + +But Bisra was quite cheerful. He looked a little anxious, however, +when two days after he was brought up formally to be committed for +trial. There was still nothing definite against him save his own +confession and the coincidence of the strangled man in the railway +carriage. But opinion was dead against him amongst his countrymen. Of +course he was one of Kâli's Stranglers. Did he not look one? Was he +not born one? So how could he help being one? The argument brought no +consolation to Sonny's father. But Bisrâm again was cheerful. He stood +patiently between two yellow-legged policemen and told his tale at +length, as if anxious to incriminate himself as much as possible, +anxious that there should be no mistake. And when all the mysterious +intricacies of charges and papers were over, and the two policemen +nudged him to make place for other criminals, with a friendly "Come +along, brother," he paused a moment with handcuffed, petitioning hands +to ask how soon he was to be hanged. + +The magistrate, leaning his head on his hand, made no answer. He knew +what the question meant, and could not. The thought of his little son +came between him and the truth; namely, that Bisra's sacrifice must +wait the law's pleasure. + +The doctor, too, in charge of the gaol where Bisra awaited trial, had +not the heart to tell the truth. Every day when on his rounds he +looked into the cell, like a wild beast's cage, where Bisra, being a +Strangler, and therefore dangerous to life, was confined alone, he +answered the question which the tall, naked figure stood up at his +entrance to ask in the same words. Harry-_sahib_ was better, and as +for the hanging, that would come soon enough, never fear. Yet every +day the pathetic, self-controlled eagerness on the man's face struck +him with a sense of physical pain, and left him helpless before his +own pity. + +Until a day came--after not many days--when with a face sad from the +sight of bitter grief that he _could_ understand, the sense of his +absolute helplessness before the mystery of this man's nature made the +doctor feel inclined to throw pity to the winds and fall back on sheer +common sense. After all the man was a murderer; and if he had been +fond of the child--what then? Such criminals were often men of strong +affections. + +Yet once again, the sight of the submissive, _salaaming_ figure, the +sound of the wistful yet calm voice made him answer as usual. The +child was better. The hanging would doubtless come ere long. + +For once, however, Bisrâm did not accept the reply as final. + +"The _Huzoor_ means that it will not come today?" he asked quietly. + +The doctor raised his eyebrows. "To-day? What made you think of +to-day? Certainly not. There's no chance of it." + +But he was wrong. Two hours afterwards the gaol overseer sent for him +in a hurry, because Bisrâm had completed his sacrifice by strangling +himself in his cell with his waistcloth. What else could he do, seeing +that it was the last day of the year during which the propitiation of +a sacrifice kept Kâli ma from revenge? + +"Poor devil!" said the doctor, as he stood up after his useless +examination. "I'm glad now I didn't tell him the child was dead." + + + + + THE HALL OF AUDIENCE + + +"This, gentlemen and respected sirs," said the blatant specimen of new +India whom my friend Robbins had insisted on having as a guide to a +ruined Rajput town, "is Hall of Common Audience, in more colloquial +phrase, Court of Justice, built two, ought, six before Christ B.C. by +Great Asoka, mighty monarch of then united Hindustan, full of Manu +wisdoms, and sacred Veda occultations--" + +Then I gave in. "For God's sake, Robbins," I said, "take away that +fool or I shall kill him. A man who be-plasters even the Deity with +university degrees is intolerable here." + +Robbins gave me that look of condoling forbearance which had nearly +driven me mad for a week and beguiled the _babee_ away promptly, as if +I had been a fractious child. I was, however, only a jilted man. A +badly jilted man, whose jilting was of the kind which becomes almost +comic from sheer excess of tragedy. To be brief, I had gone down on +ten days' leave to Bombay to meet and marry the girl to whom I had +been engaged for two years. Robbins, who was coming out in the same +ship with her, was to have been best man. We had certainly been in +love with each other when we last met; at least, if I was not, I have +never been in love at all. If she was not, then I have never seen a +girl in love. I wish to be absolutely fair in the matter, so I will +confess that, as I went to meet her, I knew myself to be less +emotional than I had been two years before. I had even vague qualms as +to whether this sort of thing was quite wise. I was, to put it curtly, +in the mental condition in which every man about to marry a _fiancée_ +whom he has not seen for two years must be. Presumably her mental +condition was similar. But whereas I had to spend the three weeks +preceding the irrevocable step in a jungle station where any novelty +must necessarily be attractive, she spent it in an environment which +gave her endless opportunities of seeing other men, and comparing them +with me, and her ideal. The result being that she found she was in +love with some one else. Being frank and honourable she told me the +truth, with a kind of blank dismay. She did not offer to fulfil her +engagement. How could she? when from the beginning to the end, from +her first confession that I was her ideal, to her last letter, then in +my breast pocket, the whole fabric of our future lives had been built +by us on our belief in the permanence of this selfsame love of ours. +We could only look in each other's eyes and wonder what was the matter +with the foundations of our round world. + +Robbins said I behaved splendidly. In truth I was too much stunned at +first to realise what it actually meant, and then a certain contempt +for them both, especially for the man who came and offered me a shot +at him, made me magnanimous. I merely offered in my turn to be best +man at the wedding, and was only deterred from doing so by the feeling +that it was theatrical, and by Robbins suggesting that I had better +have some ice on the back of my head. He meant well, did Robbins, and +insisted on accompanying me on what was to have been my wedding tour; +for I had my ten days' leave, and I was in no hurry to go back to the +gossiping little station where the bungalow I had furnished for her +lay waiting a mistress. + +Yes! Robbins meant well, and by sheer counter-irritation kept me +going. There was a honeymoon off the same ship which came up country +with us stage by stage, and the efforts Robbins made to prevent me +from seeing its bliss were pathetically comic. The bride and +bridegroom wore neat, new, brown-leather shoes, and she had a new +brown-leather handbag, just like one which I had carried for my +_fiancée_ before she explained the situation. As I sate opposite them +I wondered savagely if my face had worn the idiotic smirk of sheer +content visible on the man's, and I tucked my own new brown shoes +under the seat. They looked so forlorn beside Robbins' big boots. For +all that, I combated all condemnation of the delinquents for the first +three days. The only honourable theory of marriage being that based +upon a mutual and romantic love, it would be unjust because of a +single mistake, to blame any one for acting in accordance with a +belief which had made Englishmen and Englishwomen what, thank God, +they were. In fact I was badly, brutally moral, until, coming out into +the hotel verandah during one of our rests by the way, I happened on +the bride and bridegroom looking at the moon. + +Then the primeval desire to murder rose up, seized me, and held me. +Why hadn't I taken the scoundrel's offer and killed him? I was a good +shot; and Robbins, as an army doctor, an excellent second. Then I +could have married the bride-widow, or spurned her, as I preferred. + +There was really, I told myself, no logical foothold between this and +being best man. If marriage was an affair of love, these two were +right, and the part designed for me by Providence obviously that of +second fiddle. If not, they were wrong, and I had a right to claim +redress. To shilly-shally, feeling at once hurt and magnanimous, was +absurd. I had lain awake, afterwards, debating half in jest, half in +earnest, whether I should send Robbins back to the wedding with my +cartel, or go myself with a set of silver salt-cellars in a velvet +case. But underneath my jest and earnest lay a keen yet vague desire +to understand, to find some solid spot on which to rest. I had still +been debating the question, when, to please Robbins, who liked me to +have no time for thought, we had driven out next morning to these +ruins. The country through which we drove had been the ordinary +Rajputana country; flat--or nearly so--dry, rocky. Then we had come to +a spiky, spiny, roach-back hillock, over which the dead town sprawled, +half buried in its own dust, half lost in the sunshine. + +I had been watching Robbins' big boots all the way, so I was in a bad +temper. Apart from other causes, however, I had some excuse for +threatening to kill the guide. For the Hall of Audience to which we +had just climbed was, briefly, one of those places which make some +of us nineteenth-century folk remember the warning given long ago to +an eager reformer to take the shoes from off his feet, since the +ground whereon he stood had already been made holy by other hands than +his. Yet it was plain almost to bareness. Devoid utterly of any of +that ornamentation telling of human hopes and fears, likings, +dislikings, and ideals, which men all over the world strive wistfully, +hopelessly, to make permanent by carving them in stone. But it was a +miracle of light and shade, with its triple ranks of square stone +columns--rose-coloured in the sunshine about their feet, blood red in +the gloom of arches about their heads--standing like sentinels round a +Holy of Holies which was roofed only by the open sky, and floored +level to the marble pavement surrounding the still pool, with clear, +cool water. And through the outer arches, on all sides, showed that +indefinite glare, and dust, and haze, faintly yellow, faintly +purple--that burden and heat of the Eastern day in which millions are +born, and toil, and die--which seems to swallow up the real India and +hide so much of it from Western eyes. + +I had just got so far in my appreciation of the indefinable charm of +the place, when Robbins returned to stand beside me and look down on +the brimming water. + +"Curious!" he said, "at the top of a hill like this. I wonder what's +the reason of it?" + +"Those of uncultivated mind, sirs," replied New India, promptly, "hold +it by reason of Grace-of-God. We who through merciful master's aid +have acquired hydraulics prefer system of secret syphons; though the +latter belief is optional." + +"If that man remains here," I remarked aside to Robbins, "I refuse to +be held responsible for my actions. Take him away and see the rest of +the ruins. I am going to stop here--this is enough for me." + +They went off together, the guide babbling of modern equity. The last +words I heard were a quotation: "Boots not to say, O Justice! what +asperities have not been committed in Thy name!" + +Perhaps. No doubt dreadful things had been done even in this Hall of +Audience, though it lay very still now; very silent in the sunshine. + +I sate down on the base of a sentinel column and looked at the sky, +mirrored at my feet, wondering what other things the water had seen. + +So by degrees the question seemed to clamour at me. What had been done +there? What was it? What gave the place its charm for me? For it had a +charm, an infinite charm. + +I gave an impatient shrug of my shoulders at the sound of footsteps. +Robbins need not surely watch me as if he feared I might commit +suicide; though the water certainly looked inviting. But it was not +Robbins. It was an old man with a shaven head, and a very clean +saffron-coloured cloth, coming through the pillared ranks with a brass +_poojah_ basket like a big cruet-stand in his hand. My mind misgave me +instantly. He was far too clean for a real ascetic, and there was a +bogus air about him as of one expecting tourists and their alms. In +addition he came straight towards me, and squatting down by the edge, +within reach absolutely of my contaminating shadow, began to mutter +prayers. + +I rose disgusted; but my first movement showed me I was at any rate +partly mistaken, for he turned his head, startled at the sound. Then I +saw he could not have known I was there, for he was blind. I saw also +that the basket which he had set down contained nothing but the +star-like flowers of the wild jasmine. + +"Whom are you going to worship?" I asked instantly, for I was a +connoisseur in ceremonies, having spent years of study over the +ancient cults of India. + +He stood up instantly and salaamed, recognising the accent of the +master. "No one, _Huzoor_," he replied. "I am only going to make +Mother Âtma her crown." + +"Âtma!" I echoed. "Who was she?" + +A half-puzzled, half-cunning look came to his face. "It is a long +story, _Huzoor_; but if the Cherisher of the Poor will give his slave +a rupee--" + +Returning to my first impression of him, I was about to move away, +when he added plaintively: "I tell it better than the _baboo_, +_Huzoor_, but now-a-days he comes with the _sahibs_. So my stomach is +often empty. May God silence his tongue!" + +The desire pleased me. It matched my own. And as I paused, I noticed +that the old man, who had squatted down again, had begun to thread the +jasmine flowers on some link which was invisible from where I stood. + +"What are you using to thread the flowers?" I asked curiously. + +"A woman's hair, _Huzoor_. It is always the hair of a woman who has +died, but whose child has lived, that is used for Mai Âtma's crown. +Shall I tell the story, _Huzoor?_" + +"Was she beautiful?" I asked irrelevantly, why I know not. + +"I do not know, _Huzoor_," he replied. "Am I not blind?" + +The answer struck me as irrelevant also, but I went on idly, feeling, +in truth, but small interest in what I was convinced must be some +hackneyed tale I had heard a hundred times before, since I was given +to the hearing of tales. + +"Is it about this place?" I asked. + +He shook his head again. "I do not know, _Huzoor_. It is about Mai +Âtma. Shall I tell the story?" + +"You seem to know very little about the story, I must say. How do you +know it is about Âtma?" + +He smiled broadly. "It is about Mai Âtma, sure enough. The _Huzoor_ +will see that if he lets me tell the tale." + +I clinked a rupee down among the jasmine flowers and bid him fire +away, and be quick about it. + +He began instantly, plunging without any preface into a curiously +rhythmed chant, the very first line of which gave pathetic answer to +my irrelevant question, and at the same time showed the cause of the +old man's ignorance. It ran thus:-- + +"O world which she has left, forget not she was fair." + +Vain appeal when made in the oldest known form of Arya-Pali--the +dialect in which the edicts of Asoka are carved--and of which not one +man in ten million, even in India, knows the very existence. I +happened to be one of the few, and though at the time I could +naturally only gather the general outline of the chant, I subsequently +took it down word for word from the old man's lips. Some passages +still remain obscure; there are yawning gaps in the narrative, but +taking it all in all, it is a singularly clear bit of tradition, +preserved, as it were, by the complete ignorance of those who passed +the words from lip to lip. Roughly translated, it runs thus:-- + +"O world she left, forget not she was fair; so very fair. Her small +kind face so kind. Straight to the eyes it looked, then smiled or +frowned. About her slender throat were gold-blue stones. Gold at her +wrists; the gold hem of her gown slid like a snake along the marble +floor, coiled like a snake upon the water's edge. + +"By night she asked the stars, by day the sun, what they would have +her do. + + + "I was her servant sitting at her door, + Watching her small feet kiss the marble floor; + Reading the water mirror's heaven-learnt lore. + + +"O world she left, remember she was Queen! + +"For Âtma ruled a queen ere she was born, her widowed mother wasting +nine long months to give her life ere following the King. + + + "O Âtma mâta! strike thy servant blind, + He and his sons for ever, lest they find + Thy face within the crown their fingers bind. + + +"Hark! how her voice comes echoing through the Hall, 'Who hath a claim +to-day 'gainst me or mine?' (There was a dainty jewel at her breast, +kept time in sparkles to her lightest word.) + +"'Who hath a claim'--her small, kind face so wise! + + + "O Âtma mâta! strike thy servant blind, + He and his sons for ever!" + + + * * * * * + + +"See! how her soft feet kiss the marble floor! Âtma, the girl-queen, +dancing to herself, close to the pool; the jasmine in her hair falling +to fit the rhythm of her feet, and scent their warm life with the +scent of death, or sail away upon the water's breast like mirrored +stars. Oh, bind from them a crown; a crown for Âtma mâta, who is +kind--for Âtma, who hath struck her servant blind." + + + * * * * * + + +"Hark! how her voice comes whispering in my ear: 'I see naught but my +own face in the deep. No other face but this--my face alone. And there +are always stars about my head, or else the sun. Read me the riddle +quick.' (There was a tremor in her perfumed hair which matched the +tremor of her perfumed breath.) 'Âtma is queen,' I said; 'the stars, +the sun, weave crowns as I do. Wear them. Oh! my queen.' + + + "O Âtma mâta! rightly am I blind, + Blind was I then in heart and soul and mind. + + +"Hark! how her voice comes echoing through the Hall. (The cold blue +stones about her slender waist clipped all her purple robe to long +straight folds.) 'Go tell your masters, Âtma needs no King. She is the +Queen, her son shall be the King, and not the son to Kings of other +lands. So if they seek for beauty, seek not mine--it is not mine to +give--it is my son's! My son the gods will send me ere I die.' + + + "O Âtma mâta! strike thy servant blind, + He and his sons for ever, lest they find + Thy face within the crown their fingers bind. + + +"See! how her slim hand grasps the marble throne. See! how her firm +feet grip the marble step! Hark how her voice rings clear with angry +scorn. (There was a loose gold circlet on her wrist, slid to soft +resting as she raised her arm.) 'Oh! shame to brawl like dogs about a +bone! Cowards to kill because a woman's fair. Can they not take the +promise of a Queen? Go! bid your masters bind fair sons in peace. Âtma +will choose a father for her King--she needs no lover.' + + + "O Âtma mâta! strike thy servant dead. + + +"'Hush!'--just a whisper on the water's edge, a faint glow from the +sacred censer's fire. 'What dost thou see, my friend, down in the +deep? There in the circle of the sacred flowers?' (The incense cloud +rose white upon the dark, and hid us from each other, hid all things +save water and our hands--her hands in mine clasped in the cold clear +pool.) 'Naught, oh my Queen! Naught but thy face--thy face--beside +mine own.' (Cold was the water, cold her little hand, cold was her +voice.) 'Nay! more than that,' she said, 'thou dost forget the stars +about my head.' + + + "O Âtma mâta! strike thy servant blind, + For being blind in heart and soul and mind. + + +"Hark! how her voice goes echoing through the Hall. 'Go, bid your +masters sheathe their swords at once, nor spill men's blood because a +woman's fair. For I have chosen. I will wed with none, but since God +sends the children to the world and asks no questions how they come or +why, I will take him as father to my King. The law allows adoption; be +it so. From out God's children I have bought a son to be your King and +mine. Lo! here he stands.' (Her arm about the sturdy, dimpled limbs +drew the child closer to the cold blue stones clipping her purple robe +to long, straight folds.) 'Some woman bore him--fair and strong and +bold--bore him by God's decree to be a son. That is enough for me who +am your Queen. Go, tell the brawlers, Âtma hath her King.' (So +stooping, whispered softly to the boy, who straightway lisped to order +parrot-wise.) 'Who hath a claim to-day 'gainst me or mine? Who hath a +claim?' And as of old came answer: 'None, O King.' + + + "None said they all, and so I held my tongue. + O Âtma mâta! shall I ever find + Thy kind, wise face? Oh! wherefore am I blind? + + +"Hark! how her voice breaks in upon the child's. A claim at last. + + + "So they--these kings--have dared + To kill my people--nay! not mine--my son's! + Have they no shame--no pity for the poor? + + +"The gold hem round her robe's straight virgin folds coiled like a +snake asleep upon the floor, the sparkling jewel fastened on her +breast shone bright and steady as a distant star. + +"There was no tremor in her perfumed hair, there was no quiver in her +perfumed breath; the cold blue stones about her throat and waist, the +loose gold circlet on her slender wrist, the jasmine-blossom chaplet +in her hair, looked as though carved in stone, so still she stood +before the dead man on the marble floor. + +"His red blood crept in curves to find her feet and clasp them in a +claim for vengeance due, while those around cried 'Justice from the +King!' + +"Until she smiled--her small, kind face so wise, and her clear voice +came echoing through the Hall. 'Vengeance is mine,' she said, 'and not +the King's. Send forth no army, spill no blood for me. Search not the +water-mirror for a sign. I know the answer of the sun and stars. So +send our heralds out, and bid these Kings come as Kings should, and +not as murderers to plead their cause before the King, my son. Come +with all state as to a wedding feast, come with all hope as +bridegrooms to the bride. My son shall choose my lover, so prepare all +things in order--music, feasting, flowers.' (Then turned to where I +stood, and said aside: 'Forget not thou to make a jasmine crown.') + + + "O Âtma mâta! wherefore was I blind? + Did I not know how wise thou wert, how kind, + How cold thy hand, how warm the heart behind? + + +"Fair, strong, and bold he stood, the little King; the noonday sun +above the child's bare head scarce cast a shadow on his small, bare +feet, standing so straight beside the water's edge, where, half afloat +upon the clear, still depths, a small round raft of jasmine-blossoms +lay ready to give the omen. + +"Heaped so high, so piled with little scented stars, that I--her +servant with the crown she had bespoke--stood wondering what need +there was of all. And round about the mirror-pool in rank sat Âtma's +lovers waiting the decree. + +"Till suddenly the baby raised his hand. (There was a loose gold +circlet on his wrist, which smote him on the breast as it fell back, +making him wince, so all too large it was.) But the child bit his +lip and took no heed, knowing his kingly part right royally; so, +parrot-wise, he lisped the ordered words: 'My mother Âtma hath no need +for love; since she hath mine. She hath no need, my lords, for you as +lovers, but she sends by me, as sister sends her brothers, that which +sure should heal the strife and make you brothers too.' + +"So at the last he stooped, and with a push sent the flower-raft +afloat upon the pool, dipping and dancing on the waves it made, so +that the loose, white blossoms of the pile floated to drift like stars +upon the depths, leaving what lay beneath them clear and cold. + + + "O Âtma mâta! why was I not blind? + Thy face, thy face was there in flowers enshrined! + Thy cold dead face, with cold dead flowers entwined. + + * * * * * + + "O world she left! to bring it peace not war. + O world she left, forget not she was fair, + So very fair. The jasmine in her hair + And round her kind, wise face; about her throat + The cold blue stones, and for her queenly crown + The sunlight in the water--like the stars. + + "O Âtma mâta! strike thy servant blind, + He and his sons for ever, lest they find + Thy face within the wreath their fingers bind." + + * * * * * + +The old man's song ceased, but he went on without a pause. "The +_Huzoor_ will hear that it is all about Âtma. Her name is there +always." + +He had finished stringing the flowers also, and now with a deft hand +set the fragile garland--strung like a daisy chain upon a dead woman's +hair and then tied to a circle--afloat upon the water, where it +drifted idly, each separate flower separate, and keeping its appointed +place. + +A crown of scented stars! + +I roused myself to answer. "Undoubtedly it is all about Âtma; but you +have not told me why you weave the crown?" + +"It is always woven, _Huzoor_," he replied. "Our family belongs to the +place, and as one son is always blind, he stays at home--since he +cannot earn money at other trades, _Huzoor_--and makes Mai Âtma's +crown as his fathers did." + +"One son is always blind?" I echoed curiously. + +"Always, _Huzoor_. It is ever so. One is blind in each generation, so +he makes Mai Âtma's crown." + +_He and his sons for ever!_ a strange coincidence truly. + +"Then no one has ever seen her face 'within the wreath their fingers +twine'?" I asked, quoting the words involuntarily and forgetting that +he could not understand them. He answered the first part of the +sentence. + +"How could that be, _Huzoor_, seeing we are always blind?" + +True. But if one was not blind? My thought was interrupted by Robbins' +voice from behind. + +"Hope you haven't found it long, old chap; but the _baboo_ really +knows a lot about Asoka. Fine old beggar he must have been. And then +he has got a chant about some female called Âtma who had a lot of +lovers, don't you know." Robbins pulled himself up hastily, and, to +cover his confusion, protested that it was just the sort of +unintelligible gibberish which interested me, and thereupon bade the +_baboo_ give me a specimen. + +Before I could stop him, the brute had got well into the first line; +but even in my wrath I was relieved to find that it was indeed +absolutely unintelligible. New India evidently did not understand the +old. I came to this conclusion before I got my fingers, as gently as I +could, inside his rainbow-hued comforter and choked him off. + +"I cannot help it, Robbins," I said as I tendered the _baboo_ five +rupees as hush-money. "If you knew all you would excuse me." + +Robbins gave me one of his most sympathetic looks and said he quite +understood. + +Did he? Did I? I asked myself that question over and over again, until +in the dead of the night I could ask it no longer. The desire for an +answer grew too strong. + +It was still night when I stood once more beside the water's edge. The +moon had paled the red ranks of the sentinel pillars, the dust and +heat and burden of the day was gone. All things were clear and flooded +with cool, quiet, passionless light. And on the water lay the crown of +starry flowers. It had drifted close to the edge, at the extreme end +of the pool, beside a square projection in the marble floor, whence +you could look clear into the depths. No doubt the place of +divination. I went over to it moved by an irresistible impulse, and, +kneeling down, thrust my hand into the cool water. + +Was it fancy, or did I feel a cold, soft hand in mine? Was it a +passing dizziness, or did a white, scented vapour close round me like +a cloud, hiding all things save the water framed in that crown of +jasmine? + +_Âtma! Mai Âtma!!_ + + + * * * * * + + +There was no need so far as I am concerned for the appeal-- + + + "Forget not she was fair." + + +I have never forgotten it, though it is years since I saw, or fancied +I saw, her face in the water. + +But I have forgotten other things. Indeed, I forgot them so speedily +that I saw poor old Robbins was quite puzzled and hurt in his +feelings. So, before my wedding tour came to an end, I thought it +kinder to give him something definite as an excuse for my +cheerfulness. I told him, therefore, that I had fallen in love with +some one else. + +He gave a low whistle, said, "By Jove!" then added heartily, "Upon my +soul, old chap, I believe it's the wisest thing you can do." + +Perhaps it was. But I am not yet married. I am waiting for a woman who +does not want a lover. + + + + + IN A FOG + + +A great flock of fleecy white clouds were browsing up the steep +hillside like sheep, and hiding part of the great map of India which +lay spread out five thousand feet below one of the isolated peaks +which rise, in sheer masses of granite, from the dusty deserts of +Rajputana. + +Even to their dustiness, however, had come a faint tinting of green, +since the seasonal rains had begun. For the moment, nevertheless, the +incessant deluge had ceased, giving place to one of those brilliantly +fine monsoon days--fine with the fineness of gentian skies, and +snowdrift clouds, which remind Indian exiles of the cold, crisp North. + +But already these same clouds were losing their lightness and +beginning to sink earthwards; sure sign that the break in the rains +was at an end. Still here, in the little station beside the lake, +which looks as if the least tilt would make it brim over and send it +rolling like quicksilver to the sun-dry plains below, the sky was all +the clearer because of the steady increase of those fleecy flocks +among the glens and ravines which spread outwards, downwards, +ray-like, star-shaped, from the summit. + +The increase was so steady that, after a time, the flocks coalesced, +and the likeness passed into that of a rolling sea, through whose +waves the knolls and peaks rose like islands; until the whole scene, +lake and all, showed as a clustered coral reef shows in the Pacific +Ocean--still, dream-like, peaceful utterly. + +There was no peace, however, on the face of the Englishman in undress +uniform who was sitting at an office table in the verandah of a +thatched bungalow, which, fenced in perfunctorily from a sheer +precipice on three sides by a frail trellis of bamboo solidified by +morning glories, was perched above the now unseen levels below. + +"If I could get reliable information," he muttered irritably, "I could +be prepared. But I can hear nothing of the relief columns, and it is +quite impossible for me to predicate the movements of the mutineers; +yet without this it is difficult to know how to receive them." + +His voice rose as he went on, for a yawn and a stir from a +lounge-chair set in the shade, told him he had a listener. + +"Not the laste bit in loife, me dear bhoy," came with the yawn. "Sure +we've got to kill them somehow." + +The first speaker looked up angrily from the map he was studying. + +"Perhaps if I were only directly responsible for fifteen +convalescents, as you are, Tiernay, I should be content to--to be in a +fog. But I am the Brigade Major, and in the absence on duty of the +commanding officer, and, I regret to say, all but a mere handful of +native troops, I am responsible for the safety of a hundred and +thirty-five helpless women and children--their lives and deaths--" + +He was interrupted by the mixed sound of a laugh and the finishing of +some brandy and water over which Dr. Tiernay had evidently been +snoozing. + +"Divvle a bit. Loife and death's my business from wan year's end to +the other. There's responsibility for yez. And I kill as many as I +cure, as all we pill-boxes do. Sure we haven't a fair chance, for a +man keeps well without a doctor. It's when he thinks of dyin' he comes +to us--an' nine toimes out of ten we can't help him. For talk of bein' +in a fog! Be jabers! it's nothing to the British Pharmacop[oe]ia. When +I write a prescription I always put D.V., weather permitting, at the +tail of it." + +The Brigade Major looked at the dishevelled, lazy figure, so different +from his own, distastefully. + +"Well, I prefer a clearer conception of my line of treatment. Now if +this portion of the rebels, which, there seems little doubt, are +making for us here"--his finger followed a red line he had marked, +"elect to proceed--" + +"Elect, is it?" interrupted the doctor. "Sure they won't elect to do +anything. It will come to them widout their knowing how, like fayver +or catarrh. An' it's no manner of use beginning to physic a patient +till ye know what disease fancies him. So lave off wid worrying, me +dear bhoy, and just get out the salts and senna--" + +"Salts and senna!" echoed the Brigade Major, angrily. "Really, +Tiernay, considering you are the only other man in the place--for I +don't count your miserable convalescents, of course, and my handful of +natives is more an anxiety than a help--I do think you might talk +sense." + +Dr. Tiernay rose, yawned, and walked over to the office table, a tall, +lank figure with a reckless, whimsical face, alert now to the +uttermost. + +"An' isn't it sinse? Salts and senna is what's generally wanted to +begin with. Well, I've collected every lethal weapon I can lay hands +on, including the dintistry case and the horse-pistols with which me +grand-uncle, Macturk of Turksville, shot his wife's brother; so me +salts and senna's ready. And, by the Lord, I'll exhibit it too whin +the patient comes along--trust Micky Tiernay for that. But till he +does"--here his face took a sudden, almost serious gravity--"ah, just +quit cultivating omniscience, and lave the fog alone. Sure only the +divvle himself could say what the blackguards will do." + +"But Hoshyari Mul, the banker, thinks--" + +"Is it that fat, oily brute? Oh, don't belave him. Don't belave what +anybody says. They don't know--not even what they'll be at themselves +if the mutineers _do_ come. There's only wan thing certain--there's +but wan straight road from Nusseerabad up the hill to us. That's the +tail end of it yonder through the break in the mist. Oh, I've been +kaping an eye on it, I tell yez, even in my sleep. Well, if they come, +they'll come that way." + +"But Koomar the priest--" + +Dr. Tiernay looked across the placid, still sunbright levels of the +little lake, at the wonderful Jain temples which made this hilltop one +of the holiest spots in all India, and shook his head. + +"Don't trust him either, for all his white robes and his piety. He +means well; but he's more in a fog than we are, for we know that we +don't want the mutineers to come, and he isn't sure. How can he be? +I'd just throuble ye to imagine his mental position--if ye can." + +So saying, he took up his battered helmet, which looked as if some one +had been playing football with it, and strolled over to the hospital. +It was perched on another knoll close by, yet the mist now lay almost +level between it and him; for the curved waves had given place, like +the fleecy flocks, to a new formation of fog. This, far as the eye +could see, was a flat plain of cotton-wool, white, luminous, on which +the knolls, the temples, the glittering lake, showed like jewels. + +He dipped into the cotton-wool as it lay soft in the hollow, and out +of it again ere entering the hospital verandah, where a man in the +loose uniform of a dresser rose from his task of polishing a pair of +horse-pistols and saluted; a trifle unsteadily, for he, though the +best of the bunch of convalescents, was somewhat of a cripple. Had he +not been so, he would not have been left behind when every man who +could hold a rifle tramped down the hill to do the work that had to be +done in the plains, if not only Englishwomen, but England herself was +to be saved. + +"Parade will be a bit short to-day, sir," he said, with cheerful +regret, "for Corporal Flanagan 'e 'ave 'ad to 'ave a hemetic, sir, and +the fly-blister on Private MacTartan's chest is has big has a +hostrich's hegg." + +"Dear, dee-ar," commented the doctor in long-drawn sympathy, +as he passed into where a dozen or more of men in grey flannel +dressing-gowns were lounging about in their cots or out of them. They +were an unshaven, haggard-looking lot, though one or two were +beginning to show that air of alertness which tells that soul and body +are coming back to the bustle of life. + +One or two, again, lay cuddled into their pallets with that other +hospital expression--impatient patience. + +Most, however, were between these two extremes, and one of them asked +eagerly: "Any news of the brutes to-day, sir? It would be just my luck +when I'm down with another bad turn." + +"Bad turn go to blazes," retorted Dr. Tiernay, with a reassuring +smile. "News of the varmint would have more therapeutic power than +every drug I possess, an' a galvanic batthery wouldn't be in it wid +the first shot. Faix even if I'd killed ye, ye'd do old Lazarus to +spite me. Oh, Flanagan, there ye are. A bit white about the gills, me +bhoy, but it's a foine thing to be in light inarching order. An' as +for you, MacTartan, sure you've the illigantest protective pad evver a +man wore above his heart. Is there any more of you would like wan?" + +Yet as he made merry, the doctor's eye had wandered to where the tail +end of the upward road had shown more than once for a second, between +a rift in the wet blanket; for that only connection between mutiny and +helplessness climbed the hill perilously along a steep funnel-shaped +ravine, up which the draught, caused by the cool air above the hot air +below, swept like a chimney driving the fog before it. + +There was nothing to be seen, however, not even a rift or break; so he +went on to dress the leg of a cripple on crutches. He was in the +middle of bandaging it when an excited voice called him by name from +the verandah, and he rushed out, bandage and all, so that his patient +remained attached to him by a fluttering ribbon of linen. + +He found the Brigade Major on his pony. There was news at last. The +mutineers were coming, but not by the road. They had been seen on the +old footpath to the north--they evidently meant to steal a march in +the rear. + +"What made ye come and tell?" asked the doctor suddenly in Hindustani +to the naked figure which had brought the news. It was that of a Jain +ascetic with a muslin cloth bound about his mouth, so as to prevent +the destruction even of the unseen life around him. + +The set brown sanctity of his face wavered. "They come to kill--and I +kill nothing." + +Dr. Tiernay turned on his heel and faced the man on crutches (who, +after vainly begging to be told what was happening, had come crawling +on all-fours like a dog to the verandah), and began as it were to haul +him in by rolling up the bandage. "Who the divvle tould ye to move, +Tompkins?" he said; "come in at wanst and let me finish me job." + +"But, doctor," protested the Brigade Major. + +The doctor swung round again at the appeal. + +"Don't believe his saintship. Don't, for God's sake. If it's killing +he objects to, sure isn't he helping us to kill them? That sort of +thing doesn't work. See you--he says there are five hundred of them. +Sainted Cecilia! if that's so, an' they mean to come and kill us, why +come up the back stairs?" + +"But he says,--and Koomar also, and even Hoshiari Mul--" + +"Well, I'd rather trust the fat little banker if it comes to +trustin'," interrupted the doctor, "for, see you, I owe him money, and +if I'm killed he won't get it. But if I were you I'd trust none of +them. Even Hoshiar, compound interest at a hundred and fifty per cent. +to boot, does not know what he'll be at, so take my advice and sit +tight where ye are." + +The Brigade Major did, very tight and square on his pony. + +"I'm sorry you don't agree with me, Dr. Tiernay," he said stiffly, +"and, of course, being in independent medical charge of this +convalescent depot, you can remain behind if you choose. Indeed I +think it would, in a way, be wiser, since your fellows would be of +little use." + +Dr. Tiernay looked round on the contingent of crippledom which had +crowded and crawled to the verandah to listen. "Faix," he said, "their +hearts are whole, anyhow, an' that's half the battle. But what's your +plan?" + +"I have thought out this eventuality before, and am certain that our +defence must be at the defile--you know--about four miles from here. I +shall take every soul I can--it's better to give every one something +to do." + +The doctor nodded. "That's sound, anyhow. Satan finds--then I'll stay +here." + +"If--I fail--you will do what you can for the women and children--I +shan't give the alarm now; so--so you might tell my wife by-and-by--if +necessary." + +Mike Tiernay walked back and patted the pony's neck. + +"I'll tell her. And ye may be right--ye can't tell--it's just a fog. +Anyhow, the cripples will do what they can for the ladies and the +babies--though wanst those murderin' villains set foot on the summit, +it's all up--so--so--I'll keep an eye on the road for ye. Well, +good-by, me dear bhoy, and good luck to ye." + +The sun, that was still shining brightly above the mists, shone on the +men's clasped hands for a moment. + +After that, Dr. Tiernay finished Tompkins' leg. + +It was rather a long job, as it had to be done all over again. Then +there were minor hurts to arms and hands, so that an hour must have +passed before the doctor, wiping his hands with the curiously minute +care of the surgeon who knows what risks he runs, suddenly dropped the +towel and said-- + +"Sainted Sister Anne! they're coming." + +Yes. The rift for which he had been watching with the carelessness +which comes with custom, had showed that tail end of the road for a +moment, and showed something on it--a trail of men and horses, a +flashing of bayonets and spear-points. + +Ten minutes after the man on crutches was the only one left in the +hospital, and he was sitting on the edge of his cot sobbing like a +child disappointed of his holiday; but Mike Tiernay had left him the +horse-pistols by way of consolation, with instructions to hold the +fort as long as he could, and prevent the damned rascals from touching +even the drugs. + +"Ye'll have the best of it after all, I tell ye," had been the +doctor's farewell, "for sure ye'll be sitting at your ease shootin' +straight long after we've been silenced; and a last shot is always a +last shot." He was wondering what his would be as he led his company +of cripples through the hollow of mist which lay between the hospital +and the head of that road whose tail had shown the upward gleam of +bayonets. + +As yet, however, everything was peaceful. The lake, the temples, the +isolated houses set on their knolls, even the lower cluster of the +bazaar were all bathed in sunshine, with the curious, translucent +brilliance which only Indian sunshine can give. Only between them, +clinging to every hollow, lay the thick, luminous white fog. + +Mike Tiernay took off his helmet, wiped his forehead, and looked +around. + +"It's no good in life making the poor things anxious," he muttered to +himself, "an' if we can keep the divvles at bay _he_ will be back to +tell his own story. But I'll just give a look round to hearten them +up; there's plenty of time, for I can catch up the cripples in a +jiffy." So, bidding his men march slowly down the road (saving +themselves as much as possible, since their work would be cut out for +them afterwards) until he rejoined them, he set off with swinging +strides to the semi-fortified houses, in which, more for the name of +safety than for the hope of it, the helpless women and children had +been gathered during the last few days. + +"Any news, doctor?" asked the Brigade Major's wife, coming out to meet +him, her six months' baby in her arms. "Dick isn't back from office +yet, and it's such weary work, waiting, waiting." + +Dr. Tiernay bent rather abruptly to look at the fretful child, which +was teething badly. One or two other women, pale-faced, anxious, their +little ones clinging round them, had gathered to listen, and he spoke +as it were to all. + +"Well, it can't be long now, any more than it can't be long before +Dick comes back, or before that troublesome eye-tooth comes through. +If all goes well, me dear madam, all the worry will be over by +tomorrow." + +"And if it isn't you will come with your lancet, won't you?" asked the +mother, pleadingly. + +Dr. Tiernay frowned portentously. "It's against me principles, +madam--but I'll use--well, some kind of lethal weapon, I promise you. +An' tell your husband, when ye see him, that my cripples did as well +as could be expected, considering the fog." + +"Did as well?" she asked. "What have they done?" + +"Gone for their first walk down the road," he replied, with a cheerful +laugh, "an' I must be affther them to stop them from overtiring +themselves. So good-by. Dick'll maybe bring good news." + +"How cheerful he is always," said one pale-faced mother to another. "I +always feel safer when I've seen him; and, you know, he can't really +think there is any immediate danger or he wouldn't have talked of +coming to lance the baby's gums, would he?" + +Whatever Dr. Tiernay might have _thought_, he was by this time +beginning to realise that in the fog it was impossible to _know_ +anything--even the positions of his own cripples. "Are ye all there, +wid as many legs an' arms as ye have whole?" he called, after he had +given the order for them to fall in; "for, by the Lord that made me, I +must take ye on trust; ye might be anybody." He paused; his eyes lit +up suddenly; he gave a wild hooroosh. + +"I have it, men; let's play the fog on the divvies, an' be damned to +them. They can't see us, so let's take them in flank at the zig-zag. +Smith, out wid yur engineer's eye an' tell me what's the length of the +zig-zag--wan zig of it, I mane." + +Smith, in the fog, thought a moment or two. "Close on a mile, sir, +more or less, and there's four of them." + +"Say three-quarters, and we are fifteen; no, it's fourteen, for we had +to leave poor Tompkins wid his crutches an' the horse-pistols. +Tompkins absent." + +"Beg pardin', sir," came a voice from the fog; "Tompkins present. Come +a all-fours down the short cut quite easy." + +"Fifteen," corrected the doctor, calmly, "fifteen into twelve hundred +yards. Faix, it'll have to be open order."--He paused for an odd catch +in his breath, something between a laugh and a sob. "See here, ye +gomerauns--English, Irish, Scotch, whatever ye are--that's our game. +We're not fifteen; we're fifteen hundred." + +The cripples out of the fog broke into a faint cheer. + +"You've got it, Mick Tiernay!" they assented wildly. "You've got it, +doctor dear! The fog's our game." + +"We're fifteen hundred strong, an' we're each of us a hundred men an' +two officers," called the doctor back. "Now, d'ye understand, men? +open order it is--wan hundred yards or thereabouts, at the top +zig-zag, and chargin' down on the divvies in flank--an' the gift of +tongues--an' Donnybrook Fair--Hooroosh, Pat! come on, lads." + +The next moment, hirpling, hobbling, unseen even of each other until +sometimes a jostle would bring a low-toned witticism--"Now, then, +Cap'n, keep your regiment orf mine, will ye?" or, "I'll throuble you, +sorr, to respect me formation!"--the men were making their way, fast +as crippledom would let them, towards their forlorn hope. And despite +the witticisms, their haggard lean faces, hidden, like all else, in +the fog, were stern and strained. Men's faces are so, when each man +has to find place in his body for a hundred souls. + +"Quiet's the word. Let them come on almost to the turn," was the +doctor's last injunction as he posted his men; the strongest at the +narrowest end of the zig-zag because they would the soonest come upon +the enemy, and so on in varying gradations of convalescence, till the +line of the supposed battalion stopped at the widest end with +Tompkins, who was given as much ammunition as they could spare, and +told to fire freely, regardlessly. + +The doctor himself, with MacTartan close beside him ("so as," he said, +"to increase the illushion"), were at the extreme angle. The unseen +road lay below them, not fifty yards off, and below that again, the +doctor knew, was an almost precipitous grass slope down to the next +zig. + +"We must start them on that short cut, if we can," he said to his +supporter, "an' if we do, they'll rowl and rowl and rowl to perdition, +please the Lord!" So they waited, the jest forgotten in earnest. + +Then suddenly through the fog came a jingle. + +"Tenshion, B Company," whispered the man who had had a bad turn (his +name was Brown) to himself, and steadied his shaking hands on his +musket as he listened. Another jingle. A sound of voices first; then, +as suddenly as the jingle had come, came a thud of many feet. + +_Thud, thud, thud_. + +Then all along the hillside, all along that three-quarters of a mile +or more, a volley--not of rifles, but orders--orders familiar to those +below, and suggestive of colonels and majors, regiments and wings, and +companies. Finally, at the narrowest end, a call to fire and charge; a +reckless volley into the fog, and then two reckless figures flinging +themselves into the uttermost void, God knows how, God knows where, +save that it was downwards on that climbing foe. + +MacTartan first; remembering his Highland corries and half bursting +his lungs in his effort to give the Highland yell of a whole regiment. +Yet beneath the grim joke a grimmer earnest lay, as in the fog he and +his bayonet found something. + +"Hech, now! Is that you?" he said grimly, and the something was a man +no more! + +"Steady, men. Follow me!" shouted Dr. Tiernay. Once more the mist +produced something, and two men in deadly earnest hacked at each other +with swords. + +"Go on, brothers! run! they are behind us! run! Go back, brothers! +they are ahead!" came the cry. And above it rose those orders. From +close at hand a dropping fire; and from the far end--Tompkins' end-- +quite a respectable volley. + +"Come on! come on! and let them have the bayonet!" shouted the doctor +again; and with the shout one or two more men grew to sight from the +mist upon one side of the climbing road. But the men who had been on +the road first were disappearing into the fog on the other side; +disappearing down the grass slope to the next zag. Only at the turn +where the doctor and MacTartan fought side by side, the difficulty of +escape made resistance fierce from a knot of troopers, till, with a +curse, MacTartan caught one horse by the bridle, and deliberately +backed it over the edge; but not before, in his desperate effort to be +strong as he once had been, he had stumbled and fallen before the +flash of a sabre that passed in mad flight downwards. "Gorsh me, I've +spoilt myself," he murmured sadly, as he rose with difficulty. + +"What is it, man? Are you wounded?" cried the doctor, rushing up. + +"Bruk me blister, sir," replied MacTartan, stolidly, reaching for his +bayonet and going on. + +That upper zig-zag was clear now; but below in the fog lay another, +and another, and another, where the fugitives might be caught. So the +battalion charged again and again, while Tompkins coming down quite +easily, "a all-fours," fired volleys steadily. + +The jest and the earnest of it, what pen can tell? + +Till through the fog rang a faint hurrah. The last of the zig-zags had +blindly been reached, and neither far nor near upon the hillside down +which the battalion had charged in open order, was foe--not to be +seen, but felt! The uttermost void was void indeed. + +"We've got no dooleys, men," said Dr. Tiernay, wiping his forehead +once more, "so the wounded must crawl back to hospital as best they +can." + +So they crawled. All but Tompkins; the doctor insisted upon carrying +him pick-a-back, on the ground that he, the doctor, was the only whole +man in the battalion, and was bound to do double work. + +And the next morning, when he went his rounds, he stood for a minute +or two beside a fretful baby, and then took out his lancet. + +"It's against me principles, me dear madam," he said, with a shrug of +his shoulders; "for there's a toime for everything, and everything in +its toime; and no one, not even a tooth, knows what it would be at +till that toime comes. But as I said the throuble would be over, and +the rest of it is;--why, I'll keep my word!" + +And it was over; for a message saying he was close on the heels of his +messenger came from the general in command of relief. + +The fog had lifted by this time, lifted for steady rain; so the +English troops coming up found the foes more easily than the battalion +had done. But the foes were dead. Those random shots, those reckless +charges from nothingness to nothingness had done some work. + +And part of it was on the naked body of a Jain ascetic, with a bit of +muslin swathed about his mouth, lest, inadvertently, he should bring +death to the smallest of God's creatures. + + + + + GOLD, FRANKINCENSE, AND + MYRRH + + +"Oh! Mummy," said the Boy, as his mother slipped a sort of nightgown +over his trim little khaki uniform, "I think it'sh shkittles!" + +Boy's invariable dissent--picked up about the barracks of an Indian +cantonment--was applied in this instance both to the angelic robe +represented by the nightgown, and the angelic part the child was to +play in it. + +For it was Christmas Eve, and the vague desire for peace and goodwill +which, even in these latter days, comes with Christmas-tide, had made +the English aliens in the station devise a Tree for those still +greater aliens--the Boer prisoners--who lived among them in the +strange spider's web of barbed wire, which to the casual eye seemed so +inefficient a prison for enemies who had defied capture so long, so +bravely. + +It was Boy's mother who had started the idea. She was one of those +women, lovable utterly, not always reasonable, who find solace in +dramatising their own sorrows. So when, two years before, her husband, +commanding a native cavalry regiment still quartered in the station, +had been ordered to Africa on Staff duty, she had remained on in the +big house, sharing it with a friend, and continuing religiously to +care for all things for which her absent soldier had cared--even for +the regiment which was still so proud of its Colonel at the front. + +It was a heartrending solace, indeed, to see the native officers and +men, when they inquired for the latest news, salute Boy as solemnly as +they would have saluted his father; and it pleased her to perceive +that the only regard these warriors had for _her_ was as guardian of +their Sahib's honour and of his only son; for the wellbeing of which +things they were fiercely jealous. + +To this woman, militant to the heart's core yet sentimentally pitiful, +it had seemed appropriate that Boy--son of the only fighting father in +the station--should play the part of the "_Christ-kind_," the Bringer +of good gifts at the Christmas-tree. There was no geographical or +ethnological reason why this German custom should obtain among the +Boers, but Boy's mother had recollections of school-days abroad, and +thought that her little son, with his aureole of red hair and grave +baby face, so like the absent hero, would look sweet in the part. + +"It isn't skittles at all, Boy," she said softly. "Remember what I +told you about loving your enemies." + +"I'd wather fight 'em, like Daddy," replied Boy, drawing from its +scabbard the miniature sword of strict regimental pattern which--it +being a new toy--he had refused to lay aside even for angelic robings. + +"But it is Christmas," persisted his mother. "Remember what I told you +about it--about the angels, and the peace, and goodwill." + +"I shink Chrishmus shkittles, too." + +"Quite right, youngster! It _is_ skittles in India," put in a tall +man, who, farther down the verandah, was watching a woman's fingers +busy themselves over church decorations. + +His rather reckless expression changed as, stooping to select a +brilliant branch of scarlet-fingered poinsettia from the confused heap +of flowers and greenery at their feet, he handed it to his companion, +and she looked up to thank him with her eyes. + +Boy's mother, who had glanced towards them at the interrupting voice, +paused over the angelic robe, uneasily silent. + +"I wish I had something white, beside the roses," remarked the +cross-maker a trifle hurriedly. "They don't look a bit Christmassy." + +"Lilies?" suggested the man. + +She shook her head. "Lilies don't suit the climate; there aren't +any--_here_." + +He stooped and spoke lower. "Yes! it's a God-forsaken spot all +round--for _you_. But, look here! I saw a _dhatura_ actually in +blossom to-day--close to my bungalow. It's not unlike a lily--as +white, anyhow--and sweeter. They use it in their temples--so why not +in church? It doesn't do to be too particular--when you want +anything." + +She shook her head again. "It's poisonous--besides, it doesn't do--to +leave the beaten path." + +"Try!" + +There was a pause; for the undercurrent, which had seemed to sweep +each trivial word to another meaning, seemed suddenly to sweep this +man and woman within touch--dangerous touch--of each other. + +"What _are_ you two talking about?" asked Boy's mother, coming towards +them. "What a lovely cross, Muriel! And why, please, should Christmas +in India be skittles, Colonel Gould?" + +He laughed. "How stern you look! I wish I could get that righteous +indignation up for orderly room. I need it!" + +"My husband never found the regiment difficult to manage," interrupted +the wife of its absent commander jealously. + +"Nor do I," retorted its present head, "but--" he paused, not caring +to explain that he, an outsider sent but lately to drill a corps back +to the discipline it had lost after her husband's departure, had +naturally a very different task. + +"Hullo, Boy!" he said, to change the subject, "that is a jolly little +sword! Who gave it you?" + +"Hirabul Khan gaved it me," replied the child. "When I'm Colonel, +he'sh going to be my risshildar, 'cos you shee he was my Daddy's +orderly first, an' then Daddy made him--oh, lotsh of fings." + +"He'll have to look out if he doesn't want to lose some things," said +Colonel Gould, sharply; then answering a vexed look of Boy's mother, +continued: "He was a _protégé_ of your husband's, I know--but he +really has wind in his head. For his own sake it must be got out. I +put him under arrest to-day, and told him squarely I'd have to block +his promotion." + +"What had he done?" She spoke quite fiercely. + +"Cheek, as usual. It was over that escape from the camp. Haven't you +heard? Viljeon, that cantankerous brute who gives so much trouble, +managed to get out again last night. I wish it had been any one +else--for he's half mad and dangerous. I'm glad the General has +ordered the search-party to shoot at sight if he offers resistance." + +Boy, in his white robe, his toy sword in his hand still, nodded his +red aureole sagely. + +"The Tommies down at the camp told _me_. He'sh just an awful brute, +Vile John is. He is goin' to kill all the little English children he +meets, 'cos--'cos they killed his: but that's a damned lie." + +The calm deliberation of the last was so evidently imitative that +Boy's mother smiled, despite a sudden pain at her heart. + +"They died, dear, and so you must be very sorry for him. Think how sad +I should be if--" The thought produced a sudden caress, a sudden +glisten in her grey eyes. "Now, Boy of mine, let me take that thing +off. Then you must go and lie down and sleep, for you'll have to keep +wide awake half the night." + +"Take care of my shword, Mummy, please!" said Boy, superbly, as, in +unrobing, he shifted it from one hand to the other; "it's most +dweadful sharp!" + +"By George, it is," remarked Colonel Gould; "a trifle too sharp for +safety." + +"Is it?" said Boy's mother, anxiously. "Hirabul ought not--" + +"It wasn't Hira," interrupted Boy. "It was Kunder sharped it, so as I +could kill Vile John if I met him, like as my Daddy done over in +Africa. Didn't you, Kunder?" + +A figure squatting in a far corner rose and salaamed. + +"The _Huzoor_ speaks truth." + +The speaker was an old man, slender, upright, unusually dark-skinned; +this latter fact made his bare limbs look curiously youthful and +lissom. + +"Done it uncommonly well, too," assented Colonel Gould, feeling the +edge. "Where did you learn the trick?" + +"Your slave was once sword-sharpener by trade," was the submissive +reply. + +"Kunder'sh an awful clever chap," said Boy, loquaciously. "He can +make--oh! all sorts of fings as deads people--bows and stwangles, you +know--can't you, Kunder?" + +The man salaamed, with a watchful look at his other hearers. + +"And," continued Boy, in vicarious boasting, "he can do all sorts of +dweadful fings, too! He can steal people's purses when they'se +sleepin', an' make dicky-birds tumble off bwanches, an' little boys +like me wake never no more--can't you, Kunder?" + +Submissiveness grew crafty. "This slave has certainly told such tales +to the children-people." + +"Looks scoundrel enough," remarked Colonel Gould, carelessly. "Where +did you pick him up?" + +"Oh! he isn't _my_ servant," replied Boy's mother. "He is Muriel's. I +can't think why she keeps him." + +The cross-maker rose and held her work at arm's length. "Does any one +really know why they do anything?" she asked. "Perhaps, as you say, he +will steal my jewels some day--or murder me. But, as Boy says, he's +awful clever, and one must be amused! Now I must go and put this up. +Will you drive me to the church, Colonel Gould?" + +"Better come in the victoria with me," said Boy's mother, hastily; "it +is going to rain." This other woman, this childless wife with an +unspeakable husband, must be guarded from herself. + +"I don't think so," put in the Colonel, firmly. "Kunder! call my +dogcart, and we can go round by my bungalow and pick the _dhatura_." + +Kunder, passing on his errand, looked up curiously at the last word. + +Colonel Gould gave back the look. "Queer customer! Shouldn't wonder if +he's a Thug--they use _dhatura_ poison to stupefy their victims, you +know." + +He spoke carelessly as they stood looking out at the bare patch of +parched ground called by courtesy a garden. The lowering sky, of an +even purplish grey, was so dark that the level lines of dust-laden +_sirus_ trees along the road showed light against it. + +"I wish some one would stupefy me," said Muriel, with a sudden passion +in her voice; to cover which she went on recklessly: "How I hate +Christmas in India!--the sham of it--sham decorations--sham church, +for it isn't real! The reality is outside among the poor folk in the +fields and the towns, to whom Christmas is a day when _we_ guzzle and +_they_ pay the piper!" + +"My dear Muriel!" + +"It's true! Think of it! Peace and goodwill? Isn't the whole station +at daggers-drawing because one lady said another wasn't the +best-dressed woman in India? Isn't your regiment, Colonel, ready to +murder you? Then that camp, right in the middle of us Christians, with +how many prisoners eating their hearts out? And Vile John--as Boy has +been taught to call him--half mad in thinking of his children who have +died. Oh, I know it is all inevitable--but think, just think of him +wandering about this Christmas Eve, liable to be shot at sight. +There's a Santa Claus for you!" + +Her voice had risen, her fingers had closed tremblingly on the sprig +of poinsettia she had fastened in her breast. It showed against the +white laces of her dress like a clutching scarlet hand. + +Colonel Gould shrugged his shoulders uneasily. "Don't forget Kunder in +the picture of peace and goodwill!--Kunder with his 'fings as kills'; +for the matter of that don't forget _you_ and _me_, and the rest of +us! The Decalogue is in danger on Christmas Eve as always--perhaps +more so." + +"I don't believe it," exclaimed Boy's mother in sudden pitiful +emotion. "Don't believe him, Muriel! Wait and see! Why, even that +storm brewing"--as she spoke a shivering seam of lightning shot +slanting across the purple pall behind the dusty trees--"only means +the Christmas rains. How welcome they will be after this endless +drought! They will perhaps save millions of lives--" + +"A doubtful message of peace," put in the Colonel, drily. "But hadn't +we better start? or we shan't have time for the _dhatura_." + +"You haven't time," said Boy's mother, sharply. "You must be back by +eight, Muriel, for we have to be at the camp by nine. Ayah will bring +Boy down ready dressed when we want him--so please don't be late." + +This thing which she saw looming as plainly as she saw that storm in +the sky, should not be if she could help it. They were too good, both +the man and the woman, for that sort of ruin. + +She shivered as she watched the dogcart drive off. Truly +there were storms ahead! And that thought of Viljeon--childless, +half-distraught--wandering about, liable to be shot like a wild beast, +made her fear for what might happen ere Christmas dawned. + +The verandah darkened silently after she left it. Every now and again +a puff of wind rattled the dry pods of the _sirus_ trees, making them +give out a faint crackle like that of a scaled viper coiled watchfully +in a corner. + +Kunder, in _his_ corner, sate up keenly as a snake does. There was a +louder crackle of a stealthy footstep. + +"Is it well?" came a stealthy voice. + +"If Fate wills," replied Kunder, sinking back again to sloth. + +A stealthy hand reached out a tiny paper packet wound with unspun +silk. + +"The sleep-giver--from the Master--it is fresh and good." + +"There is no need for sleep-giving," replied Kunder, passively. +"The _mem_ is drunk with the love-philtre women crave. I know their +ways"--he gave a little soft laugh. "She will not return to-night. So, +at dawn, I and the jewels will be--with the Master--if Fate so wills." + +"Why should She _not_ will?" + +Kunder laughed again. "Who knows what Fate _may_ will?" + +He looked out, when the stealthy footstep had gone, at the dusty trees +that were growing ghostly in the twilight, and told himself again that +none knew. Had _he_ known when, as a lad, he fought against the +Sahibs, that one day the death of a Sahib's five-year-old son would be +to him as the death of his own child? Had _he_ known when that +nursling's red-gold curls--so like Boy's curls--lay confidingly on his +breast, that one day he would be thief--perhaps murderer? + +No! it was as Fate willed. He was, as ever, in Her hands to-night. + +Another footstep! not stealthy this time, but hurried even in its +measured military rhythm. + +It was Hirabul Khan, the disgraced native officer, seeking an appeal +to Colonel Gould before the limitations of an open arrest made it +necessary for him to return to his quarters. + +"Yea, he was here!" replied Kunder, cynically. "He is ever here--after +the _mem!_ Where hides the doe thither comes the buck!" + +Hirabul twirled his moustache fiercely. "Keep thy tongue off thy +betters, scum of the bazaars, or I break thy every bone. I give thee +womenkind in general--but _this_ one is different. Whither hath he +gone? for I must see him." + +"No need," retorted Kunder, spitefully. "Thy pottage is cooked +already. He told the _mem_ so but now. 'No promotion,' said he--I know +their speech. And she--" + +"Base-born!--and she?" + +"She laughed, as I do--scum of the bazaars! Ha, ha!" A devilish +malignity had seized on him; he chuckled even while Hirabul shook him +like a rat. + +"Liar! Cur! Whither hath he gone?" + +"To the church--with the _mem!_ Thou wilt see! 'No promotion,' said +he; and she--" + +With a curse Hirabul flung the chuckler from him, and strode away into +the growing darkness. + + +The church stood--after the manner of Indian churches--in a garden, +and on the wide sweep of gravel round it carriages were awaiting the +owners, who were busy within. The Colonel's dogcart was among them. So +he was there, sure enough. + +Hirabul Khan, hesitating at the open door he dared not enter, could +see straight along the aisle to the altar; could see the cross of +poinsettia and white roses upon the latter, the text above it-- + + + "Unto us a Child is Born." + + +Unmeaning as it all was to him, he stood looking at it dreamily, until +suddenly from the unseen transept the Christmas hymn began, and those +of the decorators who were not remaining for choir practice came +trooping down the aisle. Then he retreated hastily to where the +Colonel's dogcart stood, that being his best chance of the interview +which, if humble apology might avail, would mean much to his pride. + +So he waited, watching with uncomprehending eyes, listening with +uncomprehensive ears-- + + + "Oh! come all ye faithful, + Joyful and triumphant, + Oh! come ye, oh! come ye to Bethlehem." + + +Suddenly, on those distant voices, the sound of nearer ones became +audible. He stepped back a pace or two, and peered through the thicket +of rose and pomegranate. + +The scum of the bazaars had spoken truth, then! That man and woman +standing so close to each other in the scented twilight were the new +Colonel, the real Colonel's wife! What infamy! He set his teeth and +listened--though this was to him as incomprehensible as the call to +peace and goodwill had been. + +"For God's sake, have pity on her!" Boy's mother's voice was full of +tears. "I heard you settle it. But if you two pick that _dhatura_ +tonight--'the last thing after the Tree, so that it may not wither!' +Oh, yes, I heard, Colonel Gould--" + +"You _did_ hear. I don't deny it. My dear, kind lady--think! If it is +not to-night--it _must_ be soon. This life is killing her--it is +wiser, kinder, to end the struggle now--" + +"No! no! give her time. It is in your power to do this, for she loves +you. Remember it is Christmas; you might, at least--" + +"The better the day! No; Christmas must take care of itself--if _it_ +can! I mean to take her away and care for her--if _I_ can. But thanks, +all the same. I shall never forget your kindness." + +In the semi-darkness the listener could see the man stoop and kiss the +hand laid on his arm. + +The next instant Colonel Gould was turning savagely on the figure +which had thrust itself on to the path. + +"What the devil are you doing here, sir? You are under arrest, and +should be in quarters." + +"It was only open arrest, sir, and the time--" Hirabul's tone matched +the mutiny in his heart, and the Colonel broke in on it roughly-- + +"Consider it close arrest now. Go back and report yourself at +once--and, by Heaven! if you say another word, I'll have you +court-martialled. Go!" + +A wild surge of impotent rage kept Hirabul Khan speechless, and ere he +recovered himself the Colonel was driving off--the Colonel and a +woman! + + + "Sing, choirs of angels, + Sing in exultation." + + +He turned and shook his fist at the church; then plunging recklessly +through the garden, sought silence and solitude. He needed calm before +he could even begin his revenge. + +There was no doubt about the coming of the rains now. More than one +heavy, curiously round drop fell on the dust through which he strode; +but all was still--very still as yet. + +By-and-by twinkling carriage-lights, like fireflies, began to sparkle +among the straight row of trees leading to the prison camp. + +Yet the rain kept off, and it had not even begun to fall when the +_ayah's_ twinkling light roused Boy for his robing. But half awake, +the child grew fractious, calling all things "shkittles," save the +killing of Viljeon, who, he asserted, was hiding in the garden. To all +of which _Ayah_, awaiting the carriage, agreed, until her charge, +seated on his little bed, grew drowsy once more, and she stole off for +a last pull at her forbidden pipe. + +But Kunder's light went on twinkling in the farther room, where he was +conscientiously finishing his old domestic duties, and preparing for +new ones. + +So after a time the carriage arrived, bringing with it a smell of damp +dust. + +"Hurry up, woman!" called the coachman. "It has begun down the road +like the storm of God. Bring the child; it were best he was soon in +safety." + +Bring the child! How? When Boy, with his little pretence wings sewn on +to his nightgown behind, his little sword that was not all pretence, +was not to be found! + +The twinkling lights--Kunder's among them--were all over the garden, +accompanied by endearments, threats, promises. + +"_Shiv-jee_ save him!" muttered Kunder, as suddenly the rain began to +fall in torrents, quenching his light, and washing him from head to +foot. The child with the red-gold curls of his race might well drown +on a night like this! + +The Colonel felt the same fear, as, waiting at the camp-gate to pass +the child in, he heard the news first; then, with a brief order that +the boy's mother was only to be told that the carriage had been +unable to return, owing to the violent storm, and that therefore the +gift-giving must go on without the little giver, started to join the +search. + +Hirabul also, who, waiting his opportunity for revenge, had dogged the +Colonel's footsteps all that evening, heard the tale as he skulked in +the crowd, put up his revolver, and with a sob at the thought of his +far-away _sahib_, unconscious of his wife's treachery or his son's +danger, set himself another task. + +So the rain fell, and the wayfarers, keeping by the flare of incessant +lightning to the raised roads, said to each other: "This is the deluge +of God! Repent, while there is time!" + + + * * * * * + + +"What a terrific noise it makes on this iron roof," said Boy's mother, +when the gift-giving was nearly over. "I'm glad Boy didn't come--he +might have been frightened." + + + * * * * * + + +Was he frightened out in the dark alone? He had been. Not at first, +however, when, half asleep, it had been almost a game to slip into the +garden to find and kill Viljeon, and so, cunningly, when he found no +one, into the belt of jungle adjoining it. He was not even frightened +when, stumbling over the rough ground and his long white robe, he +began to tire of his quest and tried to go back. It was not until the +lightning which heralded the bursting of the rain-cloud turned the +wilderness round him into black and white shadows that his courage +left him, and he started to run blindly, too terrified to think, still +too brave to scream. + +But he was not frightened now. He was fast asleep, cuddled warmly on a +big, broad breast against a big brown beard. + +For that quaint little figure, sword in hand and with its ridiculous +fluttering wings, had, almost in its first flight, run full tilt +against a man who was crouching to leeward of a big tuft of +tiger-grass--a man whose head was buried in his crossed arms, but who +sprang to his feet with a curse at the unmistakable touch of humanity; +then, as a flash of lightning showed him the white robe, the wings, +the golden aureole of hair, fell back faltering. + +"God in heaven!" he muttered in a foreign tongue. "What dost Thou +here?" + +Boy needed no question as to his wants. "Oh, please!" he panted, "take +me home. I wanted to kill Vile John with the sword as Kunder sharped; +but now I'd wather, please, give the Chrishmus fings--the peace, you +know, an' all that--please, sir. I weally would wather--" + +A sudden smile, half bitter, came to the man's bewildered face. "You +wanted to kill Vile John," he said in English. "Why?" + +"Oh, I don't know--but I don't want to now. I'd wather bring the +peace." + +And then silently the rain had begun--not rain such as Christmas +usually brings in India, but the downpour as from a bucket which comes +at times after long drought; rain before which nothing can stand, +which seems to wash the world and the men in it from all things save a +desire for shelter. + +"God in heaven!" exclaimed the man, reverting to his own tongue. "We +shall be drowned if we stop here. Come, little rat! Let us find a spot +where we can keep dry." + +A difficult job even for this man--Viljeon, prince of veldt +roamers--to whom this country with its rapidly filling watercourses, +its wide stretches of flood-land, was almost familiar. Seen, indeed, +by the rapid shimmer of the lightning as he steered his way, the +instinct of a pioneer waking in him at every step, he could scarce +believe he was not mastering an African drift. + +And the child cuddled close to his breast, wrapped for shelter in his +coat? Who was this child which he held as if it had been his own--the +child with its travesty of wings, its travesty of a sword? + +Half bewildered as he was, the humour, the pathos of the strange +chance made his heart softer, and his eyes grew keener, not only for +himself but for his charge, as the danger increased minute by minute. + +At first, mixed with his desire for present shelter had been that of +future escape for himself. But by degrees the thought of the child +came uppermost. Safety for it lay on different lines from safety to a +strong man untrammelled; and the instinct of the veldtsman told him +that the former was on the higher ground near the cantonment--near the +prison he had left! + +So, through the incessant rain, he threaded his way wading waist-deep +at times, till on a rising bit of land the lightning showed him a +ruined mud hovel. It might serve for shelter and rest for the time: if +the flood rose to it he could but go on. + +It was a sort of cattle-shed he found; a rude trough of mud ran round +it, and in one corner was a pile of straw. He drew the driest of this +from beneath the leaking roof, and, placing it in the trough, laid the +still sleeping child upon it. It was better so than in his damp coat. +Then, creeping to the doorway, he sate down to think and watch--alone. + +Not quite so much alone, however, as the darkness of the night which +followed on the sudden cessation of rain led him to believe; for not +two hundred yards away, in another cattle-shed on this Government +grazing-ground, three other refugees were also awaiting the dawn. + +For Kunder, who had abandoned jewels in the search for gold curls, had +happened in the dark upon Hirabul Khan, who in his turn was +desperately seeking aid for a disabled man whose shouts for help he +had answered, unwitting who gave them. + +And if it _was_ the Colonel, explained Hirabul, half apologetically, +as they made their way back together to give the help--well! a man +might be disloyal over women--who were the devil--yea! even to a real +hero like the absent _sahib_, and yet not deserve to drown like a rat +in a drain; and as for the other question, _that_ stood over for +settlement. + +Whereupon Kunder had asked what treacherous woman had an absent hero, +and had thereupon fallen into jeers over Hirabul's mistake. Was he a +fool not to know it was the other _mem_ who lived in the house? As for +Boy's mother, was she not palpably a _pudmuni_, with no thought save +for husband and son? + +In consequence of which explanation a new and remorseful respect had +come to Hirabul's helping of the Colonel, so that when the latter was +at last in comparative safety in the cattle-shed, he, too, found food +for thought as he also sate waiting for daylight, hoping against hope +for Boy and Boy's mother. + +So the grey dawn found him dozing at the door. But he started to his +feet at an exclamation from Kunder, who was standing outside; and +then across a stretch of shallowing water he saw another ruined +cattle-shed, and at the doorway a tall, broad man, with a big brown +beard. + +"Viljeon!" he exclaimed under his breath. + +"To be shot at sight," mumbled Hirabul, but half awake, as he reached +round aimlessly for a rifle. + +"Fool!" cavilled Kunder, all unwitting of the revolver in Hirabul's +belt, "thou art not safe with things that kill, so 'tis well thou hast +none. See! he beckons to us. Let us go to him. The rain hath washed +evil from us all!" + +They helped the Colonel, who could scarce believe his senses, to +hobble across, while Viljeon stood guarding the door with a still, +stern look on his face. + +"You will find the Child lying in the manger," he said; "bring your +offerings--I have brought mine." + + + * * * * * + + +But only three wise men went down to cantonments that Christmas +morning, bringing the child with them; for Kunder, wiser perhaps, or +less wise, felt that his new virtue was better away from the proximity +of the jewels he had left tied up ready in a bundle; so, seizing his +opportunity, he slipped like a water-snake into the tangle of floods +and was seen no more. + + + * * * * * + + +"And after all," said Boy's mother, softly, "Christmas _did_ take care +of itself!" + +"Yes!" answered the Colonel, quietly. "We all brought our +offerings--gold and frankincense and myrrh." + + + + + SURÂBHI + + A FAMINE TALE + + +She was only a cow, but she was all things, wife and child, earth and +heaven, to old Gopâl, the Brahmin who owned her. + +And, apart from his estimation, she had value. Connoisseurs in the +village, as they looked over the low mud wall which separated the slip +of open courtyard, ten feet by six, where there was just room for a +crazy four-legged string bed between Surâbhi's manger and the door, +would nod and say she must have been a good cow when young; but when +that was only God knew! + +Whereupon Gopâl would raise his shaven head with its faint frosting of +silver hair from Surâbhi's silver flank, as he squatted holding a +brass _lotah_ in one hand, milking with the other, and smile +scornfully. + +"Old or young, she is the best milker in the village, and the best +looking one, and the best bred," he would say. "And wherefore not? Is +she not Surâbhi the Great Milk-Mother, whom even the gods worship? +Since without her where would the little godlings be?" And then he +would pop down the _lotah_ and cease milking for a moment, so that +both hands might be free for a reverential _salaam_ to the old cow +who, at the cessation, would turn her mild white face--the real +Brahmini zebu face with its wide dewy black nostril, wide dewy black +eyes, and long lopping ears--to see what had come to old Gopi; and as +often as not, would give his round frosted black poll a lick round +with her black frosted tongue, by way of encouragement to go on, as if +he had been a calf! + +But the connoisseurs over the wall would snigger, and touch their +foreheads, and say that Gopâl Das was getting quite childish and mixed +up things. Though, no doubt, the great Surâbhi must have been just +such another cow, since the old man said right. There was not her like +in the village. No! not even now that Govinda had brought home the +brown cow with five teats, which had taken the prize at the _Huzoor's_ +big show. It was younger, of course, but Surâbhi would outlast the old +man, and what more could _he_ want? Then who, before these latter +days, had ever heard tell of a brown cow? And as for the five teats, +they might portend more milk, but were they lawful? + +So long-limbed, whole-hearted, dull-headed, the villagers went +doubtfully about their business scarcely less confused than old Gopi +between facts and fancies, realities and unrealities; tied and bound, +as their like are in hamlet and village, by the allegories of a faith +whose inner teaching has been forgotten. + +But old Gopâl stayed with Surâbhi. His life was bounded by her. How he +lived was one of the many mysteries of Indian village life. He did +nothing but look after his cow, but he must have inherited some +fractional share of the village land from his fathers, or been +entitled, by reason of his race, to some ancestral dues, for twice a +year at harvest time he would come back to the courtyard, like a +squirrel to its nest, with so many handfuls of this grain and so many +handfuls of that, so many bundles of wheat straw, millet stalks, or +pea stems. And on these, and the milk she gave, he and Surâbhi lived +contentedly. He was very old; if he had had wife and children in the +past he had quite forgotten them. Yet it was typical of village life +that no one forgot old Gopi or his rights. Whatever was due to him +from well or unwatered land, even if it were only so many leaves of +tobacco or chili pods, came to the courtyard as regularly as the +sunshine. + +And, regularly as the sunshine, too, the old man, after he had milked +Surâbhi in the early dawn, would go with his solitary blanket and a +little spud, and spend the whole day till sunset in gathering +succulent weeds for the Great Milk-Mother's supper. It was his +religion. And under the broad blue sky, edging a plantigrade path over +the parched plain, leaving, like a locust, not a green leaf behind +him, old Gopi's mind would be full of confused piety and mystical +meanings. + +This was the highest service of man, this was Faith, and Hope, +and Charity all combined; since every one knew that Surâbhi was the +World-Mother, and without her-- + +Here the old Brahmin's memory of words would fail him, and he would +fall back on deeds, by digging at the biggest weed within reach. + +From year's end to year's end he seldom fingered a coin, and if he +did, it was Surâbhi who brought it to him. Her last calf had long +since become an ox, and drifted away from the village to fill a gap in +the great company of the ploughers and martyrs who give the coffer of +the Empire all its gold and die in thousands--long before famine +touches humanity--without a penny piece from that coffer being spent +to save them from starvation. Yet she still, after the fashion of her +race, gave milk and to spare. The latter went, as a rule, to folk +poorer still than the old Brahmin, especially to children; but when he +sold it, part of the money was always spent on a new charm for +Surâbhi's neck. And it might be noted that whenever, by looking over +the old mud walls which separated the village courtyards one from the +other, he found that Govinda's brown cow had a fresh bell or +disposition of cowries round her neck, there was always enough milk +over and above Gopi's wants next day to procure a similar adornment +for the white one with its heavy dewlap. + +The rivalry grew, by degrees, into a definite challenge between their +owners, so that when, after a time, Govinda's beast fell off in her +milk, Gopi's delight was palpable, and he scouted all reasonable +explanations of the fact. + +The cow, he said, was underbred. You could see by her hoofs that she +had been accustomed to wander about and pick up her own living like +low-caste folk; while Surâbhi bore token of her lifelong seclusion in +every polished ring of her long-pointed black toes. + +But before the question at issue could be decided, that came about +which dried up every cow in the village, and made even old Gopi's +brass _lotah_ cease to brim. + +There was no rain. Even in December and January, though the skies were +dappled as the partridge's breast, the clouds carried their moisture +elsewhere. Where, did not affect the villagers. It was not here, and +that was all they knew. The autumn crop, which means fodder, had been +a scant one, the cattle were thrown entirely on the still scantier +growth of grass in the waste land; and when that failed, custom did +not fail. The herds were driven forth from the thorn enclosures every +morning to the wilderness and taken back from it at eve, just as if +that wilderness were still a grazing-ground. What else could be done, +seeing that when cattle starve it is not a famine? _That_ is a time +when help is given by the new master. God knows why, since the old +masters never gave any. + +Such time of help must come, of course, ere long, if the clouds +remained dry; but meanwhile the flocks and herds went out to graze on +mud, and if some failed to return in the evening, what else was to be +expected? + +So the long dry days dragged on. That spring-harvest old Gopâl's share +of garnered grain was scarcely worth the bringing home. The squirrel's +hoard in the little courtyard was scanty indeed, and very soon he had +to stint his own share, and rise an hour earlier to go weed-grubbing, +and return an hour later, so that Surâbhi should not low her +discontent at short commons. For that would be shame unutterable, even +though the brown cow had long since been driven from high-class +seclusion to fend for herself with the common herd from dawn to eve. + +Thus old Gopâl's lank anatomy was appreciably more lank, more +skeleton-like, when one day the headman of the village, as he smoked +his pipe in front of the house of faith where strangers were lodged, +announced that the famine had really come at last. Over in Chotia +Aluwala there were piles of baskets and spades. Some _Huzoors_ were +there in white tents, so doubtless ere long, God knows why, they would +begin digging earth from one place and putting it in another, so that +a distribution of grain could be made in the evening. + +That was the headman's idea of relief-works, and his hearers had no +other. + +Now, Chotia Aluwala was ten miles at least from Surâbhi's stall, but +of late Gopi had scarce found a weed within twice that distance. + +So the very next day, when, backed by a pile of forlorn-looking earth +on one side and a not much smaller pile of baskets with which the +earth had, during the day's toil been conveyed to its present +resting-place, one hungry face after another came up in file to the +distribution of food, old Gopi's frosted head was among the number. +But he was bitterly disappointed at his dole of cooked dough-cake. He +had expected grain. Though more than enough for his old appetite, what +would Surâbhi, with her seven stomachs, say to such concentrated food? + +After his long trudge home he passed a miserable night seeking, by +every means in his power, to supply the bulk necessary for the +satisfying of those clamorous stomachs. He even chopped up the grass +twine of his string bed and tempted the old cow to chew it by soaking +the fibre in some of her own milk. + +Thus, once more, he came off second best, for the milk should have +been his share. So he could scarcely manage to stagger along with his +basket next day. Not that this mattered, for already the Englishmen, +who, in their khaki clothes and huge pith helmets were supervising the +work, were saying tentatively, with a glance at the totterers, that it +might have been better to start relief a little sooner. And down in +one hollow Gopi saw a woman being carried away, while the babe which +had been at her breast yelled feebly in an orderly's arms. + +The sight did not affect Gopi in the least. He had thought out a plan +which filled his confused old soul with a heavenly joy. So when his +two dough-cakes were given him that evening he hurried off with them +to the contractor in the background, through whom the _Huzoors_ +had arranged for this supply, and exchanged them--at a loss, +inevitably--for the coarse husks, the bran, the sweepings, the +absolute waste which could not be used even in famine bread. + +The arrangement suited both parties, the contractor and old Gopi, who +day after day trudged home, hungry, with a bulky bundle of fodder for +Surâbhi. It was a fair exchange all round; even with the old cow, who +turned the fodder into milk. Not much, it is true, since the bundle +was not over-large, but enough to keep Gopi's soul and body together. + +And the soul grew if the body wasted. How could it be otherwise, when +one was permitted to be the babe and suckling, as it were, of the +Great Milk-Mother? The Great World-Mother, whose sacred work it was to +nourish all things, even the little godlings? + +The old Brahmin's eyes grew softer, more trustful, more like the eyes +of a child, as the days went by; and as he milked her, Surâbhi's black +frothed tongue often licked more than his shaven poll, as if she were +concerned at the bones which showed through the skin of her calf. + +Gopâl himself, however, took this licking as a mark of Divine favour; +and, as for the thinness, were not all the babes and sucklings growing +thin? + +That was true. The Englishman in head charge of the Chotia Aluwala +relief-work canal had that thinness on his conscience. But what could +man do in a wilderness, without mothers, without milk? + +He had it on his heart too, because he was a father; and because, +despite a mother and milk, doctors and dosing galore, it was not two +months since he had seen his first-born waste away mysteriously to +death, as children will waste. + +So his mind was full of it, when, for the sake of seeing a lonely wife +and mother, he rode forty miles after nightfall to the little bungalow +so empty of a child's voice. + +"I've got quite a nursery of 'em now," he said grimly, "but they beat +me. I can't get the men in charge to mix that tin-milk stuff right, +you know, and the little beggars won't look at a teaspoon." + +Perhaps it was his ride that had tired him. Anyhow, he crossed his +hands on the table, and laid his head on them wearily. + +He roused, however, at her touch on his shoulder. + +"Let me come," she said; "I've--I've nothing to do here." + +He looked at her for a moment, then turned his eyes away. "Will you?" +he said in an odd voice; "that--that will be awfully jolly." + +So in a day or two, armed with the dead baby's bottles, feeding-cups, +God knows what, and such mother's lore as the dead child had taught +her, she was at work in a white tent set in the shade of the only tree +at Chotia Aluwala. + +"I must have more milk," she said decidedly, and there was a new light +in her eyes, a new tone in her voice, when they brought her yet +another whimpering black baby. "That is the end of it; by hook or by +crook I _must_ have more milk. There _must_ be some, somewhere. Send +out and see!" + +So, because when a woman is standing between death and children, her +orders are the orders of "She-who-must-be-obeyed," they sent. And, of +course, one of the first discoveries made by the native underling to +whom the inquiry was entrusted, was Surâbhi. In other words, that an +old Brahmin, in receipt actually of relief, was the possessor of a +remarkably fine cow, if not in full milk, yet capable of supporting an +infant or two. It needs the vicious _flair_ of an underpaid +_chuprassi_ to find such chances for tyranny and extortion at the +first throw off. But this one was found, and when Gopi returned that +evening to the little courtyard, an official with a brass _lotah_ was +waiting for milk. It would be paid for, of course, by-and-by. Gopi +could keep an account, and the _Sirkar_ no doubt would pay, provided +the _proper official_ certified it by a countersign. + +The old man was too confused, too tired to be ready with protest at a +moment's notice. So that night he went supperless to bed. But in the +white tent over at Chotia Aluwala, an Englishwoman's pale face had +quite a colour in it. + +"Fancy!" she said, "two whole quarts of the most beautiful, rich milk! +I would reward that man if I were you, hubby. I am to have the same +every day. It--it means four lives at least!" + +Possibly, for a baby takes less to keep it alive than an old man. + +Small tragedies of this sort are common enough in India, but it is +difficult to give all their fineness of detail to English eyes. + +Old Gopâl was at once cunning as a fox, guileless as a child; and +through both the guile and the innocence ran that bewildered belief in +Surâbhi as something beyond ordinary cows. He tried to escape the +_impasse_ by not milking her dry, so as to leave some for himself; but +though Surâbhi resented any other hand finishing the task, it was +impossible for an experienced onlooker to be deceived. The result of +that, therefore, was abuse and blows. Then he tried keeping back one +dough-cake from his daily dole for himself, and only exchanging the +other for fodder. That reduced the milk in reality, but it also +reduced Surâbhi to lowing; and his sense of sin, in consequence, +became so acute that he was forced into going back to the old plan. +But these tactics had, by this time, roused the petty official's ire. +The _mem sahiba_ had spoken sharply to him because the milk had fallen +off in quantity and quality; for he had not scrupled, despite old +Gopi's tears and distracted prayers, to take away the Milk-Mother's +character by filling up the measure with water. + +And so he lost patience. Thus one day he avenged himself and attained +his object by first reporting that Gopi, Brahmin, was wrongfully and +fraudulently obtaining relief, seeing that he was, amongst other +things, possessor of a remarkably fine cow, whose milk he was selling +to the _Huzoors_, and then seizing Surâbhi, on the ground that Gopi, +having no means of supporting her, was not fit to take care of so +valuable an animal! + +These two blows, followed by the sight of Surâbhi being walked off on +her dainty toes into the rough outside world, quite upset the frail +balance of the old man's mind. + +He crouched shivering all night in the empty stall, feeling himself +accursed. He was not worthy. Surâbhi had gone. + +How long he remained there speechless, famine-stricken, yet not +hungry, he did not know. It was early afternoon when the white garment +and brass badge of authority showed again at the door in the low wall, +and a voice said sullenly-- + +"Thou must come. Thy cursed cow is a devil for kicking, and the _mem_ +is a fiend for temper. My badge is gone if thou come not. My pony will +carry two." + +The sun was showing red behind the great piles of earth which in that +wide level plain rose like a range of hills, when the oddly assorted +pair rode into the shade of the Chotia Aluwala tree. There was no need +to announce the arrivals. Surâbhi declared who one was, almost ere he +stumbled to the ground, stiff, dazed, bewildered. All the more +bewildered for that vision of something undreamt of, unseen hitherto +in Gopâl Das' ignorant village life--a woman fair as milk herself, +smiling at him gladly, calling with quaint, strange accent: +"Quick--quick! we wait, we are hungry--are we not, babies?" + +There were dark toddlers round the white dress, a dark head on the +white bosom, and old Gopi muttered something about the Milk-Mother, +the World-Mother, as, with a brass vessel some one thrust into his +hand, he squatted down beside Surâbhi. + +He scarcely needed to milk her; perhaps that was as well, for he was +very tired. But the _lotah_ brimmed, and another had to be called for, +while Surâbhi's black frosted tongue licked the black frosted head +between her "_moos_" of satisfaction. + +And beyond, in the shadiest part of the shade, there was more +satisfaction and to spare. + +After a while old Gopi crept stiffly to watch it, squatting in the +dust with dry, bright, wistful eyes fixed on the bottles, the babies; +above all on the milk-white face full of smiles. + +Until suddenly he gave a little cry. + +"Me too, Mother of mercy! Great Milk-Mother of the world, me too!" he +said, like any child, and so fell forward insensible with +outstretched, petitioning hands. + +But that was the end of his troubles. + +When he came to himself, the Great Milk-Mother was feeding him with a +teaspoon. Nor when he recovered his strength would she let him out of +the nursery, for by that time the whole story had been told, with the +curious calm acquiescence of villagers in such pitiful tales of +mistake and wrong. Every one had known the truth, of course, but what +then? The _Huzoors_ wanted the milk for the babies, and Gopi was old-- + +"He is only a baby himself," interrupted a woman's voice indignantly +when this explanation was being given; "why, this morning I made him +as happy as a king by letting him suck one of the bottles! He said +that there was nothing left now to be desired, nothing wanting, +except--" + +"Except what?" asked the man's voice. + +"That he could see no little godlings like--like me." + +Then there was silence. + + + + + ON THE OLD SALT ROAD + + +After the discussion on a certain story told by the grey man had +reached dissolution point from sheer want of coherence, I observed +that the Major--though still standing in his usual place by the +fire--was looking into the embers instead of warming his coat-tails at +them. This fact, and the expression of his face, convinced me that he +had forgotten the present in some past experience. + +"The Major remembers a story," I remarked aloud. He looked up with a +smile. + +"I must have a very transparent face," he said, "but it is quite true. +I have been wondering if I ought not to tell you something that +happened to some one--to me, in fact--a great many years ago. It seems +to me that I ought. You see most of you are inclined to scoff at the +story we have just heard; unwilling to allow anything but a rational +explanation of the mysterious summons. I am not, simply because I +happen to have had certain experiences which most of you have not had. +The question therefore arises as to whether I am not bound to give my +evidence, and so, perhaps, prevent you from forming a hasty judgment?" + +He looked inquiringly round the room, but no one spoke. We were so +much accustomed to accept the Major's decisions as, above all things, +equitable, that we were content to let him arrive at one unbiassed by +our views. During the pause which followed, I found myself thinking +that weight for weight, inches for inches, brains for brains, I knew +no man who had made a better use of life than our Major. Not over +clever, certainly not handsome, handicapped heavily by having to start +at scratch in worldly matters, he had a distinct personality of his +own which influenced every society he entered. You felt somehow that +your estimate of that society rose from his presence, and that he +brought an element of sound, healthy strength of heart and mind into +the _mêlée_ which you would not willingly spare from the struggle for +existence. It came to this. Had he not been there the world would have +been the worse for his absence; high praise, indeed, for any man. + +"Yes!" continued the Major, after a pause, "I'll have to tell my tale +like the Ancient Mariner; and if in so doing I bore you with a few +uninteresting confidences about myself, I can't help it. You shall +have as little of them as possible." + +He was so long settling himself in a chair, pulling up his trousers in +his careful, economical way, and poking the fire, that our attention +had begun to waver, when his opening words startled us into renewed +curiosity. + +"I don't suppose," he began, "that any of you know I am a widower; but +I am. My wife died a year after our marriage; and the child too--a +girl. If you search the whole wide world through you won't find a more +desolate creature than a boy of two-and-twenty coming back alone in a +strange country from the grave of his wife and child. Perhaps, as +Rudyard Kipling says, he has no business to have a wife and child. +Anyhow he feels a mistake somewhere in the universe when he tries to +behave like a man in the little drawing-room she made so pretty. The +twopenny-halfpenny fans put up to hide the bare walls--the little +dodges to make the sticks of furniture look nice which seemed to you +so clever, and over which you have both laughed so often--the unused +basket thing done up with lace and frills over which she was so happy +that last evening, while you sate by wondering if it could be true, +and that your child would lie amongst the dainty furbelows. Well! I +suppose it has to be sometimes, but it drove me mad. I was like the +boy in another of Kipling's tales, and could think of nothing but +death to end it all; just to creep away and die by myself somewhere. I +did not want so much to be dead, but to be quite alone--by myself. You +see I had lost everything--for ever--and the rest of the stupid world +drove me wild with impatience. + +"So I went out on leave to the old Salt Road, which ran right across +the loneliest part of the district. Perhaps some of you don't know +what a Salt Road is? Simply the Customs line which in old days used to +be patrolled day and night in order to prevent smuggling. The cactus +hedge had been cut down when the protection system was given up, but +the road behind it was still passable, and the patrol houses, more or +less dilapidated, stood at intervals of ten or twelve miles. I had +seen some of them when out on shooting expeditions, and the +remembrance of their desolation came back on me now with a new sort of +fascination. + +"After I settled to go I used to lie awake wondering which of them +would be the place. Not the first. That was within hail of other +people and help; besides, I could not so soon get rid of the servant +whom I had to take with me in order to avoid suspicion. My plan was to +send the man on early with orders to do two stages, and have +everything ready for me at night in bungalow Number Three; then I +should have all the day to myself. Would it be bungalow Number Two, at +noon, I wondered? As there were five patrol houses in all, it would +most likely be Two or Four; but if I liked any of the others better I +could easily find some excuse for getting rid of the servant. + +"This may seem unnatural, but I was really quite mad with a sort of +rage and spite against everything and everybody; so utterly absorbed +in myself that I felt as if I were taking a revenge on life by +quitting it. My own pain being the axis of the universe, the world +must surely be the loser by its removal. In fact, my mental position +at this time might be fairly represented by that of a man quitting a +pleasant society because some one has been rude to him. I had no hopes +of bettering my condition; I simply wanted to show my resentment. + +"I don't believe I ever slept sounder in my life than on the first +night after leaving cantonments. Perhaps it was the change; but I +remember being disappointed and disgusted with myself when I woke to +find broad daylight streaming in through the broken windows of Number +One. My servant, according to his orders, had started at dawn, for the +weather was still hot enough to make early marching necessary. He had, +however, left me a bottle of cold tea and some provisions, which I ate +with appetite. And now comes a curious thing. Though I had quite made +up my mind to face death, and all the dangers it might bring, I +positively hesitated about starting for a ten-mile walk in the sun +from fear of heat apoplexy. It was very unreasonable, but it shows the +force of habit. After I had decided on remaining where I was till the +evening, I walked round the tumble-down mud building, wondering if it +would do for the final tableau. It did not please me, so I lay down +and slept, feeling that I ought really to have remained awake and +brooded over my grief. But an unconquerable drowsiness was upon me, +making me sleep like a child. How well I remember the ten-mile walk to +the next bungalow! The afternoon shadows lengthened across the +half-effaced road as I tramped along in solitary silence. I had +nothing with me save my revolver and a small writing-case with which +to inscribe my last words of defiance. My thoughts were full of what +these should be, for I had now quite made up my mind that bungalow +Number Two was to be the place, and that a very short time would rid +me of all my foes. I felt distinctly easier than I had done before, +and being, as it were, wound up to tragedy pitch, the cheerful +appearance of Number Two as I came up to it in the sunset disappointed +me. In cutting down the thorn and cactus hedge they had, as usual, +left the _kikar_ bushes, and these had grown into trees, forming an +avenue, while a few more shaded the house itself. This was also far +less dilapidated than Number One; not only were the doors and windows +intact, but at a few of them still hung the usual reed blinds or +_chicks_. As I wandered round the house before entering it, I noticed +what one might call the graves of a garden. Broken mounds of earth +giving a reminiscence of walks and beds, with here and there a globe +amaranth doing chief mourner. Evidently bungalow Number Two had been +the permanent residence of a patrol. It annoyed me to find myself +wondering if he had had a wife and child, so I hastily entered the +centre room, determined to put an end to all useless sympathies +without delay. To my surprise it contained a few half-broken sticks of +furniture; but telling myself that it would make my last task easier I +laid my revolver on the table and, taking out my case, sat down to +write. Again I felt curiously drowsy; more than once I rested my head +on my hands and rubbed my eyes in the endeavour to collect my +thoughts. + +"A sudden increase of light in the room, visible even through my +shading fingers, made me look up. The _chick_ was turned aside, and +holding it back with one chubby hand stood a little child about three +years old. I think, without exception, the loveliest little girl I +ever saw. Great mischievous brown eyes, and fluffy curls of that pale +gold which turns black in after years. She raised her hand from the +door-jamb, and placed her finger to her lips, brimming over with +laughter. + +"'_Hush!! Ma-ma's a-teep. Dot's 'un away_.' + +"Such a ripple of a voice, musical with happiness. I was always fond of +children, and this one was of the sort any man would notice--perhaps +covet. I laid down my pen, forgetful of interruption. + +"'Dot has run away, has she? That's very naughty of Dot, isn't it? But +as she has run away she had better come in here. You are not afraid of +me, are you?' + +"She was already in the room; then I noticed for the first time that +she was in her nightgown--a straight white thing like they put the +angels into, and her small bare feet made no noise on the floor. + +"'Dot's not af'aid. Dot's never af'aid. Dot's a b'aave girl. Dada says +so.' + +"She spoke more to herself than to me, and the words were evidently a +formula well known and often repeated. + +"'Who is Dada?' I asked, feeling the first curiosity that had had +power to touch me for many days. + +"Dot had raised herself to the level of the table with her tiny hands, +and now stood on tiptoe opposite me. Her fair curls framed her face, +as her laughing brown eyes fixed themselves on my revolver. + +"'Dada's?' she said coaxingly. 'Dot wants to make a _puff-puff-boom!_' + +"The childish words evoked a quick horror, why, I cannot tell; but a +sudden vision of myself as I should be in that lonely room after the +dull report rose up and blinded me. Somehow the coaxing babyish phrase +filled me with an awful revulsion of feeling. My head sank into my +hands; when I raised it the child had gone. + +"I went into the verandah uncertain what to do. The room next mine had +a _chick_ also, so that I could not see in from the outside, but from +within came a low crooning song like a lullaby. Every now and again +little bursts of a child's voice. Dot, no doubt, recaptured and +soothed to sleep. It was evident that the bungalow was occupied by +others beside myself, for in the gathering dusk I thought I saw some +white forms flitting about the servants' quarters. I wondered faintly +at the latter, for I had a half recollection of noticing that the huts +were entirely in ruins. My mind, however, had now reverted to its +original purpose with increased strength, and I returned to the room +considering what had best be done. The child's words, '_Dot's not +af'aid! Dot wants to make a puff-puff-boom_,' would not keep out of +my head. After all, was it not only another way of phrasing my own +desire? I was not afraid. Not afraid of what? Amid these questionings +one thing was certain. It could not be bungalow Number Two-- I would +not frighten the child Ah, no! I could not frighten Dot for ever with +the awful _puff-puff-boom_ I had set myself to make. + +"It must therefore be Number Four, so I packed up my writing things +and set off to rejoin my servant at Number Three. How childish we are! +As I trudged along I caught myself smiling more than once over the +recollection of Dot's mischievous face at the door. My servant was +patiently awaiting my arrival beside the dinner he had cooked for me. +Supposing I had not turned up--according to my original plan--he would +have waited calmly all night long, keeping his '_clear soup, chikhun +cutlet, custel pudden_' hot for a dead man. I must have been less mad, +for the humour of the idea struck me at the time, and I laughed. He +gravely asked why I had not brought on my pillow and sheets, and I +laughed again as I told him I meant to do without them in the future. +Everything was clear now. Fate had settled on Number Four, so there +was nothing to worry or hustle about. I bade him call me early, +determined this time to have all the day to myself. Then I fell asleep +to dream the night long of Dot and the revolver. Indeed my thoughts +were so full of her, that even when I woke I fancied, more than once, +that I heard her voice in the verandah, though I knew it could only be +a trick of fancy, for the bungalow was a perfect wreck, and even the +room I occupied had but half a roof. + +"It must have been about eleven o'clock ere I reached Number Four, +which stood off the road a little and was much smaller than any of the +other bungalows. Indeed it consisted of but two rooms opening the one +into the other. It looked the very picture of desolation, planted +square in the open with a single _kikar_ tree struggling for life in +one corner of the enclosure. Yet it was the best preserved of all the +patrol-houses; perhaps because of its smaller size and greater +compactness. Anyhow it needed little to fit it for habitation, and as +I found out afterwards it was constantly used by the civil officers +when on their tours of inspection. At the time, however, I was +surprised to find signs of recent occupation about it in the shape of +earthen pots and half-burnt sticks in a mud fireplace. Going into the +outer room I found it contained, like Number Two, a few bits of +furniture, and feeling weary I sat down by the table without looking +into the other room, only a portion of which was visible through the +half-closed door. + +"Once more I laid my revolver beside me, and took out my writing +materials. I had just begun my task when a deadly disgust at the whole +business came over me, and I resolved to end everything without +further delay. My hand sought the revolver, and fingered it +mechanically to see if it were loaded. A sense of strangeness made me +look at it, when, to my intense surprise, I found it was not my own +weapon. This was an old-fashioned heavy revolver, and one of the +chambers had evidently been recently fired. As I laid it down, +astonished beyond measure, I saw my own on the table beside it! + +"Whose then was the other? Did it belong to some one else in the +bungalow? Was I once more to be disturbed? I rose instinctively and +pushed open the door leading into the inner room. To my still greater +surprise I found it littered with half-open boxes and various things +lying about in great confusion. A few common toys were on the floor; +on the bare string bed a bundle of bedding; on the table a heap of +towels, and a basin of water ominously tinged with red. The fireplace +was on the other side of the room beyond the table, and crouched +beside it on the floor was a woman closely huddled up in a common grey +shawl. She held something under its folds on her knee; something that +drew breath in long gasping sighs, with a fatal pause between them. + +"'I beg your pardon,' I stammered, intending to retire. Just then the +woman looking up, showed me a young face, so wild with grief and +terror that I paused irresolute. + +"' Will no one come!' she wailed, seeming to look past me with eyes +blind with grief. 'O God--dear God! will no one ever come?' Then, as +her face fell again over the burden on her lap, she moaned like an +animal in mortal agony. But above the moan I could still hear that +curious gasping sigh. 'Can I not help?' I asked. She gave no reply, so +I went up and stood beside her. Still she seemed unconscious of my +presence, for once more came the wail. 'Will nobody come? O my God! +will nobody come to help?' 'I have come,' I answered, touching her on +the arm. She looked at me then, and a curious thrill made me feel +quite dizzy for a moment. Perhaps that was the reason why both face +and voice seemed to me changed and altered. Her eyes met mine +doubtfully. + +"'You did not come before,' she said. 'No one ever came--no one, no +one.' + +"As I removed my hand she bent once more over her burden with the same +piteous moan. + +"Evidently she was stupefied by horror and suspense, so I gently +raised her shawl to see what was the matter. + +"Great heavens! What a sight! After all these years I seem to see it +now. Fair silky curls dabbled in blood that welled up from under the +handkerchief which the woman held convulsively to the little white +breast. One chubby hand thrown out stiff and clenched; great brown +eyes glazed and dim; grey lips where each gasping sigh sent a tinge of +red. + +"'Dot!' I exclaimed, dropping on my knees the better to assure myself +of the awful truth. + +"The familiar name seemed to rouse the wavering life. + +"'_Dots not af'aid. Dot--only--wanted to make--a puff-puff-boom_.' + +"The words seemed to float in the air. I heard them as in a dream; and +as in a dream also came an insight into what had happened. Dada's +revolver within reach of those tiny hands. O Dot! poor little brave +Dot! I felt helpless before the awful tragedy. Once I tried to take +the child, but the woman resisted silently, nor could I get her to +listen to my entreaties that she should at least move to an easier +position. At last, seeing I could do nothing, and acknowledging +sorrowfully that nothing I could do was likely to be of any avail, I +contented myself with waiting beside her in silence, until the end. +And as I waited a coherent story grew out of what I knew, and what I +guessed. They had come on early that morning, the father on his way +further afield, the mother and child to remain in the little bungalow +till his return. Then all in a minute the accident; and then the only +servant had been sent forth wildly for help whilst the wretched woman +waited alone. Yes! that must have been it. So clear, so simple, so +awful in its very simplicity. + +"There was not a sound in the house save at intervals the woman's +moan. 'Will no one ever come! O God; will no one ever come!' and +always distinct above it the child's gasping sigh with a soft rattle +in it. + +"How long this lasted I cannot say. It was like some hideous +nightmare, until suddenly the sighing ceased, and I became conscious +of an immeasurable relief. Yet I knew the silence meant death. + +"The woman did not move or notice me in any way, so once more I +touched her on the arm. + +"'There is no need to watch longer,' I said; 'Dot is asleep at last. +It is your turn to rest. Give me the child, and believe me there is +nothing to be done now.' + +"As before, she raised her face to mine, and the same thrill came over +me as I recognised an unmistakable change in features and voice; a +deadening of expression, a hardening of the tone into a certain +fretfulness. + +"'But there is a great deal to be done,' she replied rapidly. 'Oh! so +much. How can you know? We must dig the grave under the _kikar_ tree +and bury her in the sand--for it is sand below, and it creeps and +creeps into the grave and will not leave room for Dot. And the night +must fall--oh, so dark!--before her father gets home. There will +hardly be time to dig the little grave before sunrise; and it must be +dug--you know it must--' + +"Her words seemed to me wild and distraught. To soothe her I repeated +that there was plenty of time. + +"She frowned, closed her eyes with one hand, and again replied in a +curiously rapid, even tone. + +"'No! no! there never has been time. It is always a hurry. Out in the +dark digging the grave, and the sand slipping, slipping, slipping till +there is no room. I have done it,--oh! so many times.' + +"I was puzzled what to do or say. The wisest course seemed to leave +her to herself until help arrived. So after one or two ineffectual +attempts at consolation I went outside in despair to see if the +assistance so sorely needed was not in sight. Surely it could not be +delayed much longer. I was surprised to find how late it was: noon had +long passed, and cool shadows were stretching themselves athwart the +parched ground. One, darker and cooler than the rest, lay eastward of +the solitary _kikar_ tree. Here it was that the little grave was to be +dug if the mother's wish were fulfilled. Quite mechanically I strolled +to the spot, impelled by sad curiosity. + +"As I approached, the fragments of a low railing, half standing, half +lying, in a small oblong, made me wonder if the enclosure had already +been a resting-place. That might account for the mother's wish. Yes! +there was a grave; a tiny grave no bigger than little Dot's would be, +with a roughly-hewn cross as a headstone. + +"I bent to read the inscription:-- + + + HERE LIES + + Our Little Darling Dot. + + 1840. + + +"Dot! I stood up with heart and brain in a whirl. Dot! 1840. +Five-and-twenty years ago, and Dot had died but half-an-hour before. +What did it mean? _What did it mean?_ + +"A sudden fear of the solitude and silence of the place fell upon me. +But for shame I would have turned tail on it then and there. As it +was, scorn of my own suspicions made me return to the house. How still +it was! how desolate. I remember standing at the outer door listening +in vain for some sound within; I remember seeing my revolver and +writing-case on the table in the outer room; I remember nerving myself +to push open the inner door, but I remember no more. + + + * * * * * + + +"They told me in hospital that I must have tripped over the broken +flooring between the two rooms, and in falling have cut my head +against the lintel. + +"Perhaps I did. Perhaps I didn't. I only know that something--God +knows what--stood between me and my madness, so that when I came to +myself it was gone for ever. In its place had grown up a craving to +live--to hear, to see, to know, to understand. + +"As I got better I used to lie and cry like a woman. Then the other +fellows would say it was all weakness, and that I must be a man and +bear up. And sometimes I would lie and smile. Then they said I was a +trump with more pluck than they had. And as often as not I wasn't +thinking of myself or my own troubles at all, but of brave little Dot +and her desire for a _puff-puff-boom_. + +"They sent me down the Indus to Bombay, so as to avoid the rattle of +the train, for my head was still weak. We stuck on a sandbank at +Sukkhur, being made unmanageable by two flats we were towing. They +were laden mostly with cargo, but carried a good many third-class +passengers. I don't know why I had risen from my sick-bed full of a +great curiosity, but I had. Somehow I never seemed to have looked at +life before, whereas now everything interested me. So I went down to +the flats and talked to the people. There was a cabin on one, carrying +a few second-class passengers, and as I was walking along a gangway +between some bales I saw an Englishwoman, holding a child on her lap. +The crouching attitude struck me as familiar; I stopped and spoke +about the weather or something. She looked up, and then I knew where I +had seen that attitude, for it was Dot's mother. I don't think I +should have recognised her--for she was an old woman with grey +hair--but for the remembrance of the changed look which, as you may +recollect, she had when I roused her in the bungalow by touching her +arm. + +"'Is that your child?' I asked courteously, for, poorly dressed as she +was, her face was unmistakably refined. + +"'No!' she replied; and I recognised the somewhat querulous voice. +'It's my granddaughter, but I am as fond of her as if she were my +own--almost.' + +"As she spoke she shifted the child's head higher up on her arm, and I +saw a mass of fluffy light gold curls. + +"'Perhaps she reminds you of your own,' I continued at a venture, +anxious only to make her talk. + +"A faint curiosity came to her worn face. + +"'It's funny you should say so--just as if you had seen our Dot. So +like--so wonderfully like. Sometimes it seems as if she had come back +again, yet it is five-and-twenty years since I lost her.' + +"'That is a long time.' + +"'A long, long time to remember, isn't it? And I've had so many and +lost so many. But I never forgot Dot--she was so pretty! Ah, well! I +daresay it would have been against her, poor lamb. "Favour is +deceitful and beauty is vain."' + +"She lulled the child on her lap to deeper slumber with a gentle +rocking. It seemed to me as if she were soothing regret to sleep also. + +"'She had curls like this one?' I remarked, cruelly anxious to keep +her to the subject. + +"Once more she looked at me with that oddly familiar bewilderment. + +"'I can't think where I've seen you before,' she said after a pause. +'I never met you in those old days, did I? Ah, well! I've lived so +long and travelled so far that I can't remember it all. Sometimes I +seem to forget everything except what I see--and Dot. I never forget +her. Only last month I was coming down the river not far from the +place where the little dear shot herself--she was playing with her +father's revolver, you know--and I seemed to go through it all again. +Her father--he left the Salt soon after--was downright vexed with me +because I fretted so. He said no good could come of remembering grief +so long. But I don't know. I've heard it said that there is only so +much sorrow and happiness in the world; then if one person gets a lot +there must be less trouble left for others. I've held on to my share +anyhow, though maybe, as father says, it isn't any good.' + +"Her tired eyes sought the distant sandhills wistfully and her mouth +trembled a little. + +"Just then the whistle sounded, bidding all stragglers go on board the +steamer. + +"'Good-by,' said I, holding out my hand. 'To-morrow, if I may, I will +come again and tell you what your unforgotten grief did for me.' + +"But next morning I found that the flat had been left at its +destination during the night. That is all." + +There was a long pause. + +"And your explanation?" asked a somewhat tremulous voice from a dark +corner. + +"Gentlemen," said the Major, "I have none to offer. What I know is +this. Somehow--God knows how--I saw that mother's unforgotten grief, +and it saved me from shirking my share." + + + + + THE DOLL-MAKER + + +"Christmas Eve!" echoed Mrs. Langford. "Yes! I suppose it is; but I +had forgotten--there isn't much to remind one of it in India--is +there?" + +As she paused half-way up the verandah steps she glanced back at the +creeper-hung porch where the high spider-cart, in which she had come +home from the club, waited for its owner to return to the box-seat. He +seemed in no hurry to do so, and his glance followed hers as he stood +on the step below her. He was a tall man, so his face was on a level +with hers, and the two showed young, handsome--hers a trifle pale, his +a trifle red. + +There was a stretch of garden visible beyond the creepers. It was not +flowerful, since Christmas, even in India, comes when the tide of sap, +the flow of life, is at its lowest; yet, in the growing dusk, the +great scarlet hands of the poinsettias could be seen thrusting +themselves out wickedly from the leafy shadows as if to clutch the +faint white stars of the oleanders blossoming above them; and there +was a bunch of Maréchal Niel roses in the silver belt of the woman's +white tennis dress, which told of sweeter, more home-like blossom. + +"And it is just as well," she continued, with a bitter little laugh, +"that there isn't, for it's a deadly, dreary time--" + +"All times are dreary," assented the tall man in a low voice, rapidly, +passionately, "when there is no one who cares--" + +"There is my husband," she interrupted, this time with a nervous +laugh. The answer fitted doubly, for she turned to a figure which at +that moment came out of the soft rose-tinted light of the room within, +and said in a faintly fretful tone, "You don't mean to say, George, +surely, that you've been working till now?" + +"Working!" echoed George Langford, absently. "Yes! why not? Ah! is +that you, Campbell? Brought the missus home, like a good chap. Sorry I +couldn't come, my dear; but there was a beastly report overdue, so now +I've only time for a spin on the bicycle before dinner, for I must +have some exercise. By the way, Laura, you'd better send off your home +letter without mine. I really haven't had time to write to the boys +this mail." + +He was busy now, in the same absent, preoccupied, yet energetic way, +in seeing to the machine, which a red-coated servant held for him; but +he looked up quickly at his wife's reply-- + +"I haven't written either." + +"Haven't you? That's a pity," he began, then paused, with a vaguely +unquiet look at her and her tall companion, which merged, however, +into a good-natured smile. "Well, they won't know it was Christmas +mail anyhow. 'Pon my soul I'd forgotten it myself, Campbell, or I'd +have made a point.... But there's the devil of a crush of work just +now, though I shall clear some of the arrears off to-morrow. That's +about the only good of a holiday to me!" He was off as he spoke--a +shadow gliding into the shadows, where the red hands of the +poinsettias and the white stars of the oleanders showed fainter as the +dusk deepened. + +But he left a pair of covetous, entreating hands and a white face +behind him in the verandah, between the rosy light of comfort from +within and the grey gloom of the world without. + +"It cannot go on--this sort of thing--for ever," said the man, still +in that low, passionate voice. "It will kill--" + +"Kill him? Do you think so?" she interrupted, still with that little +half-nervous, half-bitter laugh. "I don't; he's awfully strong and +awfully clever, you know." + +The owner of the dogcart turned to it impatiently. + +"You will come to-morrow at eleven, anyhow," he said, bringing the +patience back to his voice with an effort, for it seemed to him--as it +so often seems to a man--that the woman did not know what she would be +at. "It will be a jolly drive; and, as they are sending out a +mess-tent, we need not come back till late. Your husband said he was +to be busy all day." + +He waited, reins in hand, for an answer. It came after a pause; came +decidedly. + +"Yes; at eleven, please. It will be better anyhow than stopping here. +There isn't even tennis on Christmas Day, you know; and the house +is--is so deadly quiet." She turned to it slowly as she spoke, passed +into the rose light, and stood listening to the sound of the dogcart +wheels growing fainter and fainter. When it had gone an intense +stillness seemed to settle over the wide, empty house--that stillness +and emptiness which must perforce settle round many an Englishwoman in +India; the stillness and emptiness of a house where children have +been, and are not. + +It made her shiver slightly as she stood alone, thinking of the +dogcart wheels. + +Yet just at the back of the screen of poinsettias and oleanders which +hid the servants' quarters from the creeper-hung porch there were +children and to spare. Dozens of them, all ages, all sizes, belonging +to the posse of followers which hangs to the skirts of bureaucracy in +India. + +Here, as the lights of the dogcart flashed by, they lit up for an +instant a quaint little group gathered round a rushlight set on the +ground. It consisted of a very old man, almost naked, with a grey +frost of beard on his withered cheeks, and of a semicircle of +wide-eyed, solemn-faced, brown babies--toddlers of two and three, with +a sprinkling of demure little maidens of four and five. + +The centre of the group lay beside the rushlight. It was a rudimentary +attempt at a rag doll; so rudimentary indeed that as the passing flash +of the lamps disclosed its proportions, or rather the lack of them, a +titter rose from the darkness behind, where some older folk were +lounging. + +The old doll-maker, who was attempting to thread a big packing-needle +by the faint flicker, turned towards the sound in mild reproof: "Lo! +brothers and sisters," he said, "have patience awhile. Even the +Creator takes time to make His puppets, and this of mine will be as +dolls are always when it is done. And a doll is a doll ever, nothing +more, nothing less." + +"Yet thou art sadly behind the world in them, _babajee_," put in a +pale young man, with a pen-box under his arm, who had paused on his +way to the cook-room, whither he was going to write up the daily +account for the butler; since a man must live even if he has a +University degree, and, if Government service be not forthcoming, must +earn a penny or two as best he can. "That sort of image did for the +dark ages of ignorance, but now the mind must have more reality; glass +eyes and such like. The world changes." + +The old man's face took an almost cunning expression by reason of its +self-complacent wisdom. "But not the puppets which play in it, my son. +The Final One makes _them_ in the same mould ever; as I do my dolls, +as my fathers made theirs. Ay! and thine too, _babajee!_ As for eyes, +they come with the sight that sees them, since all things are +illusion. For the rest"--here he shot a glance of fiery disdain at the +titterers--"I make not dolls for these scoffers, but for their +betters. This is for the little masters on their Big Day. To-morrow I +will present it to the _sahib_ and the _mem_, since the little +_sahibs_ themselves are away over the Black Water. For old Premoo +knows what is due. This dust-like one, lame of a leg and blind of an +eye, has not always been a garden coolie--a mere picker of weeds, a +gatherer of dried leaves, saved from starvation by such trivial tasks. +In his youth Premoo hath carried young masters in his bosom, and +guarded them night and day after the manner of bearers. And hath found +amusement for them also; even to the making of dolls as this one. Ay! +it is true," he went on, led to garrulous indignation by renewed +sounds of mirth from behind; "dolls which gave them delight, for they +were not as some folk, black of face, but _sahib logue_ who, by God's +grace, grew to be _ginerâls_ and _jedges_, and commissioners, and--and +even _Lât-sahibs_." + +The old voice, though it rose in pitch with each rise in rank, was not +strong enough to overbear the titter, and the doll-maker paused in +startled doubt to look at his own creation. + +"I can see naught amiss," he muttered to himself; "it is as I used to +make them, for sure." His anxious critical eye lingered almost +wistfully over the bald head, the pincushion body, the sausage limbs +of his creature, yet found no flaw in it; since fingers and toes were +a mere detail, and as for hair, a tuft of wool would settle that +point. What more could folk want, sensible folk, who knew that a doll +must be always a doll--nothing more, nothing less? + +Suddenly a thought came to make him put doubt to the test, and he +turned to the nearest of the solemn-faced, wide-eyed semicircle of +babies. + +"Thou canst dandle it whilst I thread the needle, Gungi," he said +pompously, "but have a care not to injure the child, and let not the +others touch it." + +The solemnity left one chubby brown face, and one pair of chubby brown +hands closed in glad possession round the despised rag doll. Old +Premoo heaved a sigh of relief. + +"Said I not so, brothers and sisters?" he cried exultingly. "My hand +has not lost its art with the years. A doll is a doll ever to a child, +as a child is a child ever to the man and the woman. As for glass +eyes, they are illusion--they perish!" + +"Nevertheless, thou wilt put clothes to it, for sure, brother," +remonstrated the fat butler, who had joined the group, "ere giving it +to the Presences. 'Tis like a skinned fowl now, and bare decent." + +Premoo shook his head mournfully. "Lo! _khângee_, my rags, as thou +seest, scarce run to a big enough body and legs! And the _Huzoor's_ +tailor would give no scraps to Premoo the garden coolie; though in the +old days, when the little masters lay in these arms, and there was +favour to be carried by the dressing of dolls, such as he were ready +to make them, male and female, kings and queens, fairies and heroes, +_mem-sahibs_ and _Lât-sahibs_ after their kind. But it matters not in +the end, _khânjee_, it matters not! The doll is a doll ever to a +child, as a child is a child ever to the man and the woman, though +they know not whether it will wear a crown or a shroud." + +So as Christmas Eve passed into Christmas night, Premoo stitched away +contentedly as he sat under the stars. There was no Christmas message +in them for the old man. The master's Big Day meant nothing to him +save an occasion for the giving of gifts, notably rag dolls! There was +no vision for him in the velvet darkness of the spangled sky of angels +proclaiming the glad tidings of birth; and yet in a way his old heart, +wise with the dim wisdom which long life brings, held the answer to +the great Problem, as in vague self-consolation for the titterings he +murmured to himself now and again: "It is so always; naught matters +but the children, and the children's children." + +And when his task was over, he laid the result for safety on the +basket of withered leaves which he had swept up from the path that +evening, and wrapping himself in his thin cotton shawl, lay down to +sleep in the shelter of the poinsettia and oleander hedge. + +So, the Christmas sun peering through the morning mists shone upon a +quaint _crèche_ indeed--on the veriest simulacrum of a child lying on +a heap of faded red hand-like leaves and white star-like blossoms. +Perhaps it smiled at the sight. Humanity did, anyhow, as it passed and +repassed from the servants' quarters to its work in the house. For in +truth old Premoo's creation looked even more comical in the daylight +than it had by the faint flicker of the lamp. There was something +about it productive of sheer mirth, yet of mirth that was tender. Even +the fat butler, on his way to set breakfast, stopped to giggle +foolishly in its face. + +"God knows what it is like," he said finally. "I deemed it was a +skinned fowl last night, but 'tis not that. It might be anything." + +"Ay!" assented the bearer, who had come out, duster in hand. "That is +just where it comes. A body cannot say what it might or might not be. +Bala Krishna himself, for aught I know." Whereupon he salaamed; and +others passing followed suit, in jest at first, afterwards with a +suspicion of gravity in their mirth, since, when all was said and +done, who knew what anything was really in this illusory world? + +So the rag doll held its levée that Christmas morning, and when the +time came for its presentation to the _Huzoors_ there were curious +eyes watching the old man as he sate with his offering on the lowest +step of the silent, empty house, waiting for the master and mistress +to come out into the verandah. Premoo had covered the doll's bed of +withered flowers with some fresh ones, so it lay in pomp in its +basket, amid royal scarlet and white and gold; nevertheless he waited +till the very last, until the smallest platter of sugar and oranges +and almonds had been ranged at the master's feet, ere he crept up the +steps, salaaming humbly, yet with a vague confidence on his old face. + +"It is for the child-people," he said, in his cracked old voice. "This +dust-like one has nothing else, but a doll is always a doll to them, +as a child is a child to the man and the woman." + +Then for an instant the rag doll lay, as it were, in state, surrounded +by offerings. But not for long. Some one laughed, then another, till +even old Premoo joined doubtfully in the general mirth. + +"The devil is in it," chuckled the fat butler, apologetically; "but +the twelve _Imâms_ themselves would not keep grave over it during the +requiem!" + +"By Jove, Laura," cried George Langford, "we must really send that +home to the kids. It's too absurd!" + +"Yes," she assented, a trifle absently, "we must indeed." She stopped +to take the quaint travesty from its basket, and as she did so one of +the red hands of the poinsettias clung to its sausage legs. She +brushed the flower aside with a smile which broadened to a laugh; for +in truth the thing was more ludicrously comical than ever seen thus, +held in mid-air. George Langford found it so, anyhow, and exploded +into a fresh guffaw. + +She flushed suddenly, and gathered the unshapen thing in her arms as +if to hide it from his laughter. + +"Don't, George," she said, "it--it seems unkind. Thank you, Premoo, +very much. We will certainly send it home to the little masters; and +they, I am sure--" Here her eyes fell upon the doll again, and mirth +got the better of her gravity once more. + +Half-an-hour afterwards, however, as she stood alone in the +drawing-room, ready dressed for her drive, the gravity had returned as +she looked down on the quaint monstrosity spread out on the table, +where on the evening before the rose-shaded lamp had been. It was +ridiculous, certainly, but beneath that there was something else. What +was it? What had the old man said: "A doll is always a doll...." He +had said that and something more: "As the child is always a child to +the man and the woman." It ought to be--but was it? Was not that tie +forgotten, lost sight of in others ... sometimes? + +Half mechanically she took the rag doll, and sitting down on a +rocking-chair laid the caricature on her lap among the dainty frills +and laces of her pretty gown. And this was Christmas Day--the +children's day--she thought vaguely, dreamily, as she rocked herself +backwards and forwards slowly. But the house was empty save for +this--this idea, like nothing really in heaven or earth; yet for all +that giving the Christmas message, the message of peace and goodwill +which the birth of a child into the world should give to the man and +the woman:-- + +"Unto us a child is born." + +She smiled faintly--the thing on her lap seemed so far from such a +memory--and then, with that sudden half-remorseful pity, she once more +gathered the rag doll closer in her arms, as if to shield it from her +own laughter. + +And as she sate so, her face soft and kind, her husband coming into +the room behind her, paused at what he saw. And something that was not +laughter surged up in him; for he understood in a flash, understood +once and for all, how empty his house had been to her, how empty her +arms, how empty her life. + +He crossed to her quickly, but she was on her feet almost defiantly at +the first sight of him. "Ridiculous monster!" she exclaimed, gaily +tossing the doll back on the table. "But it has an uncanny look about +it which fascinates one. Gracious! Where are my gloves? I must have +left them in my room, and I promised to be ready at eleven!" + +When she had gone to look for them, George Langford took up the rag +doll in his turn--took it up gingerly, as men take their babies--and +stared at it almost fiercely. And he stood there, stern, square, +silent, staring at it until his wife came back. Then he walked up to +her deliberately and laid his hands on hers. + +"I'm going to pack this thing up at once, my dear," he said, "and take +it over this morning to little Mrs. Greville. She starts this +afternoon, you know, to catch the Messageries steamer. She'll take it +home for us; and so the boys could have it by the Christmas mail, +which I forgot." + +The words were commonplace, but there was a world of meaning in the +tone. + +"I--I thought you were busy," she said indistinctly, after a pause in +which the one thing in the world seemed to her that tightening hold +upon her hand. "If you are--I--I could go...." + +There was another pause--a longer one. + +"I thought you were going out," he said at last, and his voice, though +distinct, was not quite steady; "but if you aren't, we might go +together. My work can easily stand over, and--and Campbell can drive +you out some other day when I can't." + +She gave an odd little sound between a laugh and a sob. + +"That would be best, perhaps," she said. "I'd like the boys to have +this"--she laid her other hand tenderly on the rag doll--"by the +Christmas mail I had forgotten." + +Old Premoo was sweeping up the withered leaves and flowers from the +poinsettia and oleander hedge, when first one and then another high +dogcart drove past him. And when the second one had disappeared, he +turned to the general audience on the other side of the hedge, and +said with great pride and pomp-- + +"Look you! The scoffers mocked at my doll, but the _Huzoors_ +understand. The _sahib_ himself has taken it to send to the little +_sahibs_, and the _mem_ packed it up herself and went with him, +instead of going in the Captain _sahib's_ dogcart. That is because a +doll is always a doll; as for glass eyes and such like, they perish." + +And with that he crushed a handful of withered red poinsettias into +the rubbish basket triumphantly. + + + + + THE SKELETON TREE + + +The engine was conscientiously climbing to the level plateau which +stretches between Bhopal and Bandakui, when I heard this story. + +Ten minutes before, apparently for no other purpose save to supply the +first-class passengers with their early cup of tea, the mail train had +stopped at a desolate little station which consisted of a +concrete-arched, oven-like shed, made still more obtrusively unfitted +for the wilderness in which it stood by a dejected bottle-gourd +striving to climb up it. + +Here a wistful-faced old man in spotless white raiment had appeared in +the dawn with a tray of tea and toast. There were four cups of tea and +only two passengers; myself and a man who had already been asleep on +one side of the carriage when I took possession of the other at +Bhopal. So we saw each other for the first time as we sate up in our +sleeping suits among our blankets and pillows. As the train moved on, +in a series of dislocations which sent half my tea into my saucer, we +left the wistful old face looking at the two unsold cups of tea +regretfully, and I wished I had bought the lot. It seemed such a +pathetic group to leave there in the wilderness, backed by a European +oven and a climbing gourd. + +And it was a wilderness. Miles and miles of it all the same. Piles of +red rocks, blackened on the upper surface, scattered, as if they had +been shot from a cart, among dry bents and stunted bushes; curious +bushes with a plenitude of twig and a paucity of leaf. Here and there +was a still more stunted tree with a paucity of both: a rudimentary +tree, splay, gouty, with half-a-dozen or so of kidney-shaped lobes in +place of foliage, parched, dusty, unwholesome. + +Not a level country, but one dented into causeless dells, raised into +irrelevant hillocks; both, however, trending almost imperceptibly +upwards, so that the eye, deceived by this, imagined greater things on +the horizon. + +But there was nothing. Only here and there a bigger patch of charred +and blackened bents, telling where a spark from a passing train had +found a wider field for fire than usual, unchecked by the piles of red +rocks. That, then, was the secret of their blackened surface. + +It was too still in that hot windless dawn for flame, but as we sped +on, we added to the dull trails of smoke creeping slowly among the +stones and bushes, each with a faint touch of fire showing like an eye +to the snaky curves behind. A sinister-looking landscape, indeed, to +unaccustomed eyes like mine. I sate watching those stealthy, +fire-tipped fingers in the grass, till at a curve in the line, due to +a steeper rise, I saw something. "What on earth's that?" I cried +involuntarily. + +"What's what?" returned my unknown companion, in such a curious tone +of voice that, involuntarily, I turned to him for a moment. + +"That--that tree I suppose it is," I began; "but look for yourself." + +I turned back to the sight which had startled me, and gave a low gasp. +It was gone. On more level ground we were steaming quickly past a very +ordinary dent of a dell, where, as usual, one of these stunted +rudimentary trees stood on an open patch of dry bents, seamed and +seared by fire trails. + +I looked at my companion incredulously. "What an extraordinary thing!" +I exclaimed. "I could have sworn that I saw--" I paused from sheer +astonishment. + +"What?" asked the other passenger, curiously. + +"What?" I echoed. "That is just the question. It looked like a tree--a +skeleton tree. Absolutely white, with curved ribs of branches--and +there were tongues of flame." I paused again, looking out on what we +were passing. "It must, of course," I continued, "have been some +curious effect of light on that stunted tree yonder. Its branches +_are_ curved like ribs, and, if you notice, the bark _is_ lighter." + +"Exactly," assented my companion. Then he told me a long botanical +name, and pointed out that there were many such trees or bushes in the +low jungle, all distinctly to be seen against the darker kinds, +distinctly but not blindingly like that curious effect of dawn-light I +had seen. + +I had, however, almost forgotten my vision, as, thus started, we +talked over our tea, when he suddenly said, "Going on to Agra, I +suppose?" + +"No," I replied, "I'm globe-trotting for sport. I'm going to spend +all I can of my return-ticket in these jungles after leopard and +tiger. I hear it's first-class if you don't mind letting yourself +go--getting right away from the beaten track and all that. I mean to +get hold of a jungle tribe if I can--money's no object, and--" + +I ran on, glad to detail plans for what had been a long-cherished +dream of mine, when my companion arrested me by the single word-- + +"Don't." + +It was in consequence of my surprise that he told me the following +story:-- + +"I surveyed this railway ten years ago. The country was very much the +same as it is now, except that it was all, naturally, off the beaten +track. There were two of us in camp together, Graham and myself. He +was a splendid chap; keen as mustard on everything. It did not matter +what it was. So that one day, when he and I were working out levels +after late breakfast, he jumped up like a shot--just as if he had not +been tramping over these cursed rubbish shoots of red rocks for six +hours--at the sound of a feeble whimpering near the cook-room tent. + +"'That devil of yours is at it again,' he said, 'and I won't have it, +that's all!' + +"As he went off I followed, for I did not relish Graham's justice when +it disabled the cook. + +"But this time I owned that the brute deserved punishment, for a more +forlorn little tragedy than that which was being enacted among the +pots and pans I never saw. + +"Mohubbut Khan, chief villain, was seated--naked to the waist, bald as +to head, after the manner of native cooks at work, on a low reed +stool, brandishing a knife in one hand, while the other held a +skrawking leggy white cock. + +"Exactly in front of him was a group more suggestive of monkeys +than men. It consisted of a very old man, wizened, bandy-legged, +bandy-armed, whose white teeth showed in animal perfection as he +howled, and a child of the same build, clinging to him convulsively, +all legs, and arms, and shrieks. + +"Between them and the cook stood Graham. He was a big fellow; fair as +you are. In fact you are rather like him. There was a moment's pause, +during which the old anatomy's voice rose in plaintive howls of +resignation. + +"'Lo! sonling, be comforted. Death comes to all, even to white cocks. +It is but a few years. And grand-dad will hatch another. It is a +sacrifice. Sacrifice to the _sahib logue_ who bring death as they +choose!' + +"Well, it turned out, of course, to be a case of wanton cruelty. It +always is. For hopeless inability to be considerate commend me to a +native jack-in-office. There were fifty other fowls in the +neighbouring village, but nothing would serve the underling whose duty +it was to collect supplies, but that this wretched child's pet should +serve for the _Huzoor's_ dinner. The old man's joy when it was +released was purely pitiable. He would have reared another for his +grandson, he asserted garrulously; ay! even to the hatching of an egg +from the very beginning, with toil by day and night. But only the +Great God knew if the child's heart would have gone out to the chick +as it had to the cock, for the heart was capricious. It was not to be +counted upon, since the Great God made some men, yea! even some +_Huzoors_, different from others. He looked from Graham to me as he +spoke, and somehow I felt small. So as Graham was evidently master of +the situation, I slunk back to my work. + +"There were sounds of woe thereinafter from the cook-room tent, and +Graham himself supervised the dinner that night, in order, he +explained somewhat apologetically, that I might not suffer from his +conceptions of duty. + +"It was two days after this, and we had shifted camp fifteen miles, +when, having occasion to go into Graham's tent after dark, I stumbled +over some one sitting among the corner tent-pegs. It was the grandpapa +of the white cock, and he explained to me in his lingo--for he was one +of the jungle people--that he had come in exchange for that precious +bird. One life or another mattered little. Grim-_sahib_ had spared the +child's heart's joy, which was now living with him in the maternal +mansion. There being, therefore, no necessity for the occupation of +hatching eggs, he, Bunder--yea! of a surety, it was the same name as +that of the monkey people--had come to do service to the _Huzoors_ +instead of the white cock. + +"That was absolutely all I could get out of him. So for days and weeks +he followed us. He was useful in his way, especially to Graham, who +had a passion not only for sport, but for all sorts of odd knowledge." + +I remember interrupting here that that was half the pleasure of new +surroundings, to which my fellow-traveller replied drily that he had +expected I would say so, as I really reminded him very much of Graham. + +"This passion of his, however, led him into being a bit reckless, and +as the hot weather came on he began to get touched up by fever. Still, +he continued working during the off days, and seemed little the worse +until one evening when he went to bed with the shivers after a leopard +hunt. Then old Bunder crept over to my tent. + +"'Grim-_sahib_ must go home across the Black Water at once, _Huzoor_,' +he said quietly, 'or his bones will whiten the jungle. He has seen the +Skeleton Tree.' + +"That was, in essence, all he had to say, though his explanations were +lengthy. It was simply a Skeleton Tree, and it was always seen where +fire fingers met; but those who saw it became skeletons in the jungle +before long unless they possessed a certain talisman. There were such +talismans among the hill tribes, and those who fell sick of fever +always wore one if they could compass it. That was not often, since +they were rare. He himself had one, but what use was it when life, +from old age, had become no more worth than a white cock's? So his +grandson wore it; wore it as he fed the joy of his heart peacefully in +the ancestral home; thanks to Grim-_sahib!_ + +"'But how do you know he saw the Tree?' I asked. + +"'It was when we had crawled up nigh the end of a dip, _Huzoor_,' +replied Bunder. 'He looked up and said, "What's that?" And when I +asked him what he had seen, he said: "It is gone. It must have been +that stunted tree. But it looked like a skeleton, and there were fire +fingers round it." So I knew. Send him home, _Huzoor_, away from its +power, or his bones will whiten the jungle.' + +"During the following days I really began--though I'm not an +imaginative chap--to feel a bit queer about things. Graham couldn't +shake off his fever, and more than once when he was delirious in the +evenings he would startle me by saying, 'What's that?' But he would +laugh the next moment, and add, 'Only a tree, of course; it was the +light.' + +"There was no doctor within miles; and, besides, it was not really +such a bad case as all that. At least it didn't seem so to me or to +Graham himself. Only to old Bunder, who became quite a nuisance with +his warnings, so that I was glad when, after a confused rigmarole +about white cocks and sacrifices, he disappeared one day and was seen +no more. Partly, perhaps, because we moved back to a higher camp in +the hopes of escaping the malaria. + +"But we didn't. Graham grew appreciably worse. He was fairly well by +day; it was at night that the fever seemed to grip him. I used to sit +up with him till twelve or one o'clock, and then turn in till about +dawn, when the servants had orders to call me, and I would go over and +see after him again. + +"But one day, or rather night, it was still quite dark when my bearer +roused me with his persistent drone of '_Saheeb, saheeb!_' and I knew +in an instant something was wrong. Graham, shortly after I left him, +had got out of bed, dressed himself in his shikar clothes, taken his +gun, and gone away from the camp. His bearer, a lad whom he had +promoted to the place in one of his impulsive generous fits of revolt +against things unjustifiable, had failed to take alarm until his +master's prolonged absence had made him seek and rouse my man. The +latter was full of apologies; but what else, he protested, could be +expected of babes and sucklings promoted out of due season? The babe +and suckling meanwhile was blubbering incoherently, and asserting that +he was not to blame. The _sahib_ had called for Bunder and Bunder had +come; and they had gone off together. + +"'Bunder?' I exclaimed. 'Impossible! He hasn't been near the camp for +days. Did any one else see him?' But no one had. And as there was no +time to be lost in inquiries I dismissed the idea as an attempt on the +boy's part to relieve himself from responsibility, and organised the +whole camp into a search party. + +"It was a last-quarter moon, and I shall never forget the eeriness of +that long, fruitless search. At first I kept calling 'Graham, Graham!' +but after a time I felt this to be useless, and that he must be either +unconscious, or delirious, or determined to keep out of our way. So I +pushed on and on in silence, through the bushes and bents, expecting +the worst. But after all it was the best. We found him at dawn lying +under one of those stunted trees fast asleep. So sound asleep that he +did not wake when we carried him back to camp on a litter of boughs. +So sound that it was not until the afternoon, when he stirred and +asked for beef-tea, that I discovered he wore round his neck a plaited +cord of dirty red silk with a small bag attached to it. + +"'How the deuce did that come there?' he asked drowsily, putting his +hand up to feel it. How, indeed? He could never explain; and the bag +held nothing but a bit of blank paper folded into four. He took the +thing to England with him when he went home on sick leave the next +month, and so far as I know is no wiser than he was then as to how it +came round his neck." + +Here my fellow-traveller paused, as a whistle from the engine told we +were pulling up again. "Well," I said, a trifle plaintively, "but why +should not I?" + +He was already standing on the platform among a miscellaneous pile of +belongings, such as Indian travellers delight to carry about with +them, ere he replied:-- + +"Good-by. Glad to have met you--for you remind me awfully of Graham!" + +I sometimes wonder if I should have taken his warning seriously or +treated it as a traveller's tale. As it was, I had not the chance of +testing its truth. For, at my destination, I found a telegram +recalling me to England on urgent business. So, beyond that passing +glimpse of the Skeleton Tree, I have no experience. + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's In the Guardianship of God, by Flora Annie Steel + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE GUARDIANSHIP OF GOD *** + +***** This file should be named 39795-8.txt or 39795-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/7/9/39795/ + +Produced by Charles Bowen. from page scans provided by +Google Books (Harvard University) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: In the Guardianship of God + +Author: Flora Annie Steel + +Release Date: May 25, 2012 [EBook #39795] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE GUARDIANSHIP OF GOD *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Bowen. from page scans provided by +Google Books (Harvard University) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Notes:<br> +<br> +1. Page scan source:<br> +<br> +http://books.google.com/books?id=uj6lOyePLCYC<br> +(Harvard University)<br> +<br> +2. "a" with a macron above by [=a] or +font face="Courier New" 257;</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>In the Guardianship of God</h2> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h1>In the Guardianship<br> +<br> +of God</h1> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h5>BY</h5> +<br> +<h2>FLORA ANNIE STEEL</h2> + +<h5>AUTHOR OF "ON THE FACE OF THE WATERS," "VOICES OF<br> +THE NIGHT," "HOSTS OF THE LORD," ETC.</h5> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h4>New York</h4> + +<h3>THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</h3> + +<h3><span class="sc2">LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., Ltd.</span></h3> + +<h4>1903</h4> + +<h5><i>All rights reserved</i></h5> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h4><span class="sc2">Copyright, 1908</span>,<br> +<span class="sc">By</span> THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</h4> +<br> +<hr class="W10"> +<br> +<h5>Set up, electrotyped, and published May, 1903.</h5> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h4>Norwood Press<br> +<span class="sc2">J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.</span><br> +Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.</h4> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<br> +<p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_god" href="#div1_god"><span class="sc">In the Guardianship of God.</span></a></p> +<br> +<p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_bad" href="#div1_bad"><span class="sc">A Bad-character Suit.</span></a></p> +<br> +<p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_fire" href="#div1_fire"><span class="sc">Fire and Ice.</span></a></p> +<br> +<p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_shah" href="#div1_shah"><span class="sc">The Shâhbâsh Wallah.</span></a></p> +<br> +<p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_most" href="#div1_most"><span class="sc">The Most Nailing Bad Shot in Creation.</span></a></p> +<br> +<p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_wife" href="#div1_wife"><span class="sc">The Reformer's Wife.</span></a></p> +<br> +<p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_square" href="#div1_square"><span class="sc">The Squaring of the Gods.</span></a></p> +<br> +<p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_keeper" href="#div1_keeper"><span class="sc">The Keeper of the Pass.</span></a></p> +<br> +<p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_rose" href="#div1_rose"><span class="sc">The Perfume of the Rose.</span></a></p> +<br> +<p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_henry" href="#div1_henry"><span class="sc">Little Henry and his Bearer.</span></a></p> +<br> +<p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_hall" href="#div1_hall"><span class="sc">The Hall of Audience.</span></a></p> +<br> +<p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_fog" href="#div1_fog"><span class="sc">In a Fog.</span></a></p> +<br> +<p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_gold" href="#div1_gold"><span class="sc">Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh.</span></a></p> +<br> +<p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_sur" href="#div1_sur"><span class="sc">Surâbhi.</span></a></p> +<br> +<p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_salt" href="#div1_salt"><span class="sc">On the Old Salt Road.</span></a></p> +<br> +<p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_doll" href="#div1_doll"><span class="sc">The Doll-maker.</span></a></p> +<br> +<p class="hang1"><a name="div1Ref_tree" href="#div1_tree"><span class="sc">The Skeleton Tree.</span></a></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_god" href="#div1Ref_god">IN THE GUARDIANSHIP OF GOD</a></h2> +<br> + +<p class="normal">"Dittu Sansi, aged twenty-one, theft, six months," read out the +overseer of the gaol, who was introducing a batch of new arrivals to +the doctor in charge of a large gaol in the Upper Provinces of India. +It was early morning. Outside the high mud walls, which looked like +putty and felt like rock, the dew was frosting the grass in the garden +where a few favoured criminals were doing the work of oxen for the +well-wheel, and turning the runnels of fresh water to the patches of +spinach and onion. But here, inside the gaol square, everything had +the parched, arid look of sun-baked mud. Not a speck was to be seen +anywhere; the very prisoners themselves, standing in a long line +awaiting inspection, with their dust-coloured blankets folded upon the +ground in front of them, looked like darker clay images waiting to be +put on their pedestals. There was a touch of colour, however, close to +the arched gateway. First, a red-turbaned warder or two, guarding the +wicket; then half-a-dozen constables in yellow trousers, and a +deputy-inspector of police smart in silver laces and fringes; finally +the gaol <i>darogah</i>, or overseer, a stoutish, good-looking Mahomedan +with a tendency to burst out, wherever it was possible, into gay +muslin, and decorate the edges of his regulation white raiment with +fine stitchings. These, with a nondescript group fresh from the +lock-up, were gathered about the plain deal table set in full sunlight +where the Doctor sate, ticking off each arrival on the roster. He +matched the gaol, being dressed from head to foot in dust-coloured +drill, with a wide pith hat which might have been carved out of the +putty walls.</p> + +<p class="normal">"All right, <i>Darogah</i>," he said with a yawn. "Number five hundred and +seven. Go on,--what's the matter?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Shurruf Deen, the Overseer, was looking intently at the paper in his +hand, and the rich brown of his complacent face seemed to have faded a +little. "Nothing, <i>Huzoor</i>," he replied glibly enough, though a quick +observer might have seen the muscles of his brown throat labouring +over the syllables. "The list is badly written, in the broken +character. Thou shouldst speak to the clerk in thine office, +Inspector-<i>jee</i>; this name is almost illegible."</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Tis Shureef, clear enough, <i>Darogah-jee</i>," dissented the Inspector, +huffily; "and I should have thought it fits thine own name too close +for--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Shureef," read out Shurruf, the Overseer, brusquely, "Shureef, Khoja, +thirty-five, lurking house trespass by night, habitual offender, ten +years."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Doctor looked up sharply. Ten years meant business; one can teach +a lot in ten years--carpet-weaving, wood-carving, pottery-making--and +the Doctor's hobby was his gaol. What he saw was a man, looking many +years older than his age, haggard and grey, yet despite this with a +lightness and suppleness in every limb. Though this figure was lean +where the Overseer was fat, wrinkled where the Overseer showed smooth, +there was a similarity in the rich colour of their skins, in the +regularity of their features, which made the Englishman turn to look +at the <i>Darogah</i> with the mental remark that the race-characteristics +of India were very instructive; for Shurruf was a Khoja also. "All +right," said the Doctor. "Number five hundred and eight."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Five hundred and eight," repeated the habitual offender, calmly. "I +will not forget. Salaam, <i>Huzoor!</i> Salaam, <i>Darogah-jee!</i>"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you know the man?" asked the Doctor quickly of his subordinate; he +was sharp as a needle, and there had been a note in the salutation +which he did not understand.</p> + +<p class="normal">"He was in for two years when I was sub-overseer at Loodhiana, +<i>Huzoor</i>," replied Shurruf, imperturbably. "He gave much trouble +there; he will not here, since the Doctor-<i>sahib</i> knows how to manage +such as he."</p> + +<p class="normal">Once more there was an undertone, but the Doctor's attention was +riveted by the adroit flattery, and he rose to begin his inspection +with a smile. It was true; he did know how to manage a gaol, and there +could not possibly be any cause for complaint when he was there to +apportion each ounce of food scientifically, to rout every germ, every +microbe, and treat even contumacy as a disease. The five hundred and +odd prisoners were, as it were, the Doctor's chessmen. He marshalled +them this way and that, checkmating their vile souls and bodies while +they were in his care. If they passed out of it into their own, he +took no heed. They might make what they liked of themselves. But if +they died, and, as the phrase runs, chose the Guardianship of God, he +buried them temporarily in the gaol graveyard with all possible +sanitary precautions, against the time when relations or friends might +appear to claim the corpse. There was no official regulation as to the +limit of time within which such claim could be preferred; but as a +dead body remains in the special Guardianship of God for a year, it +was an understood thing that man should take over the task before the +Almighty gave up the job; it was more satisfactory, especially if the +corpse was a Hindu and had to be burned. As for the Doctor, he would +have preferred to burn the lot, Hindu and Mahomedan alike; failing +that, he--took precautions.</p> + +<p class="normal">As he walked down the line rapidly his sharp eye noted every detail, +and Shurruf Deen had many a swift, probing question to answer. He +answered them, however, as swiftly, for he was the best gaoler +conceivable; so good that even the Doctor allowed that he was almost +capable of managing the gaol himself. A man of unimpeachable +character, he had yet a curious insight into the minds of the +criminals he guarded, and a singular tact in managing them, so that +his record of continual rise in the world seemed likely to lengthen +itself by an appointment to the most important gaolership in the +Province. Shurruf Deen was working all he knew to secure this, and +therefore, as he followed the Doctor, his keen, bold eyes were +everywhere forestalling the possibility of blame. They fell, among +other things, on Shureef's thin, somewhat bowed figure, as it was +marched off to be shaved, washed, manacled, and dressed to pattern. +Then they turned almost mechanically to the paper he still held. +<i>Shureef Deen, Khoja--ten years' hard--three months' solitary</i>. He +gave a faint sigh of relief. Solitary confinement, even when broken up +by philanthropy into blocks of a week, gave time. It meant many +ameliorations to a prisoner's lot which would be unsafe amid the ruck. +Besides no man, he told himself, would be fool enough to risk losing +these favours simply to spite another man.</p> + +<p class="normal">He repeated this thought aloud that same evening, after lights were +out, and the silence of solitary cells lay all over the gaol, save in +one of the latter, where Shurruf sate whispering to Shureef. In the +utter darkness the curious similarity of the place to a wild beast's +cage, with its inner grating-barred cubicle and its outer high-walled +yard let open to the sky, was lost, and the two men might have been +anywhere. Shurruf, however, sate on the millstones, as being more +suited to his figure, while Shureef crouched on the ground beside the +little heap of corn he was bound to give back ounce for ounce in flour +and bran. And as he crouched, leaning listlessly against the wall, his +supple hand moved among the wheat raising it idly, and as idly letting +it slip back through his thin fingers.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Fate!" he echoed to something the other said; "nay, 'twas not Fate, +brother, which sent me to thy gaol. I was hard pressed; I am growing +old for the life; it kills men soon. The police would have had me in +the big <i>dacoity</i> case at Delhi despite all; so I bungled one farther +north, to come--where thou wast--brother."</p> + +<p class="normal">"And thou didst right," assented Shurruf, eagerly; "I can make things +easy for thee."</p> + +<p class="normal">The wheat slipped with a soft patter, like rain, through Shureef's +fingers. "'Twas not that either which brought me to thy gaol. Listen. +I am far through this life, but another begins. I am not going to +plead <i>guilty</i> there. It is <i>not guilty</i> there, <i>not guilty</i> on +the +first count, <i>not guilty</i> as a lad of fifteen for theft--" He paused, +then a faint curiosity came to his listlessness and he looked at the +half-seen figure beside him--"and such a theft! I--I have not done so +mean a one--since--"</p> + +<p class="normal">Shurruf moved uneasily. "Mayhap not; boys do things men do not. And I +have always--yea! thou knowest it--upheld thee better than some think. +What then? Thy life is past amendment now, save for tobacco and such +like; and these I will give, if thou art wise, for the ten years--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I shall not live three months of the ten years, brother," interrupted +Shureef, calmly; and at the words a pang of regret that the solitary +confinement could not be inflicted straight on end shot through +Shurruf's breast, killing the faint remorse the remark had awakened; +it would have simplified matters so much to have Shureef safe from the +possibility of tale-bearing for those three months. "And, as I said, I +want none of these things," went on Shureef; "I only want the truth. +Promise to tell it, and I say naught; wilt promise, brother?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No!" whispered Shurruf, fiercely. "What good would it do now?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It would make some mourn for me; it would make more than cursing +follow me; it would be evidence for me, a boy, at the Great Court."</p> + +<p class="normal">The sleek face beside the anxious one took a strange expression, half +joy, half fear. "That is fools' talk. Doth not the Lord know, is He +not just?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, He knows," persisted Shureef; "but others must know, else they +will not claim my body, else my grave will not be cooled with tears. +It would not harm thee much, Shurruf. Mayhap 'twould be wiser for thee +not to seek advancement, since one, who might hear if the truth were +told, seeks it also; but if thou stayest in this fat post--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Peace, fool!" interrupted Shurruf, passionately. "I will not. Thou +hast no proof, so do thy worst. Thou canst claim me brother if thou +wilt, naught else--" Shureef bent forward and whispered a name in his +ear, making him start back. "It is not true," he went on rapidly; "he +died long since. Think not I do not understand, that I cannot follow +thy evil thoughts. Have I not watched thee these twenty years? Have I +not seen thee sink, and sink, and sink? Can I not guess thy guile--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Because it should have been thine own, Shurruf," interrupted his +brother in a new tone. "But let that be. It matters not. I asked this +thing of thee that thou mightest do it freely; if not, I take it--for +I can take it now. I give thee a fortnight to consider; till then I +have no more to say, and thy words will be wasted."</p> + +<p class="normal">He rose, feeling his way by the wall to the inner cell, and Shurruf, +after pausing a moment uncertainly, stole from the outer one, locking +the door behind him. There were stronger arguments than words at his +command, and he had a fortnight wherein to use them. And use them he +did, unsparingly. The week of solitary confinement which followed, and +the week of work in the general ward, were alternately hell and +comparative heaven; a hell of scant food, work beyond limit, and +punishments; a heaven of tobacco, opium, even a nip of country liquor +now and then; and, as a foretaste of favours to come, there was a day +of work in the gaol-gardens among the cool runnels of water and the +spinach-patches. For the Doctor, having small faith in things beyond +his ken, was dividing the dead who were in the Guardianship of God, +from the living who were in his own; in other words, he was enclosing +a new graveyard beyond the garden, and as this involved work in the +absolute open air, with greater chance of escape, the good-conduct men +from the walled garden were drafted outwards, and their place supplied +from within. But neither fifteen lashes, nor the privilege of smoking +surreptitiously behind a thicket of jasmine and roses, tempted Shureef +from the settled resolve which gave his face a curiously spiritual +look. The Doctor called it something else, and in the private list he +kept of those in his care, put the name of an incurable disease +opposite Shureef's, with this after it: <i>? three months</i>--and he did +not try to teach him carpet-weaving or pottery-making.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Overseer, however, felt that three months was all too long for +him, when, another week of solitary confinement coming round, he +slipped over in the dead of night to Shureef's cell, and found him +once more fingering the corn idly; but as it was a moonlight night +now, he could see the grains of wheat, shining like gold, slip through +the lean fingers.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is not much I ask, brother," persisted Shureef, almost gently; +"only that the home folk may claim my body when I die. That is why I +came to thy gaol; for they will not, if the truth be not told, and +only thou canst tell it without flaw. True, I can harm thee, but I +have no wish for that. See! I give thee yet another week for thought. +That is three from three months; but I give no more."</p> + +<p class="normal">Shurruf Deen went back to his quarters over the big entrance-gate, +where the warders waited on him as if he were a prince, and pondered +over the dilemma in a white heat of indignation. It was so selfish of +Shureef; when God knew, what were a few tears more or less when a man +had deliberately cast away his right to wailing a dozen times over? +What Shureef had said about the first count was true, but what of the +others? What right had he to claim any compensation for that first +injustice? What right had he even to claim commiseration for the +result of a life he had chosen? Yet the Doctor gave it him; he even +ordered him back to the garden after a day or two, with the remark to +the native assistant-surgeon that it was a case of the candle of life +having been burned at both ends. "He might live a year," he said +critically, "but I give him three months; and, of course, he might +drop down dead any day."</p> + +<p class="normal">He might; if he only would before the week was out, thought Shurruf, +longingly. It would save so much trouble, for though the whole truth +could easily be shirked, it would scarcely be possible to deny the +relationship, or hush up his own share in the youthful escapade. For +there had been sufficient for him to be dismissed by the magistrate +with a reprimand for keeping bad company; and this, added to the +scandal of a notorious criminal claiming kin to him, would militate +against promotion. If Shureef would only drop down dead!</p> + +<p class="normal">He did. The very day before the week was up he was shot in an +organized attempt at escape on the part of five or six prisoners, who +saw their opportunity in the temporary freedom of garden-work. A very +determined attempt it was, involving violence, in which Shurruf gained +fresh laurels by his promptness in ordering the sentry to fire. One +man was wounded in the arm, and broke his leg in falling back from the +wall he was scaling. Shureef was picked up quite dead behind the +thicket of jasmine and rose. As two or three shots had been fired in +that direction, it was possible it might have been an accident, and +that he was not really one of the plotters; on the other hand both +opium and tobacco were found upon him, proof positive that he had +friends in the gaol. And though the warder, who had connived at the +attempt at escape, and now pleaded guilty in the hope of lessening +punishment, swore that Shureef was not in the plot, he had nothing to +reply when Shurruf asked him for the name of any other gaol official +who tampered with his duty.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Poor devil!" said the Doctor, musingly, as he finished the necessary +examination. "He was a fool to try--if he did; the run would have +finished him to a certainty. Even the excitement of being in the fun +might have killed him without anything else, for it was worse than I +thought; his heart was mere tissue-paper."</p> + +<p class="normal">Once more the Overseer's rich brown skin seemed to fade, though he was +glib enough with his tongue. "He is to be buried tonight?" he asked +easily.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The sooner the better. <i>His</i> friends aren't likely to want him back; +but all the same put him in the new yard." The Doctor's hand, as he +drew up the sheet, finally lingered a bit. "If--if he wanted to get +outside, he may as well, poor devil!"</p> + +<p class="normal">So in the cool of the evening Shureef, wrapped in a white cloth, was +taken from a solitary cell and given into the Guardianship of God in +the sun-baked patch of earth where he was the first to lie. It was a +desolate patch, bare of everything save a white efflorescence of salt, +showing, as the warder remarked cynically, that it was only fit for +corpses. Not even for them, dissented the diggers, who, with leg-irons +clanking discordantly, lingered over their task while Shureef, a +still, white roll of cloth, waited their pleasure. The soil, they +said, was much harder than in the old place, and if folk were to be +dug up as well as buried--not that any would want the expense of +moving Shureef, whose name was a byword--here the Overseer's portly +figure showed in the adjoining garden, and they hurried on with their +work.</p> + +<p class="normal">Shurruf did not come over to the grave, however, perhaps because he +was in a demi-toilet of loose muslin, without his turban, and in +charge of his little son, a pretty child of four, whom the obsequious +gardener had presented with a bunch of jasmine and roses, and who, +after a time becoming bored by his father's interest in the spinach +and onions, drifted on by himself to find something more attractive, +until he came to stand wide-eyed and curious in the mourners' place at +the head of the grave. And there he stood silent, watching the +proceedings and keeping a tight clutch on his flowers, until a hand +from behind, dragging him back passionately, sent a shower of earth +over the edge on to Shureef's body which had just been laid in its +last resting-place, and sent also a bunch of roses and jasmines to lie +close to Shureef's heart, for the child dropped them in his fright.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Weep not, my prince!" cried the warder. "Thou shalt have them again. +Here, some one, go down and hand them up."</p> + +<p class="normal">But Shurruf, the Overseer, who, with his little son clutched up in his +arms, stood now in the mourners' place, his face almost grey, turned +on the man with a curse. "Let the flowers lie," he said; "there are +plenty more in the garden." So, without another word, he left them to +fill up the grave; and they, having done it, left Shureef with the +flowers on his breast to the Guardianship of God.</p> + +<p class="normal">And there he stayed month after month, until the year drew close to +its end. And Shurruf Deen stayed in the gaol, for, after all, the man +whose place he had hoped to get was allowed another year's extension +of service. Perhaps it was the deferred hope which told on the +Overseer's nerves; but certain it is that the passing months brought a +strange look of anxiety to his face. Perhaps it was that, though he +had set aside much, he could not quite set aside the thought of that +bunch of roses and jasmine which his little son's hand had thrown upon +Shureef's breast. Something there was in his mind without a doubt, +which made him, but a few weeks before the Guardianship of God must +end, and before the momentous question of promotion must be decided, +steal out more than once at night to Shureef's solitary grave, as he +had stolen to his solitary cell. But the memory of the still, white +roll of cloth with the flowers upon it, touched him more closely than +the memory of the listless figure letting the wheat-grains slip +through its idle fingers. Why it should have done so it were hard to +say. Fear had something to do with it--sheer superstition that when +the Guardianship of God was over, the uncared-for body might fall into +the keeping of the devil and torment him. Love had its part too; love, +and a vague remorse born more of the chance which had made his little +son chief mourner, than of a sense of personal guilt. Plainly it did +not do to try and escape the tie of kindred altogether.</p> + +<p class="normal">So, by degrees, the thought grew that it would indeed be safer for +Shureef to pass into other guardianship before God's ended. He had +asked for nothing, save that his grave might be cooled by tears; if +this could be compassed, surely he ought to be satisfied, ought to +forget everything else and leave his kindred in peace. And it might be +compassed with care. Shureef's mother--not his own, for they had only +been half-brothers--was alive, alive and blind, and poor too, since +his father, stung by his son's disgrace, had sent her back to her own +people. Poor, blind, and a mother! Here was material ready to his +hand. It would not cost half a month's pay, even with the expenses of +moving the body; and then--yes, then, when they were no longer needed, +those flowers, even if they were dust, as they must be, could be taken +away and forgotten.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was the anniversary of Shureef's burial, and in the cool of the +evening the clanking leg-irons were once more at work upon his grave; +for, much to the Doctor's disgust, an old woman had put in an +appearance at the last moment with unimpeachable credentials of +relationship and sufficient cash to convey the remains to her village. +There was, as Shurruf, the Overseer, said regretfully, no valid excuse +for refusal, and the Doctor-<i>sahib</i> might rely upon his doing all +things decently and in order, and on strict sanitary principles. +Whereupon the Doctor had smiled grimly, and said that in cases of +resurrection there was safety in extremes.</p> + +<p class="normal">Nevertheless, it was the love of horrors, no doubt, which made the +gathering round the opening grave so large. The old woman sate in the +mourners' place, her tears flowing already. The others, however, +talked over probabilities, and told tales of former disinterments with +cheerful realism, while Shurruf Deen bustled backwards and forwards +among his elaborate arrangements.</p> + +<p class="normal">They dug down to one side of the original grave after approved +fashion, so that there should be as little disturbance as possible, +and when traces of what was sought showed in a fold of still, white +shroud, extra cloths were sent down, in which, covering as they +exposed, the workmen gradually swathed all that was mortal of the dead +<i>dacoit</i>.</p> + +<p class="normal">"He hath not lost much weight," said those at the ropes as they +hauled.</p> + +<p class="normal">So there the task was done, decently and in order. But Shurruf wanted +something which he knew must still lie within the brand-new shroud, +and, ere they lifted the gruesome bundle to the coffin awaiting it, he +stooped,--then stood up suddenly, grey to the very lips, and crushing +something in his hand, something, so it seemed to those around, pink +and white and green. But his face riveted them. "In the Guardianship +of God," he muttered, "in the Guardianship of God."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What is it?" said one to another, as he stood dazed and speechless. +Then they, too, stooped, looked, touched, until, as he had lain when +they found him behind the rose and jasmine thicket, Shureef lay before +them looking more as if he was asleep than dead.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Wah!</i>" said a voice in the crowd; "he cannot have been so bad as +folk thought him, if the Lord has taken all that care of him."</p> + +<p class="normal">Shurruf gave a sort of sob, stepped back, lost his footing on the edge +of the open grave and fell heavily. When they picked him up he was +dead.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Doctor, summoned hastily, shook his head. Death must have been +instantaneous, he said; the neck was broken. After which he went over +and looked at Shureef curiously; then stooped down and picked up some +of the earth on which the body lay, earth which had come from the +bottom of the grave. "Look," he said, pointing out minute white +crystals in it to the native assistant; "that's bi-borate of soda. I +knew there was some of it here when I chose this patch. It's a useful +antiseptic; but he has been in a regular mine of it--a curious case of +embalming, isn't it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">It certainly was; and it was still more curious that a bunch of fresh +roses and jasmine should have been found on Shurruf Deen the +Overseer's breast, as he lay in Shureef's grave; but, as the Doctor +said, the obsequious gardener had most likely given them to him as he +passed through the spinach and onion patches. And perhaps it was so.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_bad" href="#div1Ref_bad">A BAD-CHARACTER SUIT</a></h2> +<br> + +<p class="normal">A flood of blistering, yellow sunshine was pouring down on to the +prostrate body of Private George Afford as he lay on his back, drunk, +in an odd little corner between two cook-room walls in the barrack +square; and a stream of tepid water from a skin bag was falling on his +head as Peroo the <i>bhisti</i> stood over him, directing the crystal curve +now on his forehead, now scientifically on his ears. The only result, +however, was that Private George Afford tried unavailingly to scratch +them, then swore unintelligibly.</p> + +<p class="normal">Peroo twisted the nozzle of the <i>mussuck</i> to dryness, and knelt down +beside the slack strength in the dust. So kneeling, his glistening +curved brown body got mixed up with the glistening curved brown +water-bag he carried, until at first sight he seemed a monstrous +spider preying on a victim, for his arms and legs were skinny.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Sahib!</i>" he said, touching his master on the sleeve. It was a very +white sleeve, and the buttons and belts and buckles all glistened +white or gold in the searching sunlight, for Peroo saw to them, +as he saw to most things about Private Afford's body and soul; +why God knows, except that George Afford had once--for his own +amusement--whacked a man who, for his, was whacking Peroo. He happened +to be one of the best bruisers in the regiment, and George Afford, who +was in a sober bout, wanted to beat him; which he did.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was no one in sight; nothing in fact save the walls, and an +offensively cheerful castor-oil bush which grew, greener than any +bay-tree, in one angle, sending splay fingers of shadow close to +Private Afford's head as if it wished to aid in the cooling process. +But despite the solitude, Peroo's touch on the white sleeve was +decorous, his voice deference itself.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Sahib!</i>" he repeated. "If the <i>Huzoor</i> does not get up soon, the +Captain will find the master on the ground when he passes to rations. +And that is unnecessary."</p> + +<p class="normal">He might as well have spoken to the dead. George Afford's face, +relieved of the douche treatment, settled down to placid, contented +sleep. It was not a bad face; and indeed, considering the habits of +the man, it was singularly fine and clear cut; but then in youth it +had evidently been a superlatively handsome one also.</p> + +<p class="normal">Peroo waited a minute or two, then undid the nozzle of his skin bag +once more, and drenched the slack body and the dust around it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What a tyranny is here!" he muttered to himself, the wrinkles on his +forehead giving him the perplexed look of a baby monkey; "yet the +master will die of sunstroke if he be not removed. <i>Hai, Hai!</i> What it +is to eat forbidden fruit and find it a turnip."</p> + +<p class="normal">With which remark he limped off methodically to the quarter guard and +gave notice that Private George Afford was lying dead drunk between +cook-rooms Nos. 7 and 8; after which he limped on as methodically +about his regular duty of filling the regimental waterpots. What else +was there to be done? The special master whom he had elected to serve +between whiles would not want his services for a month or two at +least, since that period would be spent in clink. For Private George +Afford was a habitual offender.</p> + +<p class="normal">Such a very habitual offender, indeed, that Evan Griffiths, the second +major, had not a word to say when the Adjutant and the Colonel +conferred over this last offence, though he had stood Afford's friend +many a time; to the extent even of getting him re-enlisted in India--a +most unusual favour--when, after an interval of discharge, he turned +up at his ex-captain's bungalow begging to be taken on; averring, +even, that he had served his way out to India before the mast in that +hope, since enlistment at the Depôt might take him to the other +battalion. The story, so the Adjutant had said, was palpably false; +but the silent little Major had got the Colonel to consent; so Private +George Afford--an ideal soldier to look at--had given the master +tailor no end of trouble about the fit of his uniform, for he was a +bit of a dandy when he was sober. But now even Major Griffiths felt +the limit of forbearance was past; nor could a court-martial be +expected to take into consideration the trivial fact which lay at the +bottom of the observant little Major's mercy, namely, that though when +he was sober George Afford was a dandy, when he was drunk--or rather +in the stage which precedes actual drunkenness--he was a gentleman. +Vulgarity of speech slipped from him then; and even when he was +passing into the condition in which there is no speech he would excuse +his own lapses from strict decorum with almost pathetic apologies. "It +is no excuse, I know, sir," he would say with a charming, regretful +dignity, "but I have had a very chequered career--a very chequered +career indeed."</p> + +<p class="normal">That was true; and one of the black squares of the chessboard of life +was his now, for the court-martial which sentenced Private George +Afford to but a short punishment added the rider that he was to be +thereinafter dismissed from Her Majesty's Service.</p> + +<p class="normal">"He is quite incorrigible," said the Colonel, "and as we are pretty +certain of going up to punish those scoundrels on the frontier as soon +as the weather cools, we had better get rid of him. The regiment +mustn't have a speck anywhere, and his sort spoils the youngsters."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Major nodded.</p> + +<p class="normal">So Private George Afford got his dismissal, also the bad-character +suit of mufti which is the Queen's last gift even to such as he.</p> + +<br> +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:20pt">* * * * *</p> +<br> + +<p class="normal">It was full six weeks after he had stood beside that prostrate figure +between cook-rooms Nos. 7 and 8 that Peroo was once more engaged in +the same task, though not in the same place.</p> + +<p class="normal">And this time the thin stream of water falling on George Afford's face +found it grimed and dirty, and left it showing all too clearly the +traces of a fortnight's debauch. For Peroo, being of a philosophic +mind, had told himself, as he had limped away from the quarter guard +after his report, that now, while his self-constituted master would +have no need of his services, was the time for him to take that leave +home which he had deferred so long. Therefore, two or three days after +this event, he had turned up at the Quartermaster's office with the +curious Indian institution, "the changeling," and preferred his +request for a holiday. It was granted, of course; there is no reason +why leave should not be granted when a double, willing even to answer +to the same name, stands ready to step into the original's shoes, +without payment; that remaining a bargain between the doubles.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Here," said Peroo, "is my brother. He is even as myself. His +character is mine. We are all water-carriers, and he has done the work +for two days. I will also leave him my skin bag, so that the Presence +may be sure it is clean. He is a Peroo also."</p> + +<p class="normal">He might have been <i>the</i> Peroo so far as the Quartermaster's +requirements went. So the original went home and the copy took his +place; but not for the two months. The order for active service of +which the Colonel had spoken came sooner than was expected, and Peroo, +hearing of it, started back at once for the regiment. A "changeling" +could pass muster in peace, but war required the reality; besides, +the master would, no doubt, be released. He was surely too good +fighting material to be left behind, Peroo told himself; yet there his +hero was, lying in the dust of a bye-alley in the bazaar in a ragged +bad-character suit, while the barrack squares were alive with men, not +half so good to look at, talking, as the mules were laden, of the +deeds they were to do!</p> + +<p class="normal">The wrinkles on Peroo's forehead grew more like those of a monkey in +arms than ever. This was indeed a tyranny! but at least the Presence +could be moved out of the burning sun this time without, of necessity, +getting him into more trouble. So a few friends were called, and +together they carried George Afford into the windowless slip of a room +which Peroo locked at four o'clock in the morning and unlocked at ten +at night, but which, nevertheless, served him as a home. There was +nothing in it save a string bed and a drinking vessel; for Peroo, +after his kind, ate his food in the bazaar; but that for the present +was all the Englishman required either. So there Peroo left him in the +darkness and the cool, safe for the day.</p> + +<p class="normal">But after that? The problem went with Peroo as he limped about filling +the cook-room waterpots, for on the morrow he must be filling them on +the first camping-ground, fifteen miles away from that slip of a room +where the master lay. What would become of him then?</p> + +<p class="normal">The sandy stretches in which the barracks stood were full of mules, +camels, carts, and men of all arms belonging to the small picked force +which was to march with the one solid regiment at dawn on their +mission of punishment.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Pâni</i> (water)," shouted a perspiring artilleryman, grappling with a +peculiarly obstinate mule, as Peroo went past with his skin bag. +"<i>Pâni</i>, and bring a real <i>jildi</i> (quickness) along with it. W'ot! you +ain't the drinkin'-water, ain't yer? W'ot's that to me? I ain't one o' +yer bloomin' Brahmins; but I'll take it outside instead o' in, because +of them black-silly's o' the doctor's. So turn on the hose, Johnnie; +I'll show you how."</p> + +<p class="normal">"'E knows all about it, you bet," put in one of the regiment +cheerfully. "Wy, 'e's bin hydraulic engineer and waterworks combined +to that pore chap as got the sack the other day--George Afford--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Sure it was a thriflin' mistake wid the prepositions his godfathers +made when they named him; for it was on and not off-erd he was six +days out of sivin," remarked a tall Irishman.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You hold your jaw, Pat," interrupted another voice. "'E was a better +chap nor most, w'en 'e wasn't on the lap; and, Lordy! 'e could fight +when he 'ad the chanst--couldn't 'e, Waterworks? Just turn that hose +o' yours my way a bit, will yer?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Huzoor</i>," assented Peroo, deferentially; he understood enough to +make the thought pass through his brain that it was a pity the master +had not the chance. Perhaps the curve of water conveyed this to that +other brain beneath the close, fair curls, whence the drops flew +sparkling in the sunlight. At any rate, their owner went on in a +softer tone--</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, 'e fit--like fits. Looked, too, as if 'e was born ter die on the +field o' glory, and not in a bad-character suit; but, as the parson +says: 'Beauty is vain. I will repay, saith the Lord.'"</p> + +<p class="normal">The confused morality of this passed Peroo by; and yet something not +altogether dissimilar lay behind his wrinkled forehead when, work +over, he returned to the slip of a room and found Afford vaguely +roused by his entrance.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I--I am aware it is no possible excuse, sir," came his voice, +curiously refined, curiously pathetic, "but I really have had a very +chequered life, I have indeed."</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Huzoor</i>," acquiesced Peroo, briefly; but even that was sufficient to +bring the hearer closer to realities. He sat up on the string bed, +looked about him stupidly, then sank back again.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Get away! you d----d black devil," he muttered, with a sort of +listless anger. "Can't you let me die in peace, you fool? Can't you +let me die in the gutter, die in a bad-character suit? It's all I'm +fit for--all I'm fit for." Voice, anger, listlessness, all tailed away +to silence. He turned away with a sort of sob, and straightway fell +asleep, for he was still far from sober.</p> + +<p class="normal">Peroo lit a cresset lamp and stood looking at him. Beauty was +certainly vain here, and if the Lord was going to repay, it was time +He began. Time some one began, at any rate, if the man who had fought +for him, Peroo, was not to carry out his desire of dying in the +gutter--dying in a bad-character suit! The latter misfortune could, +however, be avoided. Things were going cheap in the bazaar that +evening, as was only natural when it was to be deserted for six months +at least, so it ought not to be hard to get the master an exchange for +something more suitable to his beauty, if not to his death.</p> + +<p class="normal">Five minutes afterwards George Afford, too much accustomed to such +ministrations to be disturbed by the process of undressing, was still +asleep, his chin resting peacefully on Peroo's best white cotton +shawl, and the bad-character suit was on its way to the pawnshop round +the corner. It was nigh on an hour, however, before Peroo, having +concluded his bargain, came back with it, and by the light of the +cresset set to work appraising his success or failure. A success +certainly. The uniform was old, no doubt, but it was a corporal's; and +what is more, it had three good-conduct stripes on the arm. That ought +to give dignity, even to a death in the gutter.</p> + +<p class="normal">Peroo brought out some pipeclay and pumice-stone from a crevice, and +set to work cheerfully on the buttons and belts, thinking as he worked +that he had indeed made a good bargain. With a judicious smear of +cinnabar here and there, the tunic would be almost as good as the +master's old one--<i>plus</i> the good-conduct stripes, of course, which he +could never have gained in the regiment.</p> + +<p class="normal">But out of it? If, for instance, the Lord were really to repay Private +George Afford for that good deed in defending a poor lame man?--a good +deed which no bad one could alter for the worse! Peroo on this point +would have been a match for a whole college of Jesuits in casuistry, +as he laid on the pipeclay with lavish hand, and burnished the buttons +till they shone like gold.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was grey dawn when George Afford woke, feeling a deferential touch +on his shoulder.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Huzoor!</i>" came a familiar voice, "the first bugle has gone. The +<i>Huzoor</i> will find his uniform--a corporal's, with three good-conduct +stripes--is ready. The absence of a rifle is to be regretted; but that +shall be amended if the <i>Huzoor</i> will lend a gracious ear to the plan +of his slave. In the meantime a gifting of the <i>Huzoor's</i> feet for the +putting on of stockings might be ordered."</p> + +<p class="normal">George Afford thrust out a foot mechanically, and sate on the edge of +the string bed staring stupidly at the three good-conduct stripes on +the tunic, which was neatly folded beside him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is quite simple," went on the deferential voice. "The <i>Huzoor</i> is +going to march with the colours, but he will be twelve hours behind +them; that is all. He will get the fighting, and by-and-by, when the +killing comes and men are wanted, the Colonel-<i>sahib</i> may give a +place; but, in any case, there will always be the fighting. For the +rest, I, the <i>Huzoor's</i> slave, will manage; and as there will, of +necessity, be no canteen, there can be no tyranny. Besides, since +there is not a cowrie in the master's jacket, what else is he to do?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The last argument was unanswerable. George Afford thrust out his other +foot to be shod for this new path, and stared harder than ever at the +good-conduct stripes.</p> + +<p class="normal">That night, despite the fatigues of a first day in camp, Peroo trudged +back along the hard white road to meet some one whom he expected; for +this was the first step, and he had, perforce, been obliged to leave +his charge to his own devices for twelve hours amid the distractions +of the bazaar. Still, without a cowrie in his pocket--Peroo had +carefully extracted the few annas he had found in one--a man was more +or less helpless, even for evil.</p> + +<p class="normal">Despite this fact, there was a lilt in the lagging step which, just as +Peroo had begun to give up hope of playing Providence, came slowly +down the road. It belonged to George Afford, in the gentlemanly stage +of drink. He had had a chequered life, he said almost tearfully, but +there were some things a man of honour could not do. He could not +break his promise to an inferior--a superior was another matter. In +that case he paid for it honestly. But he had promised Peroo--his +inferior--to come. So here he was; and that was an end of it.</p> + +<p class="normal">It seemed more than once during the next few hours as if the end had, +indeed, come. But somehow Peroo's deferential hand and voice +extricated those tired uncertain feet, the weary sodden brain, from +ditches and despair; still it was a very sorry figure which Peroo's +own hasty footsteps left behind, safely quartered for the day in a +shady bit of jungle, while he ran on to overtake the rear-guard if he +could. The start, however, had been too much for his lameness, and he +was a full hour late at his work; which, of course, necessitated his +putting in an excuse. He chose drunkenness, as being nearest the +truth, was fined a day's wages, and paid it cheerfully, thinking with +more certainty of the sleeping figure he had left in the jungles.</p> + +<p class="normal">The afternoon sun was slanting through the trees before it stirred, +and George Afford woke from the sleep of fatigue superadded to his +usual sedative. He felt strangely refreshed, and lay on his back +staring at the little squirrels yawning after their midday snooze in +the branches above him. And then he laughed suddenly, sate up and +looked about him half confusedly. Not a trace of humanity was to be +seen; nothing but the squirrels, a few green pigeons, and down in the +mirror-like pool behind the trees--a pool edged by the percolating +moisture from the water with faint spikes of sprouting grass--a couple +of egrets were fishing lazily. Beyond lay a bare sandy plain, backed +by faint blue hills--the hills where fighting was to be had. Close at +hand were those three good-conduct stripes.</p> + +<p class="normal">That night Peroo had not nearly so far to go back along the broad +white road; yet the step which came echoing down it, if steadier, +lagged more. Nor was Peroo's task much easier, for George Afford--in +the abject depression which comes to the tippler from total +abstinence--sate down in the dust more than once, and swore he would +not go another step without a dram. Still, about an hour after dawn, +he was once more dozing in a shady retreat with a pot of water and +some dough cakes beside him, while Peroo, in luck, was getting a lift +to the third camping-ground.</p> + +<p class="normal">But even at the second, where the sleeping figure remained, the +country was wilder, almost touching the "skirts of the hills," and so, +when George Afford roused himself--as the animals rouse themselves to +meet the coming cool of evening--a ravine deer was standing within +easy shot, looking at him with head thrown back and wide, startled +nostrils, scenting the unknown.</p> + +<p class="normal">The sight stirred something in the man which had slept the sleep of +the dead for years; that keen delight of the natural man, not so much +in the kill as in the chase; not so much in the mere chase itself as +in its efforts--its freedom. He rose, stretching his long arms in what +was half a yawn, half a vague inclination to shake himself free of +some unseen burden.</p> + +<p class="normal">But that night he swore at Peroo for leading him a fool's dance; he +threatened to go back. He was not so helpless as all that. He was not +a slave; he would have his tot of rum like any other soldier as--</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Huzoor</i>," interrupted Peroo, deferentially, "this slave is aware +that many things necessary to the <i>Huzoor's</i> outfit as a soldier +remain to be produced. But with patience all may be attained. Here, by +God's grace, is the rifle. One of us--Smith-<i>sahib</i> of G Company, +<i>Huzoor</i>--found freedom to-day. He was reconnoitring with Griffiths, +Major-<i>sahib</i>, when one of these hell-doomed <i>Sheeahs</i>--whom Heaven +destroy--shot him from behind a rock--"</p> + +<p class="normal">Private George Afford seemed to find his feet suddenly. "Smith of G +Company?" he echoed in a different voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Huzoor!</i>--the <i>sahib</i> whom the <i>Huzoor</i> thrashed for thrashing +this +slave--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Poor chap!" went on George Afford, as if he had not heard. "So +they've nicked him--but we'll pay 'em out--we--" His fingers closed +mechanically on the rifle Peroo was holding out to him.</p> + +<br> +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:20pt">* * * * *</p> +<br> + +<p class="normal">It was a fortnight after this, and the camp lay clustered closely in +the mouth of a narrow defile down which rushed a torrent swollen from +the snows above; a defile which meant decisive victory or defeat to +the little force which had to push their way through it to the heights +above. Yet, though death, maybe, lay close to each man, the whole camp +was in an uproar because Major Griffiths' second pair of <i>putties</i> had +gone astray. The other officers had been content with one set of these +woollen bandages which in hill-marching serve as gaiters, and help so +much to lessen fatigue; but the Major, being methodical, had provided +against emergencies. And now, when, with that possibility of death +before him, his soul craved an extreme order in all things, his clean +pair had disappeared. Now the Major, though silent, always managed to +say what he meant. So it ran through the camp that they had been +stolen, and men compared notes over the fact in the mess-tent and in +the canteen.</p> + +<p class="normal">In the former, the Adjutant with a frown admitted that of late there +had been a series of inexplicable petty thefts in camp, which had +begun with the disappearance of Private Smith's rifle. That might +perhaps be explained in an enemy's country, but what the deuce anybody +could want with a pair of bone shirt-studs--</p> + +<p class="normal">"And a shirt," put in a mournful voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Item</i> a cake of scented soap," said another.</p> + +<p class="normal">"And a comb," began a third.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Colonel, who had till then preserved a discreet silence, here +broke in with great heat to the Adjutant.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Upon my soul, sir, it's a disgrace to the staff, and I must insist on +a stringent inquiry the instant we've licked these hill-men. I--I +didn't mean to say anything about it--but I haven't been able to find +my tooth-brush for a week."</p> + +<p class="normal">Whereupon there was a general exodus into the crisp, cold air outside, +where the darkness would hide inconvenient smiles, for the Colonel was +one of those men who have a different towel for their face and hands.</p> + +<p class="normal">The stars were shining in the cleft between the tall, shadowy cliffs +which rose up on either side, vague masses of shadow on which--seen +like stars upon a darker sky--the watchfires of the enemy sparkled +here and there. The enemy powerful, vigilant; and yet beside the +camp-fires close at hand the men had forgotten the danger of the +morrow in the trivial loss of the moment, and were discussing the +Major's <i>putties</i>.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's w'ot I say all along," reiterated the romancer of G Company. "It +begun ever since Joey Smith was took from us at Number Two camp. It's +'is ghost--that's w'ot it is. 'Is ghost layin' in a <i>trew-so</i>. Jest +you look 'ere! They bury 'im, didn't they? as 'e was--decent like in +coat and pants--no more. Well! since then 'e's took 'is rifle off us, +an' a greatcoat off D Company, and a knapsack off A."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't be lavin' out thim blankets he tuk from the store, man," +interrupted the tall Irishman. "Sure it's a testhimony to the pore +bhoy's character annyhow that he shud be wantin' thim where he is."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is not laughing at all at such things I would be, whatever," put +in another voice seriously, "for it is knowing of such things we are +in the Highlands--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hold your second sight, Mac," broke in a third; "we don't want none +o' your shivers tonight. You're as bad as they blamed niggers, and +they swear they seen Joey more nor once in a red coat dodging about +our rear."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well! they won't see 'im no more, then," remarked a fourth +philosophically, "for 'e change 'is tailor. Leastways, 'e got a +service khakee off Sergeant Jones the night afore last; the Sergeant +took his Bible oath to 'ave it off Joey Smith's ghost, w'en 'e got +time to tackle 'im, if 'e 'ave ter go to 'ell for it."</p> + +<p class="normal">Major Griffiths meantime was having a similar say as he stood, +eye-glass in eye, at the door of the mess-tent. "Whoever the thief +is," he admitted, with the justice common to him, "he appears to have +the instincts of a gentleman; but, by Gad, sir, if I find him he shall +know what it is to take a field officer's gaiters."</p> + +<p class="normal">Whereupon he gave a dissatisfied look at his own legs, a more +contented one at the glimmering stars of the enemy's watchfires, and +then turned in to get a few hours' rest before the dawn.</p> + +<p class="normal">But some one a few miles farther down the valley looked both at his +legs and at the stars with equal satisfaction. Some one, tall, square, +straight, smoking a pipe--some one else's pipe, no doubt--beside the +hole in the ground where, on the preceding night, the camp flagstaff +had stood. That fortnight had done more for George Afford than give +his outward man a trousseau; it had clothed him with a certain +righteousness, despite the inward conviction that Peroo must be a +magnificent liar in protesting that the <i>Huzoor's</i> outfit had either +been gifted to him or bought honestly.</p> + +<p class="normal">In fact, as he stood looking down at his legs complacently, he +murmured to himself, "I believe they're the Major's, poor chap; look +like him somehow." Then he glanced at the Sergeant's coatee he wore +and walked up and down thoughtfully--up and down beside the hole in +the ground where the flagstaff had stood.</p> + +<p class="normal">So to him from the dim shadows came a limping figure.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well?" he called sharply.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The orders are for dawn, <i>Huzoor</i>, and here are some more +cartridges."</p> + +<p class="normal">George Afford laughed; an odd, low little laugh of sheer satisfaction.</p> + +<br> +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:20pt">* * * * *</p> +<br> + +<p class="normal">It was past dawn by an hour or two, but the heights were still unwon.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Send some one--any one!" gasped the Colonel, breathlessly, as he +pressed on with a forlorn hope of veterans to take a knoll of rocks +whence a galling fire had been decimating every attack. "Griffiths! +for God's sake, go or get some one ahead of those youngsters on the +right or they'll break--and then--"</p> + +<p class="normal">Break! What more likely? A weak company, full of recruits, a company +with its officers shot down, and before them a task for veterans--for +that indifference to whizzing bullets which only custom brings. Major +Griffiths, as he ran forward, saw all this, saw also the ominous +waver. God! would he be in time to check it--to get ahead? that was +what was wanted, some one ahead--no more than that--some one ahead!</p> + +<p class="normal">There was some one. A tall figure ahead of the wavering boys.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come on! come on, my lads! follow me!" rang out a confident voice, +and the Major, as he ran, half-blinded by the mists of his own haste, +felt it was as a voice from heaven.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come on! come on!--give it 'em straight. Hip, hip, hurray!"</p> + +<p class="normal">An answering cheer broke from the boys behind, and with a rush the +weakest company in the regiment followed some one to victory.</p> + +<br> +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:20pt">* * * * *</p> +<br> + +<p class="normal">"I don't understand what the dickens it means," said the Colonel +almost fretfully that same evening, when, safe over the pass, the +little force was bivouacking in a willow-set valley on the other side +of the hills. Before it lay what it had come to gain, behind it danger +past. "Some one in my regiment," he went on, "does a deuced plucky +thing--between ourselves, saves the position: I want naturally to find +out who it was, and am met by a cock and bull story about some one's +ghost. What the devil does it mean, Major?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The Major shook his head. "I couldn't swear to the figure, sir, though +it reminded me a bit--but that's impossible. However, as I have by +your orders to ride back to the top, sir, and see what can be done to +hold it, I'll dip over a bit to where the rush was made, and see if +there is any clue."</p> + +<p class="normal">He had not to go so far. For in one of those tiny hollows in the level +plateau of pass, whence the snow melts early, leaving a carpet of blue +forget-me-nots and alpine primroses behind it, he, Sergeant Jones, and +the small party going to make security still more secure, came upon +Peroo, the water-carrier, trying to perform a tearful travesty of the +burial service over the body of George Afford.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was dressed in Sergeant Jones' tunic and Major Griffiths' +<i>putties</i>, but the Sergeant knelt down beside it, and smoothed the +stripes upon the cuff with a half-mechanical, half-caressing touch, +and the Major interrupted Peroo's protestations with an odd tremor in +his voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What the devil does it matter," he said sharply, "what he took +besides the pass? Stand aside, man; this is my work, not yours. +Sergeant! form up your men for the salute--ball cartridge."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Major's recollection of the service for the burial of the dead was +not accurate, but it was comprehensive. So he committed the mortal +remains of his brother soldier to the dust, confessing confusedly that +there is a natural body and a spiritual body--a man that is of the +earth earthy, and one that is the Lord from heaven. So following on a +petition to be saved from temptation and delivered from evil, the +salute startled the echoes, and they left George Afford in the keeping +of the pass, and the pass in his keeping. And as the Major rode +campwards, he wondered vaguely if some one before the great white +throne wore a bad-character suit, or whether wisdom understood the +plea, "I've had a very chequered life, I have indeed."</p> + +<p class="normal">But Peroo had no such thoughts; needed no such excuse. It was +sufficient for him that the <i>Huzoor</i> had once been the protector of +the poor.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_fire" href="#div1Ref_fire">FIRE AND ICE</a></h2> +<br> + +<p class="normal">It was in a little lath-and-plaster house down by the river that it +all happened. The veriest confection of a house, looking for all the +world as if it were a Neapolitan ice. Strawberry and vanilla in +alternate stripes, with shuttered windows of coffee, and a furled +wafer of an awning over the filagree chocolate balcony. And it rested, +so to speak, against a platter of green plantain-leaves, bright as any +emerald. No doubt the trees belonging to the leaves grew somewhere to +the back or the side of it, but from the wide street in front you +could see nothing but the green leaves surrounding the ice-cream.</p> + +<p class="normal">For the rest it was a three-storeyed house outwardly; inwardly a +two-storeyed one; or to be strictly accurate, it consisted of a storey +and a half, since the further half of the ground floor and the whole +of the middle storey belonged to a different house, having a different +entrance in a different street, which lay in a different quarter. A +very respectable quarter indeed, whereas the less said about the +morals of the wide street down by the river the better. They were so +bad that the modesty of the middle storey did not permit of a single +window whence they could be seen. And this gave the house a queer, +half-hearted look, for the top storey, and that half of the lowest one +which belonged to it, were full of windows and doors opening on to the +broad path leading to destruction. There were five, with fretted +wooden architraves filling up the whole of the ground floor, so that +you could see straight into the long, shallow hall whence there was no +exit save by a narrow slit in the middle, showing a dim, steep +staircase. It was always empty, this hall, though it was carpeted with +striped carpets, and painted elaborately in flowery arabesques of a +dull, pale, pink and flaming crimson; an odd mixture reminding you +vaguely of bloodstains on a rose-leaf. And there was a red lamp over +the centre door, which sent a rosy redness into the growing dusk; for +it was lit early.</p> + +<p class="normal">So was the pale--the palest of green lights--on the top storey which +you could see swinging from the roof when the coffee-ice shutters were +thrown back as the evening breeze came down the river. It was pale, +yet bright like the first star at sunsetting.</p> + +<p class="normal">And sometimes, but not often, if you watched in the early dusk you +might see the owner of the ice-cream house flit across the open +window. She was like a sugar-drop herself, rose or saffron decked with +silver leaf, a slender scrap of a creature who tinkled as she walked +and gave out a perfume of heavy scented flowers. But this was seldom; +more often you only heard the tinkle, either of silver or laughter, +since Burfâni--for that was her name--was of those who barter the one +for the other. It was in truth her hereditary trade, though neither +her father nor her mother had practised it; their rôle in life having +been that of pater and mater-familias. A very necessary one if the +race is to survive, and so in this generation, also, her brother had +undertaken the duty of marrying his first cousin. The young couple +being now, in the privacy and propriety of the second storey, engaged +in bringing up a fine family of girls to succeed to the top storey +when Burfâni's age should drive her to a lower place in life. In the +meantime, however, she allowed them so much a month; enough to enable +idle Zulfkar to fight quail in the bazaars and keep his wife Lâzîzan +in the very strictest seclusion--as befitted one filched from the +profession of bartering smiles in order to fulfil the first duty of a +woman--the rearing of babes.</p> + +<p class="normal">Thus, in more ways than one, the house was conglomerate. On the side +overlooking the broad path there was the stained rose-leaf hall, +empty, swept, and garnished, and the dark stair leading up and up to +the wandering star of a lamp twinkling out into the sunset amid the +sound of laughter and money. On the side giving upon narrow +respectability a hall full of household gear and dirt where the little +girls played, and a dark stair leading to a darker room where Lâzîzan +sat day after day bewailing her sad fate; for, of course, life would +have been much gayer over the way, since she was a beautiful woman. +Far more beautiful in a lavish, somewhat loud fashion, than the lady +belonging to the ice-cream house with her delicate, small face; but +that was the very reason why she had been chosen out from many to +carry on the race as it ought to be carried on. Burfâni, of course, +was clever, and that counted for much, but it never did in their +profession to rely on brains above looks. Nevertheless Lâzîzan, when +in a bad temper, was in the habit of telling herself that if she had +been taught to sing and dance, as the little lady had been taught, she +could have made the ice-cream house a more paying concern than it +was--to judge by the pittance they received from it! And this angry +complaint grew with her years until as she sat suckling her fourth +child, she felt sometimes as if she could strangle it, even though it +was a boy, and though as a rule she was an affectionate mother. In +truth the sheer animal instinct natural to so finely developed a +creature lasted out the two or three years during which her children +were hers alone; after that, when they began crawling downstairs and +playing in the hall where she might never go, she became jealous and +then forgot all about them.</p> + +<p class="normal">Nevertheless, the boy being only some nine months old when he was +suddenly carried off by one of those mysterious diseases common to +Indian children, she wept profusely, and told Burfâni--who, as in duty +bound, came round decently swathed in a <i>burka</i> to offer condolence on +hearing of the sad event--that some childless one had doubtless cast a +shadow on him for his beauty's sake, seeing that--thank Heaven!--all +her children were beautiful. There was always a militant flavour +underlying the politeness of these two, and even the presence of the +quaint little overdressed dead baby awaiting its bier on the bed did +not prevent attack and defence.</p> + +<p class="normal">"They favour thee, sister," replied Burfâni, suavely. "In mind also, +to judge from what I see. Therefore I shall await God's will in the +future ere I choose one to educate."</p> + +<p class="normal">Lâzîzan tittered sarcastically, despite her half-dried tears.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Tis my choice first, nevertheless. The best of this bunch in +looks--ay, in brains too, perchance--marries my brother's son, +according to custom. Sure my mother chose thus, and I must do the +same, sister."</p> + +<p class="normal">She spoke evenly, though for the moment the longing to strangle +something had transferred itself to the saffron-coloured sugar-drop +all spangled with silver which had emerged from its chrysalis of a +<i>burka</i>. What business had the poor thin creature with such garments +when <i>her</i> beauty was hidden by mere rags?</p> + +<p class="normal">Burfâni laughed in her turn; an easy, indifferent laugh, and stretched +out her slim henna-dyed palm with the usual friendly offering of +cardamoms.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Take one, sister," she said soothingly, "they are good for spleen and +excessive grief. <i>Hai! Hai!</i> thou wilt be forlorn, indeed, now thy +occupation is gone."</p> + +<p class="normal">Lâzîzan, with her mouth full of spices, tittered again more +artificially than ever. "I can do other things, perchance, beside +suckle babes. Maybe I weary of it, and am glad of a change."</p> + +<p class="normal">The saffron-coloured sugar-drop, seated on a low stool in front of the +white-sheeted bed with its solemn little gaily-dressed burden, looked +at its companion distastefully through its long lashes, and the +slender, henna-dyed hand, catching some loops of the jasmine chaplets +it wore, held them like a bouquet close to the crimson-tinted lips.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is a virtuous task, my sister," quoth Burfâni, gravely sniffing +away at the heavy perfume, as if she needed something to make her +environment less objectionable. "Besides, it is ever a mistake to +forsake the profession of one's birth--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"And wherefore should I?" interrupted Lâzîzan, seizing her opportunity +recklessly. "Hast thou forsaken it, and are we not sisters?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Again a cold, critical look of dislike came from the long, narrow eyes +with their drowsy lids.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Such words are idle, sister. Forget them. Thou wouldst not find it +easier--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"How canst tell?" interrupted Lâzîzan once more. "As well say that +thou couldst put up with my life."</p> + +<p class="normal">The saffron and silver daintiness shifted its look towards the bed, +and the henna-dyed hand straightened a wrinkle in the sheet softly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"God knows!" she said with a sudden smile. "Anyhow, sister, 'tis not +wise to change one's profession as one grows old."</p> + +<p class="normal">As one grows old! This parting shot rankled long after the decent +<i>burka</i> had slipped like a shadow through the swept and garnished +hall, and so up the dark stairs to the wandering starlight shining +feebly out into the sunset; long after the preacher and the bier, and +the family friends had carried the gaily-dressed baby to its grave, +leaving the mother to the select and secluded tears of her neighbours; +long after the little girls, wearied out with excitement, had fallen +asleep cuddled together peacefully, innocent of that choice in the +future; long after Zulfkar, full of liquor, tears, and curses, due to +a surplusage in the funeral expenses allowed by Burfâni, to parental +grief, and to bad luck at cards, came home, desirous of sympathy. He +got none, for Lâzîzan, despite her seclusion, had never lost the +empire which he felt she deserved as the handsomest woman he knew. +'Twas his own fault, she said curtly; he could marry another wife, +have more liquor, and gamble as much as he liked if he chose. It was +but a question of money, and if he were content to put up with +beggarly alms from his sister, that ended the matter.</p> + +<p class="normal">Whereupon, being in the maudlin stage of drink, he wept still more.</p> + +<p class="normal">It must have been fully three months after the baby's funeral +procession had gone down the respectable street, and so by a side +alley found its way into the broad path leading alike to destruction +and the graveyard, that Burfâni went round to her sister-in-law's +again. This time she was in pink and silver, like a rose-water ice, +and her words were cold as her looks.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Say what thou wilt, Lâzîzan, the youth lingers. Have I not windows to +my house? Have I not eyes? And such things shall not be bringing +disgrace to respectable families."</p> + +<p class="normal">Lâzîzan tittered as usual: "Lo! what a coil, because an idle stranger +lingers at the back instead of the front, 'Tis for thy sake doubtless, +sister, though thou art unkind. I wonder at it, seeing he is not +ill-favoured."</p> + +<p class="normal">"So thou <i>hast</i> seen him! So be it. See him no more, or I tell +Zulfkar."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Tell him what? That thou hast cast eyes on a handsome stranger, and +because he comes not to thy call wouldst fasten the quarrel upon me? +Zulfkar is no fool, sister, he will not listen!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"If he listen not, he can leave my house--for 'tis mine. And mark my +words, Lâzîzan Bibi, no scandal comes nigh it."</p> + +<p class="normal">Cæsar's wife could not have spoken with greater unction, and in good +sooth she meant her words, since in no class is seclusion bound to be +more virtuous than in that to which Burfâni belonged.</p> + +<p class="normal">So, as the motes in the sunbeam of life danced along the broad path in +front of the ice-cream house, and drifted up its dark stair, the +painted and perfumed little lady under the pale green lamp kept an eye +upon the virtue of her family. Thus ere long it came to be Zulfkar's +turn to listen to his sister's warning, and as he listened he sucked +fiercely, confusedly, at the inlaid hookah which stood for the use of +approved visitors; for in good sooth there had been more money to +spend of late, and Lâzîzan was discreet enough save to those watchful, +experienced eyes. The sound of his hubblings and bubblings therefore +was his only answer, and they filled the wide, low, white-plastered +upper storey, frescoed round each coffee-shuttered window with flowery +devices, until Burfâni lost patience, and began coldly:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hast been taking lessons of a camel, brother?" she asked, rustling +the tinsel-decked fan she held; and then suddenly she seemed to grasp +something, and the contemptuous indifference of her bearing changed to +passionate anger. Her silver-set feet clashed as they touched the +floor, and she rose first to a sitting posture, finally to stand +before the culprit, the very personification of righteous wrath.</p> + +<p class="normal">"So! thou hast taken gold! This is why thou canst ruffle with the best +at Gulâbun's--base-born parvenu who takes to the life out of +wickedness--as <i>she</i> hath done, bringing disgrace to the screened +house where thy mother dwelt in decency. But thou dwellest there no +longer--thou eatest no bread of mine--I will choose my pupil from +another brood."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Nay, sister, 'tis not proved," stammered Zulfkar.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not proved!" she went on still more passionately. "Nay, 'tis not +proved to thy neighbours, maybe, but to me? Mine eyes have seen--I +know the trick--and out thou goest. I will have no such doings in my +house, and so I warned her months ago. But there! what need for +railing? Live on her gold an thou wiliest, it shall not chink beside +mine."</p> + +<p class="normal">She sank back upon the silk coverlet again, and with a bitter laugh +began to rustle the tinsel fan once more. And Zulfkar, after +unavailing protests, slunk down the dark stairs, and so along the +street to a certain house over the liquor-seller's shop, about which a +noisy crowd gathered all day long.</p> + +<p class="normal">And that night screams and blows came from the second storey, and +unavailing curses on the mischief-maker. But if the latter heard them, +she gave no sign to the approved visitors drinking sherbets in the +cool upper storey with the windows set wide to the stars.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was Zulfkar beating his wife, of course, because she was so +handsome primarily; secondly, because she had been foolish enough to +be found out; thirdly, because even in liquor he was sharp enough to +recognise that Burfâni would keep her word.</p> + +<p class="normal">And she did. The supplies stopped from that day. Within a week the +second storey lay empty, while Lâzîzan wept tears of pain and spite in +a miserable little lodging in the very heart of the city. It is +difficult even to hint at the impotent rage the woman felt towards her +sister-in-law. Even Zulfkar's blows were forgotten in the one mad +longing to revenge herself upon the pink-and-saffron daintiness which +would not spare one crumb from a full table. For so to Lâzîzan's +coarse, passionate nature the matter presented itself, bringing with +it a fierce delight at the perfections of her own lover. He had +deserted her for the time, it is true, but that was the way of lovers +when husbands were angry; by-and-by he would come back, and there +would be peace, since Zulfkar must have gold.</p> + +<p class="normal">So ran her calculations; but she reckoned without a certain fierce +intolerance which the latter shared with his sister; also somewhat +prematurely on an immediate emptying of his pockets. But luck was not +all against him; the cards favoured him. And so, when a few days after +the flitting from the second storey, she, being sick to death of +dulness, thought the time had come for self-assertion, she found +herself mistaken. Zulfkar, still full of Dutch courage, fell upon her +again, and beat her most unmercifully, finishing up with an +intimidatory slash at her nose. It was not much, not half so serious +as the beating, but the very thought of possible disfigurement drove +her mad, and the madness drove her to a corner where she could plan +revenge while Zulfkar slept heavily--for he was more than half drunk. +And <i>this</i>, too, was the fault of the saffron-and-rose devil in the +upper storey, who had her amusement and spied upon other women's ways. +And <i>this</i> meant days more ere she, Lâzîzan, would be presentable, +even if she did not carry the mark to her grave, and all because that +she-devil was jealous--jealous of <i>her</i> lover!</p> + +<p class="normal">Oh for revenge! And why not? The door was unlatched, since Zulfkar had +forgotten it in his anger; the streets were deserted. Even the broad +path down by the river would be asleep, the green light gone from +above, only the red lamp swinging over the outer door, sending a +glow.... Fire! The thought leapt to her brain like a flame itself. Why +not? Zulfkar had purposely kept--all unbeknown to the she-devil--a +second key to that empty second floor, and he was in a drunken sleep. +If she stole it--if she took the bottle of paraffin--if she set fire +to the wooden partition separating the stairs--if she broke the red +lamp and pretended that was it--</p> + +<p class="normal">She did not stop to think. She had begun the task almost before she +had thought out the details, and was fumbling in Zulfkar's pockets as +he lay. And there were two bottles of paraffin in the corner; that was +because he had brought one home, and the market-woman another by +mistake. So much the better, so much the bigger blaze. Then out into +the street, not forgetting a box of safety matches--strange companions +to such a task. She knew her way well, having wandered free enough as +a child before the lot was drawn, the die cast which sent her to +suckle babes. Yet, being a woman beset by a thousand superstitious +fears, it needed all her courage ere she found herself face to face +with the thin wooden partition surrounding the steep stair leading +upwards. How many times had she not listened to feet ascending those +unseen stairs, and heard the tinkle of laughter as the unseen door +above opened?</p> + +<p class="normal">Well, it would blaze finely, and cut off at once all means of escape. +A devilish plan indeed, and the leaping flames, ere she left them to +their task, showed the face of a fiend incarnate.</p> + +<p class="normal">And so to wait for the few minutes before the whole world must +know that the saffron and the rose daintiness was doomed. No more +laughter--no more lovers--that would be for her, Lâzîzan, not for the +other with her cold sneers.</p> + +<p class="normal">A licking tongue of flame showed for an instant and made her pray +Heaven none might see it too soon. Then a crackle, a puff of smoke, +next a cry of fire, but, thank Heaven, only from the broad path. And +what good were the running feet, what good the shouts of the crowd in +which her shrouded figure passed unnoticed, unless the upper storey +had wings? For the stairs must be gone--hopelessly gone--by this time.</p> + +<p class="normal">More than the stairs, for with one sudden blaze the lath-and-plaster +house seemed to melt like ice itself before the sheet of flame which +the soft night wind bent riverwards.</p> + +<p class="normal">And still the top storey slept, or was it suffocated? No! there was +some one at the window--some one gesticulating wildly. A man--not a +woman.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Throw yourself down!" cried an authoritative foreign voice, "'tis +your only chance."</p> + +<p class="normal">Surely, since the ice melted visibly during the sudden hush which fell +upon the jostling crowd.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Throw yourself down!" came the order again; "we'll catch you if we +can. Stand back, good people."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Quick! it's your last chance," came the inexorable voice once more. +Then there was a leap, a scream--a crash, as in his despair the man +overleapt the mark and fell among the parting crowd. Fell right at +Lâzîzan's feet face uppermost.</p> + +<p class="normal">And it was the face of the handsome stranger--of her lover.</p> + +<p class="normal">Her shriek echoed his as she flung herself beside him. And at the +sound something white and ghostlike slipped back from the window with +a tinkle of laughter.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Burfâni! Burfâni!" shouted the crowd. "Drop gently--we'll save you! +Burfâni! Burfâni!"</p> + +<p class="normal">But there was no answer; and the next moment with a roar and a crash +Vice fell upon Virtue, and both together upon the swept and garnished +hall and the hall where the little girls had played.</p> + +<p class="normal">The ice-cream house had become a blazing pile of fire.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_shah" href="#div1Ref_shah">THE SHÂHBÂSH WALLAH</a></h2> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Shâhbâsh, Bhaiyan, Shâhbâsh!</p> + +<p class="normal">The words, signifying "Bravo, boys, bravo!" came in a despondent drawl +from the coolie leaning against the ladder--one of those crazy bamboo +ladders with its rungs tied on with grass twine at varying slants and +distances, whereon the Indian house-decorator loves to spend long days +in company with a pot of colour-wash and a grass brush made from the +leavings of the twine.</p> + +<p class="normal">There were two such ladders in the bare, oblong, lofty room, set round +with open doors and windows, and on each was balanced a man, a pot, +and a brush--all doing nothing. So was the coolie below.</p> + +<p class="normal">He was a small, slight man, with a dejected expression. Stark naked, +save for two yards or so of coarse muslin wisped about his short hair +and a similar length knotted about his middle. What colour either had +been originally could not be guessed, since both were completely +covered with splashes of colour-wash--blue, green, yellow, and pink. +So was his thin body, which, as he stood immovable at the bottom of +the ladder, looked as if it was carved out of some rare scagiola.</p> + +<p class="normal">For they were doing up the hospital in Fort Lawrence, and +Surgeon-Captain Terence O'Brien, of the 10th Sikh Pioneers--then +engaged in making military roads over the Beloochistan frontier--had +an eye for colour. Not so, however, Surgeon-Major Pringle, who that +very morning had marched in with the detachment of young English +recruits which had been sent to take possession of the newly enlarged +fort. It was a queer mud building, looking as if it were a part of the +mud promontory which blocked a sharp turn in the sun-dried, heat-baked +mud valley, through which the dry bed of a watercourse twisted like +the dry skin of a snake. Everything dry, everything mud, baked to +hardness by the fierce sun. It was an ugly country in one way, +picturesque in another, with its yawning fissures cracking the mud +hills into miniature peaks and passes, its almost leafless flowering +shrubs, aromatic, honeyful, and its clouds of painted butterflies. A +country in which colour was lost in sheer excess of sunshine.</p> + +<p class="normal">That, however, was not the reason why Surgeon-Captain O'Brien had +painted his wards to match Joseph's coat. As he explained to +Surgeon-Major Pringle, who, as senior officer, took over charge, it +was wiser, in his opinion--especially with youngsters about--to call +wards by the colour of their walls rather than by the diseases to be +treated in them; since if a patient "wance found out what was really +wrong with his insoide, he was sure to get it insthanter."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Surgeon-Major, fresh from England and professional +precisions--fresh also to India and its appeals to the +imagination--had felt it impossible to combat such statements +seriously. Besides, there was no use in doing so. The walls were past +remedy for that year, and even the <i>post-mortem</i> house--that last +refuge of all diseases--was being washed bright pink; a colour which, +according to Terence O'Brien, was "a nice, cheerful tint, that could +not give annyone, not even a corpse, the blues."</p> + +<p class="normal">In the course of which piece of work the small man at the foot of the +ladder was becoming more and more like a statue in <i>rosso antico</i>, as +he repeated: "<i>Shâhbâsh, bhaiyan, shâhbâsh!</i>" at regular intervals.</p> + +<p class="normal">His voice had no resonance, and not an atom of enthusiasm about it; +but, like a breeze among rain-soaked trees, it always provoked a +pitter-patter of falling drops--a patter of pink splashes like huge +tears--upon the concrete floor and the scagiola figure. For the words +set the brushes above moving slowly for a while; then the spasm of +energy passed, all was still again, until a fresh "Bravo, boys, +bravo!" was followed by a fresh shower of pink tears.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Lazy brutes!" came a boy's voice from the group of young recruits who +were enjoying a well-earned rest after having marched in fifteen +miles, carrying their kits as if they had been born with them, and +settling down into quarters as if they were veterans. For they were +smart boys, belonging to a smart regiment, whose recruiting ground lay +far from slums and scums; one whose officers were smart also, and kept +up the tone of their men by teaching them a superior tolerance for the +rest of the world. "Jest look at that feller--like an alley taw. He +ain't done a blessed 'and's turn since I began to watch 'im." They +were seated on some shady mud steps right over against the hospital +compound, and the <i>post-mortem</i> house being separate from the wards, +and having all its many windows and doors set wide, the inside of it +was as plainly visible as the out.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Rum lot," assented another voice with the same ring of wholesome +self-complacency in it. "I arst one of the Sickees, as seems a decent +chap for a nigger and knows a little decent lingo, wot the spotted pig +was at with his everlastin' <i>shabbashes</i>, an' 'e says it's to put +courage to the Johnnies up top. Not that I don't say I shouldn't +cotton myself much to them ladders, that's more like caterpillars than +a decent pair o' 'ouse-steps. A poor lot--that's wot they are, as +doesn't know the differ in holt between a nail and a bit o' twine."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, mates," said a third voice, "all I can say is that if they +ain't got no more courage than <i>shâhbâsh</i> can put to them, it's no +wonder we licks the blooming lot of them--as we does constant."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a faint laugh first, and then the group sucked at their +pipes decisively as they watched the doings in the <i>post-mortem</i>. +Though they would have scouted the suggestion, the <i>shâhbâsh wallah</i> +had justified his calling; for patriotism brings courage with it.</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not trouble his head about justification, however. Some one, in +his experience, always did the shouting, and it suited him better than +more active occupation, for he was lame; stiff, too, in his back. +Surgeon-Major Pringle, coming in later to find the <i>post-mortem</i> very +much as it had been hours before, looked at him distastefully, and +began a remark about what two English workmen could have done, which +Surgeon-Captain Terence O'Brien interrupted with his charming smile: +"Sure, sir, the sun rises a considerable trifle airlier East than +West, an' that's enough energy for wan hemisphere. Besides, ye can't +get on in India without a <i>shâhbâsh wallah</i>. Or elsewhere, for that +matter. Ye always require 'the something not ourselves which makes for +righteousness'--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Makes for fiddlesticks!" muttered the senior under his breath, adding +aloud, "Who the dickens is the <i>shâhbâsh wallah</i> when he is at home, +and what's his work?" He asked the question almost reluctantly, for +his junior's extremely varied information had, since the morning, +imparted a vague uncertainty to a round world which had hitherto, in +Dr. Pringle's estimation of it, been absolutely sure--cocksure!</p> + +<p class="normal">"What is he? Oh! he's a variety of names. He's objective reality, +moral sanction, antecedent experience, unconditioned good. Ye can take +yer choice of the lot, sir; and if ye can't win the thrick with +metaphysics--I can't, and that's the thruth--play thrumps. +Sentiment!--sympathy! Ye can't go wrong there. Ye can't leave them out +of life's equation, East or West. Just some one--a fool, maybe--to say +ye're a fine fellow, an' no misthake, at the very moment whin ye know +ye're not. Biogenesis, sir, is the Law of Life. As Schopenhauer says, +the secret that two is wan, is the--"</p> + +<p class="normal">His senior gave an exasperated sigh, and preferred changing the +subject. So at the appointed time, no sooner, no later, the last +patter of pink tears fell from the brushes upon the floor of the +<i>post-mortem</i> and upon the still figure, which might have been a +corpse save for its drowsy applause--"Bravo, boys, bravo!" Then the +caterpillar ladders, with the decorators and the pots of colour-wash +and the brushes still attached to them, crawled away, and the +<i>shâhbâsh wallah</i> followed in their wake, his skin bearing mute +evidence to the amount of work he had provoked.</p> + +<p class="normal">His turban and waistcloth testified to it for days--in lessening +variety of tint as the layers of pink, green, blue, and yellow +splashes wore off--for at least a fortnight, during which time +Surgeon-Major Pringle, busy in making all things conform to his ideal, +constantly came across the <i>shâhbâsh wallah</i> bestowing praise where, +in the doctor's opinion, none was deserved. What right, for instance, +had the water-carriers filling their pots, the sweepers removing the +refuse, to senseless commendation for the performance of their daily +round, their common task?</p> + +<p class="normal">Especially when it was so ill performed; even in the matter of +punkah-pulling, a subject on which the native might be credited with +some knowledge. Surgeon-Major Pringle seethed with repressed +resentment for days over the intermittent pulse of the office punkah, +and finally, in a white heat of discomfort and indignation, burst out +into the verandah, harangued the coolie at length, and in the fulness +of Western energy went so far as to show him how to keep up a regular, +even swing. His masterly grasp of a till then untouched occupation not +only satisfied himself but also the <i>shâhbâsh wallah</i>, who, as usual, +was lounging about in the verandah doing nothing. So, of course, his +"<i>Shâhbâsh, jee, shâhbâsh</i>," preceded Surgeon-Major Pringle's hasty +return to the office and prepared Terence O'Brien for the dictum that +the offender must be sent about his business; for <i>if</i> he was a +camp-follower he <i>must</i> have some business, some regular work.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Worrk, is it?" echoed Terence with his charming smile of pure +sympathy. "Be jabers! yes. Worrk--plenty, but not regular, as a rule. +The man's a torch-bearer. If it happens to be a dark night, and +annybody wants a <i>dhooli</i>, he carries the torch for it."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dr. Pringle's resentful surprise made him stutter: "Do you mean to say +that--that--that--that--the public money--the ratepayers' money--is +wasted in entertaining a whole man for so trivial a task?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Trivial, is it? When he's a pillar of fire by night an' a cloud of +witnesses by day? And then he isn't a whole man, sir, at all at all. +Wan of his legs is shorter than the other. I had to break it twice, +sir, to get it as straight as it is. Thin, I've grave doubts about his +spinal column; and as I trepanned him myself, I know his head isn't +sound. It was two ton of earth fell on him, sir, last rains, when he +was givin' a drink to wan of the Sikhs that got hurt blasting. It's +nasty, shifty stuff, sir, is the mud in these low hills--nasty silted +alluvial stuff, with a bias in it. So, poor divvle! seeing he wasn't +fit for much but the hospital, I put him to the staff of it. And he +kapes things going. Indeed, I wouldn't take it upon myself to say that +he doesn't do the native patients as much good as half the drugs I +exhibit to the unfortunate craythurs, since for sheer mystherious +dispensations of Providence commend me to the British pharmacopœia."</p> + +<p class="normal">Once again Surgeon-Major Pringle felt that professional dignity could +best be served by silent contempt, and orders that the offender was, +at least, not to loaf about the verandahs.</p> + +<p class="normal">But the fates were against the fiat. In the moonless half of May, +driest of all months, a Hindu returning from Hurdwar fell sick, and +half-an-hour after the report, Surgeon-Captain Terence O'Brien, going +out of the ward with his senior, paused in his cheerful whistling of +"Belave me, if all those endearing young charms," to say under his +breath, "Cholera, mild type." Now cholera, no matter of what type, has +an ugly face when seen for the first time, especially when the face +which looks into it, wondering if it means life or death, has youth in +its eyes. So in the dark nights the <i>dhooli</i> came into requisition, +and with it the torch-bearer, until the green and the blue and yellow +wards overflowed into the verandahs, and even the pink <i>post-mortem</i> +claimed its final share of boys. Not a large one, however, since, as +Terence O'Brien said, "It was wan of those epidemics when ye couldn't +rightly say a man had cholera till he died of it."</p> + +<p class="normal">It was bad enough, however, to make the Surgeon-Major, who had never +seen one before, set to work when it passed, suddenly as it had come, +to cipher out averages, and tabulate treatments, with a view to what +is called future guidance. And so, as he confided to his assistant +with great complacency, it became clear as daylight that the largest +percentage of recoveries, their rapidity, and as a natural corollary +the incidence of mildness in the attack itself, seemed in connection +with the position of the cots. Those close to the doors, or actually +on the verandahs, were the most fortunate, and so he was inclined to +believe in the value of currents of fresh air.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Fresh air, is it?" echoed Terence, with an encouraging smile. "Maybe; +maybe not. God knows, it may be anything in the wide wurrld, since +there's but wan thing you can bet your bottom dollar on in cholera, +sir, and that is that ye can't tell anything about it for certain, and +that your experience of wan epidemic won't be that of the next."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Neither does your experience, Mr. O'Brien," retorted his senior, +sarcastically, "militate against mine being more fortunate. I mean to +leave no stone unturned to arrive at reliable <i>data</i> on points which +appear to me to have been overlooked. For instance, I shall begin by +asking those cases of recovery if they remember anything which seemed +at the time to bring them relief, to stimulate in them that vitality +which it is so essential to preserve."</p> + +<p class="normal">In pursuance of which plan he went out then and there to the verandah, +where a dozen or more lank boys were lounging about listlessly, just +beginning to feel that life might soon mean more than a grey duffle +dressing-gown and a long chair.</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, sir," said the first, firmly. "I disremember anythin' that +done me good. I jest lay with a sickenin' pain in my inside, an' a +don't-care-if-I-do feelin' outside." He paused, and another boy took +up the tale sympathetically.</p> + +<p class="normal">"So it was. A reg'lar, don't-care except w'en that little 'eathen--'im +that's always saying <i>shâhbâsh</i>, sir, come along; an' that seem +to me most times. 'E made me feel a blamed sight--beggin' pardon, +sir--worse. For I kep' thinkin' of where I see 'im first, like a alley +taw in the dead 'ouse; and the dead 'ouse isn't a cheerful sorter +think w'en you ain't sure but wot you're going there. It made me--" he +paused in his turn.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Made you what?" asked Terence O'Brien, who had followed to listen.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Give me the 'orrors, sir, till I'd 'ave swopped all I knew to kick +'im quiet; but not bein' able, I jest lay and kep' it for 'im against +I could, till it seemed like as I must; an' so I will."</p> + +<p class="normal">"In cases of extreme nervous depression, sir," began the junior, +mischievously, "a counter irritant--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Pshaw!" interrupted Dr. Pringle, angrily, and walked back with great +dignity to the office.</p> + +<p class="normal">But the conversation thus started lingered among the grey +dressing-gowns, the result of comparing notes being a general verdict +that "Alley taw" deserved that kicking. He did not actually get it, +however; the boys were too big, and he too small for that. But he sank +into still greater disrepute, becoming, in truth, that most unenviable +of all things not made nor created, but begotten of idle wit--a +garrison butt. Not that he seemed to care much. He grew more furtive +in his lounging, but nothing seemed to disturb the divine calm of his +commendation for the world which he had created for himself with his +"Bravo, boys, bravo!" Behold, all things in it were very good! That, +at least, was Terence O'Brien's fanciful way of looking at the +position. As he went about his work whistling "Belave me, if all those +endearing young charms"--a tune which, he said, cheered the boys--he +would often pause to smile at the <i>shâhbâsh wallah</i>. After a time, +however, the smile would change to a quick narrowing of the eyes, as +if something in the bearing of the man was puzzling. Finally, one day, +coming upon the man sidling along a bit of brick wall, which had been +built to strengthen a crack in the mud one overhanging the dry +watercourse, he pulled up, asked a few rapid questions, and then +lifted the man's eyelids and peered into the soft brown eyes, as if he +wanted to see through them to a crack he knew of in the back of the +man's skull.</p> + +<p class="normal">"And you are sure you see as well as ever?" he asked again.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Quite as well, <i>Huzoor</i>," came the answer, with a faint tremor in it. +"I can see to carry the torch on the darkest of nights if it is +wanted, <i>Huzoor!</i>"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hm!" said Dr. O'Brien, doubtfully, promising himself to test the +truth of this statement. But the fates again decreed otherwise. The +next day's mail brought orders for him to go and act elsewhere for a +senior on two months' leave.</p> + +<p class="normal">Dr. Pringle was not sorry. How could you collaborate properly with a +man who calmly admitted that at a pinch he had used a bullet-mould to +extract a tooth?</p> + +<p class="normal">The monsoon had long since broken in the plains ere the young doctor +returned; but in the arid tract in which Fort Lawrence lay rain came +seldom at any time. And that was a year of abnormal drought. The +fissures in the mud seemed to widen with the heat, and the fringe of +green oleanders which followed every turn of the dry watercourse, +mutely witnessing to unseen moisture below, wilted and drooped. In the +new-built fort itself a crack or two showed in the level platform +jutting out across the low valley on which the building stood, and in +more than one place portions of the low mud-cliffs crumbled and broke +away. The whole earth, indeed, seemed agape with thirst.</p> + +<p class="normal">But water in plenty came at last. On the very day, in fact, when +Terence O'Brien returned to the fort, which he reached on foot, having +had to leave his <i>dhooli</i> behind, owing to a small slip on the road; +nevertheless, as he crossed over from the mess to his quarters close +to the hospital that evening, he told himself that he had the devil's +own luck to be there at all. For the rain was then hitting the hard +ground with a distinct thud, and spurting up from it in spray, showing +white against the black mirk of the night. And the rush of the stream +filling up the dry bed of the watercourse, and playing marbles with +the boulders, was like a lion's roar.</p> + +<p class="normal">It did not keep him awake, however, for he was dead tired. So he slept +the sleep of the just. For how long he did not know. It was darker +than ever when he woke suddenly--why he knew not, and with the same +blind instinct was out into the open, quick as he could grope his way.</p> + +<p class="normal">Not an instant too soon, either. A deafening crash told him that, +though he could not see his own hand. The rain had ceased, but the +rush of the river dulled hearing to all lesser sounds. As he stood +dazed, he staggered, slipped, almost fell. Was that an earthquake, or +was the solid ground parting somewhere close at hand? And if his house +was down, how about the hospital and the sick folk?</p> + +<p class="normal">He turned at the thought and ran till, in the dark and the silence of +that overwhelming roar, he came full tilt upon some one else running +in the dark also. It was the Surgeon-Major.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The hospital's down. Have you a light--anything--a match?" panted Dr. +Pringle. "We must have a light to see--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Oh, masâl! Oh, masâl-jee!</i>" (Oh, the torch! Oh, the torch-bearer!) +shouted Terence at the top of his voice as he ran on till stopped by +something blocking the way. Ruins! And that was the sound of voices.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What's up?" he cried.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don' know, sir," came from unseen hearers. "Part o' the 'orspital's +down, but we can't see. It's a slide o' some sort, for there's a crack +right across nigh under our feet. If we could get a light!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Oh, masâl! Oh, masâl-jee!</i>" The doctor's voice rang out again +towards the camp-followers' lines, but the roar was deafening. And in +the night, when all men are asleep, the news of disaster travels +slowly. Yet without a light it was impossible even to realise what had +happened, still less to help the sick who might lie crushed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Oh, masâl! Oh, masâl-jee!</i>--thank God! there's a light at last."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was, in the far distance across the quadrangle. But it was not a +torch; it was only an officer in a gorgeous sleeping-suit running with +a bedroom candle. Still it was a light!</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come on, man!" shouted Terence O'Brien, as it slackened speed, +paused, stopped dead. His was the only voice that seemed to carry +through the roar.</p> + +<p class="normal">But the gay sleeping-suit stood still, waving its candle.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's the crack, sir," called some one in Terence O'Brien's ear. "It +goes right across, I expect--we'd best find out first."</p> + +<p class="normal">It did. A yawning fissure, twenty feet wide, had cut the hospital +compound in two, and isolated one angle of the fort--that nearest the +river--from the rest. Twenty feet wide, at least, judged by the +glimmer of light! And how deep? Had the river cut it? Was it only a +matter of time when the mud island on which they stood should be swept +away? And what were the means of escape? There was more light now; +more bedroom candles and sleeping-suits; a lamp or two, and others +behind, as the boys--last to wake--came running, to pause like the +first-comers, at the unpassable gulf; for the more it could be seen, +the more difficult seemed the task of crossing it at once. By-and-by, +perhaps, with ladders and ropes it would be possible--but now? Terence +O'Brien, feeling the "now" imperative, skirted the crumbling edge +almost too near for safety in his eagerness to find some foothold for +a daring man; but there was none. True, the brick wall, built to +strengthen the cracked mud one, still bridged the extreme end of the +fissure, looking as if the mud had deliberately shrunk from its +intrusion. It hung there half seen, on God knows what slender +foundation--perhaps on none. But it could give no help. To trust it +would be madness; a touch might send it down into the river below. No! +Since none could cross the gap there must be more light on the farther +side; torches, a bonfire, anything to pierce the dark and let men see +how to help themselves and other men!</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Oh, masâl! Oh, masâl-jee-ân!</i>" The cry went out with all the force +of his lungs. Surely the camp-followers must be awake by now.</p> + +<p class="normal">One was, at any rate; for, surrounded by a halo from the faggot of +blazing pitch-pine it carried, a figure showed upon the path worn, +close to the mud walls of the native quarters, by the foot-tracks of +those whose duty took them to the hospital. It was the <i>shâhbâsh +wallah</i>, coming slowly, almost indifferently, in answer to the call; +coming as if to his ordinary duty towards the growing fringe of +ineffectual candles and eager men bordering the impossible. That was +better! Given half-a-dozen more such haloes--and there were plenty if +they would only come--and eager men on the other side would see how to +help themselves and their comrades!</p> + +<p class="normal">But no other halo appeared behind the one which followed the +foot-track of others so closely; and so once again the call was +given--</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Oh, masâl! Oh, masâl-jee-ân! Oh, masâl! Oh, masâl-jee!</i>"</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Hâzr, Huzoor!</i>" (Present, sir).</p> + +<p class="normal">The nearness of the voice made Terence O'Brien look up, for it was +the first voice he had heard clearly from the other side against that +roar of the river. But as he looked another voice beside him said +hurriedly--</p> + +<p class="normal">"My God! he's coming across!"</p> + +<p class="normal">He was. Surrounded by the halo of his own light, and keeping +religiously to the beaten path, the <i>shâhbâsh wallah</i>, leaving the mud +wall of the quarters, had struck the outer brick one as it stood, +supported for a few yards by a spit of earth upon which the foot-track +showed as the light passed. A spit narrowing to nothing--no! not to +nothing, but to a mere ledge of earth and mortar clinging like a +swallow's nest to the brick--wider here, narrower there, yet still +able to give faint foothold upon the traces of those feet which had +passed and repassed so often to their trivial round, their common +task. Foothold! Ay! But what of the brain guiding the feet? What of +the courage guiding the brain?</p> + +<p class="normal">And even then, what of the foundation?</p> + +<p class="normal">A sort of murmur rose above the roar. "He can't do +it--impossible--tell him. Call to him, O'Brien. Tell him not to try."</p> + +<p class="normal">The doctor stood for one second watching the figure centring its +circle of light against the background of wall; then, even though +there was no need for it, his voice fell to a whisper. "Hush!" he +said. "Don't hustle him. By the Lord who made me, he doesn't know; +he's feeling his way every inch by the wall! He's blind, and by God! +if anybody can do it, he will."</p> + +<p class="normal">He did. Step by step, slowly, confidently, in the footsteps of others.</p> + +<p class="normal">And the great cry of "Bravo, brother, bravo!" which went up from both +sides of the gap as he and his torch stepped on to firm ground, +brought him as much surprise as a voice from heaven might have done.</p> + +<br> +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:20pt">* * * * *</p> +<br> + +<p class="normal">"Pressure on the brain!" said Surgeon-Captain Terence O'Brien, about +three weeks after this, when he and Dr. Pringle had had a consultation +over the <i>shâhbâsh wallah</i>. He was not only blind now, but there was a +drag in the good leg as he limped about, over which both doctors shook +their heads. "And there's nothing to be done that I can see. The bhoys +will miss him!"</p> + +<p class="normal">That was true. Alley Taw had come into favour since the night when, as +Terence phrased it, "he had done a brave deed without doing it," and +by failing to see the evil, had enabled other men to do good. For the +torch had not disclosed irretrievable disaster, and by timely rescue +not a life had been lost.</p> + +<p class="normal">Surgeon-Major Pringle frowned. He was beginning to understand his +India a little, but the idea of the <i>shâhbâsh wallah</i> being a useful +member of society was still as a red rag to a bull. And so, out of +sheer contrariety, he began to talk doctor's talk as to the +possibility of this or that.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's life or death, annyhow," said the junior, shaking his head, "but +I don't see it. I wouldn't thry it myself--not now at any rate."</p> + +<p class="normal">Perhaps not then. But after a month or two more he said, "It's your +suggestion; I don't belave it can be done; but you may as well thry."</p> + +<p class="normal">For the <i>shâhbâsh wallah</i>, half paralysed, had even given up his cry. +So, part of the hospital being still under repair, they took him to +the pink <i>post-mortem</i> house and set all the doors and windows wide +for more light. He was quite unconscious by that time, so Terence +O'Brien only had the chloroform handy, and kept his finger on the +pulse. Half-a-dozen or more of the boys were on the mud steps over +against the hospital compound waiting to hear the <i>shâhbâsh wallah's</i> +fate. But you might have heard a pin drop in the <i>post-mortem</i>, +save for the occasional quick request for this or that as the +Surgeon-Major, with the Surgeon-Captain's eyes watching him, set his +whole soul and heart and brain on doing something that had never been +done before.</p> + +<p class="normal">So the minutes passed. Was it to be failure or success? The +Surgeon-Major's fingers were deft--none defter.</p> + +<p class="normal">The minutes passed to hours. That which had to be done had to be done +with one touch light as a feather, steady as a rock, perfect in its +performance, or not at all.</p> + +<p class="normal">And still the minutes passed. Terence O'Brien's face was losing some +of its eagerness in sympathy, Dr. Pringle's gaining it in anxiety; for +clear, insistent, not-to-be-silenced doubt was making itself heard. +Only the <i>shâhbâsh wallah</i> cared not at all as he lay like a corpse.</p> + +<p class="normal">It had come to the last chance. The last; and Dr. Pringle, with a +pulse of wild resentment at his own weakness, realised that his nerve +was going, his hand shaking. Still, it had to be done. The splinter of +bone raised--the whole process he had thought out as the last chance +gone through. He steadied himself and began. Failure or success? +Failure--failure--failure! The word beat in on his heart and brain, +bringing unsteadiness to both.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dresser, the chloroform," said Terence O'Brien, sharply; for there +was a quiver in the man's eyelids.</p> + +<p class="normal">But ere the deadening drug did its work, the <i>shâhbâsh wallah's</i> +brain, set free to work along familiar lines by the raising of that +splintered bone, had sent its old message to his lips--</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Shâhbâsh, bhaiyan, shâhbâsh!</i>"</p> + +<p class="normal">In telling the story Dr. Pringle says no more; generally because he +cannot.</p> + +<p class="normal">But after a time, if you are a brother craftsman, he will give you all +details of the biggest and most successful operation he ever did.</p> + +<p class="normal">And though he is slow to allow the corollary, he never denies that the +<i>shâhbâsh wallah's</i> verdict put courage into him.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_most" href="#div1Ref_most">THE MOST NAILING BAD SHOT IN +CREATION</a></h2> +<br> + +<p class="normal">This again is one of poor Craddock's stories which he told me +when we were stretching a steel-edged ribbon of rail across shifting +sandhills; that ribbon uniting West to East on which, a few years +later, he met his death in trying to rid the permanent-way of +something which Fate had decreed should be permanently in the way.</p> + +<p class="normal">It happened in mutiny time; shortly after his appearance down the +King's Well, which is told elsewhere. He was serving as a volunteer in +one of the breastworks which, as the long hot-weather months dragged +by, began to seam and sear the face of the red rocks on the Ridge at +Delhi; creeping nearer and nearer to the red face of the city wall.</p> + +<p class="normal">And with him, as the catch phrase runs, "lay" Joe Banks, the +Yorkshireman; tall, stolid, silent. Good-looking also, with a thick +close crop of curly brown hair and hard, honest blue eyes. He was not +stupid by any means; only phenomenally silent, except when the talk +turned on women, and then, as Craddock put it tersely, he "damned +free"; perhaps because, as the latter worthy used to add with a +suspicion of sympathy in his drink-blurred face, he had "cared a sight +deal too much for one woman to 'ave much likin' left for the lot."</p> + +<p class="normal">To one side of the breastwork lay a dry ravine where every day the +vipers used to sun themselves on the hot red rocks. Just across it, +within range, rose a small Mahomedan shrine amid sparse brushwood, +which thickened a bit till it was barred by the ruined wall of a +garden where the slow oxen circled round the well, sending runnels of +slippery-looking water to the scented shade of citrons, roses, and +mangoes, heedless of the great cannon-balls which sometimes came +trundling, like playthings, down the wide walks. Not often, though, +for the stress of strife lay at the other angle of the breastwork +which faced the city wall.</p> + +<p class="normal">Still, those who came to smoke a hard-earned pipe in what was the +safest spot in the outpost, soon found that the pious-looking shrine, +the peaceful garden, were not always so innocent as they looked. In +the dusk of dark or dawn they were tenanted by what, after a time, the +men agreed to call the "most nailin' bad shot in creation." "The +direction wasn't, so to speak, so bad, sir," Craddock used to explain +to me. "'E'd about 'ave 'it the sea-serpent for length; it was the +elevation which, as Bull's-eyes said, savin' your presence, sir, was +d----ficient. The top o' the Monument was about in it, sir, an' that +was why the only feller as really use langwidge was Joe Banks; for 'e +was a 'ead and shoulders higher than the lot o' us." So when, in the +dark, a flash used to glimmer for a second among the brushwood like a +firefly, the men learnt to sing out, "That's for you, Joey," "Duck, my +darlin', duck," and other witticisms of that kind, until the big +Yorkshireman's face darkened beyond jesting-point: for he had the +devil's own temper when roused. It was this, joined to his extreme +good looks and a somewhat hazy recollection of the Bible and the +classics among the volunteers, which earned him the nickname of +Apollyon. So to soothe him, some of the wilder spirits would organise +a charge over the ravine, scattering, perhaps, a few drowsy adders +which had forgotten to go to bed; but nothing else. The blind old +fakeer in the shrine was always fast asleep, the bullocks in the +garden circling slowly, driven by a drowsy lad curled up behind them.</p> + +<p class="normal">So the days passed; and, despite practice, the Most Nailin' Bad Shot +shot badly as ever. The odds, however, as the men pointed out gravely +to Apollyon, kept on improving; so that sooner or later there must be +a "casualty" in the garrison of Number One outpost. Joey, too, would +get careless; he wouldn't smart enough, etc., etc. And, sure enough, +one evening just as the moonlight was mixing with the daylight, and +Joey Banks had risen to his full height in a huff because Craddock for +once had sided against him in the perennial argument as to whether it +was worth while fighting for women who didn't know what they would be +at, and hadn't the pluck of a mouse, one of these firefly flashes was +followed by a sudden clapping of the giant's hands to the very crown +of his head.</p> + +<p class="normal">"We looked, sir," Craddock used to say gravely, with that reminiscent +biblical knowledge of his which had doubtless supplied Apollyon, "for +'im to fall dead; as 'e deserve rich; for 'e'd been damnin' uncommon +free, sir. But 'e only use it worse. And then, savin' your presence, +sir, we see that 'e'd 'ad, so ter speak, a narrer-gauge line laid down +thro' 'is jungle--right through 'is curls, sir. Lordy! 'ow we laughed. +It was a lady, we told 'im, as wanted some locks an' no mistake. It +sorter made 'im mad, for 'e just stooped and gathered the lot--bein' +fair, you could see it shinin' in the dust--together.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'She shall 'ave 'em, never fear,' 'e says, quiet like. 'Yes! the +person who fired that shot shall 'ave more o' my 'air than he reckons +for.'"</p> + +<p class="normal">Just at that moment, however, one of those sudden alarms which for +three months kept the men and officers before Delhi on the alert by +day and night broke up the company, and so Joe Banks' loss passed out +of most minds. Except his own, of course. It lingered there, aided by +that narrow gauge over his brain on which the cool night wind blew +pleasantly.</p> + +<p class="normal">So when the alarm passed, instead of coming back to rest, he crept out +surreptitiously by the back of the breastwork, for such sorties were +strictly out of order, and so by a slant downwards across the ravine. +It was a brilliant moonlight night, and he caught the sparkle of many +a deadly pair of eyes among the rocks. But he was in no mood to step +aside from any danger, and once beyond fear of recall he strode along +straight as if the whole place belonged to him; it might have, for all +the opposition he met. The fakeer was asleep as usual, the oxen +circling round the well, and in the scented shade of the roses and +citrons he could find nothing save some drowsy birds who fluttered and +twittered helplessly as his tall head forced a way through the +thickets.</p> + +<p class="normal">Feeling ill-used, he set his face back towards the breastwork, until +the extraordinary peace of the moonlit scene, which, as Craddock +asserted, used in the interval of onslaught to make the beleaguered +city look like the New Jerusalem, brought him to a standstill; first +to look, then to take out his pipe; finally to sit on a rock and think +vaguely of the Yorkshire wolds and of some one, no doubt, who had not +had the courage of her convictions, for after a bit he murmured, "She +were a raight down coward, that's where it is, aw'm thinkin'."</p> + +<p class="normal">He had not much time for reflection, however, for at that moment there +was a flash, a crack, and something whizzed past his left ear. The +Most Nailin' Bad Shot was better at close quarters. His blood was up +in a second, and without pausing to pick up his musket, which he had +laid aside, he was off to the spot whence the flash had come. And +there! <i>whoop forward! gone away!</i> was his quarry for sure, running +like a hare for some hiding-place, no doubt, among the rocks. It might +have been reached, for romance tells of many secret passages between +palaces inside the city and gardens without, but for a true lover's +knot of viper which refused to budge from the path; which made the +flying figure give a screech, and the flying feet, in their effort to +overleap it, miss footing and fall.</p> + +<p class="normal">The next instant Joe Banks was on it as it lay, and conscious even in +his hurry that what he gripped was something young and soft--a boy, no +doubt--devil's spawn.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Aw'm go<font face="Courier New">ā</font>n ter choak ye on t' hair," he said grimly. "Open yer +domed mouth, d'ye hear?"</p> + +<p class="normal">It was almost as if the prostrate figure understood; but the next +instant a set of gleaming white teeth had closed like a squirrel's +round Joe Banks' first finger. He let off an echoing yell to the +previous screech, and an oddly satisfied smile came to the fierce +little face he could scarcely see for his big hand. It was an oval +face, smooth as a girl's.</p> + +<p class="normal">"That's nowt to Joey Banks, lad, he can kill anoother waay," he +growled savagely, as he shifted a knee to press his prisoner down, +loosened his left hand, his right being detained, and deliberately +drew out one of the many knives stuck in his enemy's waistband. "Aw'll +lay t' hair abun tha' heaart, tha' wrigglin' worm, and driv it +ho<font face="Courier New">ā</font>m--that aw wull."</p> + +<p class="normal">In pursuance of which plan, he undid an embroidered satin waistcoat, +and began to push aside an inner muslin vest. A whiff of musk and +roses mingled with the moonlight.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Stinks and bites like a foumart," he muttered. "Soa lie thee still, +will tha? an' tak' that to thissen ma--gor amoighty!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Joe Banks was on his feet; so was his enemy. Both dazed, uncertain. +Flight seemed to come uppermost to the latter's thought, when the big +man suddenly laughed a low chuckle of sheer amusement.</p> + +<p class="normal">"An' t' coom like a wild cat at Joey Banks--that caps owt!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The next instant he was grappling with a whirlwind of knives and +nails, anything.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Woa! woa! ma lass! Hands off, tha little vixen, till a' git a look at +tha!" he said soothingly, as he prisoned two small hands in one huge +fist, and with the other held his adversary almost tenderly at arm's +length. What he saw, as he afterwards described it to Craddock, was +just a "moit o' pistols an' pouches."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well! well! <i>Aw'm,--aw'm</i> jiggered!" he exclaimed at last; adding +argumentatively, "Whatten iver mad tha' go fur t' do it, tha foolish +lass?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Something in his broad, not unkindly rebuke seemed to take the starch +out of the Most Nailin' Bad Shot. It seemed to cower in on itself and +become smaller; though, as Joe Banks told himself perplexedly, it had +been small enough to begin with.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, aw <i>am</i> jiggered," he repeated more softly. "Whatten iver mad +tha' do it, ma lass?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The answer was feminine and disconcerting; a sudden storm of tears. So +they stood, the quaintest couple in the world. She bristling with cold +steel of sorts; he bareheaded in the moonlight, with nothing but his +hands for weapons.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dunnot," he said soothingly, not without a certain trepidation. "Aw'm +no<font face="Courier New">ā</font>n go<font face="Courier New">ā</font>n t' hurt thee, ma gell. We'm not thaat soort t' +womenkind; an' tha's a main pratty gell." Here he laughed softly; a +laugh that was lost in a third--</p> + +<p class="normal">"Wall, aw'm <i>jiggered</i>."</p> + +<p class="normal">He appeared to be so, for he ceased thrusting her from him--she being, +indeed, too much engaged with tears to make it dangerous--and passed +his hand over his forehead as if to clear his brain.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Aw'm no<font face="Courier New">ā</font>n go<font face="Courier New">ā</font>n t' hurt tha, ma lass," he repeated suddenly, as +if for his own information. "Aw'm nobbut go<font face="Courier New">ā</font>n t' shame tha' fur +tha' badness."</p> + +<p class="normal">And with that he lifted her right up like a baby, sate down on a +neighbouring rock, and set her on his knee.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Thou'rt as light as a feather," he said almost admiringly. "An' t' +coom at Jooey Banks like a wild cat; for sure it caps owt; but thou'rt +a bad gell, an' mun be shamed. So set tha still an' be doon wi' it."</p> + +<p class="normal">Once more he might have claimed comprehension, for the Most Nailin' +Bad Shot sate still; with the half-wicked, half-frightened look of a +curious squirrel, as one by one he transferred knives and pistols to +his own person. It was rather a lengthy business by reason of his +right hand--the one that had been bitten--being still occupied in +prisoning hers. Not that she struggled; on the contrary, she sate +curiously still, checking even her sobs.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Now for t' hair," he went on methodically, pulling off the large +green turban wound around the small head. He sate half perturbed and +breathless after this was done, and the half-wicked, half-frightened +dark eyes watching him, seemed to admit a faint smile.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Whew-w-w," he said under his breath, "it's long, for sartin sure." It +was, and a faint scent of orange-blossom assailed him as he loosed the +plaits. His hand trembled among them a little, and lingered.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Aw mun be as good's ma word," he muttered, "as Joey Banks' word. See +tha here--sit tha still, there's a good lass, an' let me hurry up; +wilt thee?" There was almost an appeal in his voice, and both hands +shook a little as the long black tresses twined themselves about the +big fingers like snakes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Aw'm no<font face="Courier New">ā</font>n go<font face="Courier New">ā</font>n t' hurt," he reiterated blandly; when, perhaps +fortunately, the whole bewildering face before him relapsed into a +mischievous smile, and one small finger pointed derisively to the +crown of his head. He flushed up scarlet.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Thee'm nobbut a wicked, bad gell," he said fiercely, "an' Joey +Banks'll shame tha--a bold hussy." So he set her on her feet, and +attacked her last bit of masculinity. This was a long, green waistband +wound about her middle, and which had carried a score or so of +pistols, yataghans, and Heaven knows what murderous weapons. Of this +portion of the toilette Craddock said it was hard to get Joey Banks to +speak at all, and when he did, his voice dropped to a whisper, and he +looked positively scared. She was so main slender, he said, that he +thought he would never have done unwinding, though after a bit she +helped cheerfully by twiddling like a teetotum. At last, however, she +stood there, slim, girlish, her long hair shimmering, her dark eyes +shining, half with tears, half with smiles.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'An' then, Joey?' I arst 'im, sir, when 'e sate mumchance," Craddock +interpolated.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Aw out wi' 'Fower angels rouand ma bed,' man, an' a' up wi' her in ma +arms, an' a' kissed her fair an' oft, man, fair an' oft, just t' shame +her, an' a' runned awaay. That's what a' did--aw runned awaay."</p> + +<p class="normal">Half-way across the ravine, however, he paused to pick up his musket +and look back. The Most Nailin' Bad Shot in creation was standing +where he had left her, her face hidden in her hands. For an instant +something tore at his heart, bidding him go back; then he set his +teeth with an oath, and ran on. Five minutes afterwards he had slipped +into a favourite cranny of rock beside Craddock and was puffing away +at his pipe as if nothing had happened, absolutely silent, till, +according to the latter's report, he "give a silly sort of laugh," and +in the moonlight his eyes could be seen shining like stars as he +turned and said softly--</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, lad--a' ha' dune it this toime."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Done what, Apollyon?" asked Craddock.</p> + +<p class="normal">"A' dunnot roightly kna', but a' ha' dune it, for sartin sure," +replied Joe Banks, succinctly; and then he told the story.</p> + +<p class="normal">"One of them <i>gazes</i><a name="div4Ref_01" href="#div4_01"><sup>[1]</sup></a> as they call 'em," interrupted Craddock, when +the big man told of his discovery in a sort of hushed voice. "They +makes 'em male an' female--the latter most wicious. Bad lots out o' +the bazaar, needin' a passport to the skies--or the devil."</p> + +<p class="normal">Joey Banks' big fist came down like a sledgehammer on Craddock's knee.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hush, mon!" he said peremptorily. "She woan't none that sort. When a' +kissed her--" he stopped short, and blushed furiously.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Apollyon!" remarked Craddock, after a pause, with great severity. "It +ain't wholesome to keep sech things comfortable in yer own buzzum. +It's better to 'ave up an' done with it an' begin agin. When you kiss +her--w'ot then?"</p> + +<p class="normal">But Joe Banks' shining eyes were looking out into the soft darkness, +soft and dark for all their shininess. "A' meant to 'a' keppen +coont--but a' didn't somehow." His voice was quite dreamy, and +Craddock rose in wrath.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's my belief, same as I was in the catechising, Joey Banks, +that you bin an' fallen in love with a female <i>gaze</i>; but mark my +word--there ain't no gratitoode to speak of in <i>gazes</i>, and she'll +nick you yet, sure as my name's Nathaniel James. She'll nick you yet, +I du assure you."</p> + +<p class="normal">But Craddock was wrong. Whatever else she did, the Most Nailin' Bad +Shot shot no more. Not that it mattered much to Joey Banks whether she +did or not, since but a few days after there was a "casoolty" in +Number One outpost, Volunteer Joseph Banks, sometime canal overseer, +was reported missing after a sortie; but as he had been last seen +mortally wounded close to the city wall, his comrades mourned Apollyon +from the first as dead. So as Craddock said feelingly, "there weren't +even a lock o' 'is 'air for 'is old mother, an' she was a widder."</p> + +<p class="normal">Not that there was much time for mourning in the outpost, since the +long months of the siege were drawing to a close. Then came the final +assault, the ten days of struggle within the city, until even the +Palace was ours, and the army which had taken it prepared to move on +elsewhere. It was the evening before the start, and Craddock, who, as +a volunteer, had more liberty to go and come as he chose, went down to +the now deserted outpost to smoke a last pipe, and think over the past +with the pleasing melancholy which goes so admirably with tobacco.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Poor Joey Banks!" he thought, as memory came round to that episode, +"'im an' 'is female <i>gaze</i>. I shan't never forget 'em."</p> + +<p class="normal">I will tell the rest in Craddock's own words; they suit it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I look up, sir, an' you might 'ave knock me over with a ninepin, for +there was Joey, lookin' as spry as spry. 'Joey,' says I, takin' it as +one does, sir, for all them sayin's of ninepins and feathers and such +like, quite calm, 'so you're not dead?'</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Na! lad,' he says back, as calm like. 'Aw'm go<font face="Courier New">ā</font>n t' be married, +an' a've coom t' get t' best man.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"It took me all of a 'eap, sir, sorter Malachi an' the minor prophets, +sir, as things does sometimes. 'Joey, my boy,' I says, 'you ain't +never goin' to marry a female <i>gaze?</i>' says I.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But 'e was, sir. Ter cut a long story short, she'd found 'im an' +nursed him. An' we all knows wot that means, white or black, sir. 'E'd +a 'eap to tell--though Lord knows where 'e got it, for 'e didn't know +no 'Industani to speak of, sir--about 'ow she lived in quite a fine +'ouse an' 'ow her father an' brothers 'ad bin killed, so as she kinder +'adn't no choice but <i>gazing</i>. But I wasn't to be took with chaff, so +I says to 'im quite solemn like, 'Afore I'm best man, I've got to +know, Joey--is she square?' 'E just looked at me, sir, as if I were +slush.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'She'd gotten ma hair in t' buzzum,' he said, an' said no moor.</p> + +<p class="normal">"So I gave my word to be best man, sir, an' 'e sighed like as a weight +was took off him. 'Then coom awa' wi' me t' passon,' says 'e, 'fur I'm +go<font face="Courier New">ā</font>n t' be marrid afoor aw goes with t' army to-morer.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Then you've 'ad the banns cried,' says I, for my father bein' +bell-ringer same as give me my name in 'oly baptism, sir, I was up to +them dodges. 'E give me a real Apollyon frown, sir.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Na, lad; aw've no<font face="Courier New">ā</font>n had nought cried, but aw'm go<font face="Courier New">ā</font>n t' wed her +fair afoor a' fight, so save t' breath an' coom t' passon.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, sir, parson wasn't a bad chap, as I knowed, 'aving seen 'im +doing dooty stiddily like the rest o' us, but 'e'd got 'is black coat +on agin, an' 'e were by nature, the canonised red bricky sort; so 'e +wouldn't none o' it, though I stood solemn for Joe like as if I bin +godfather, tellin' 'im 'ow Joe would 'ave bin a deader but for 'er, +an' 'ow she was willin' to become a Christian in 'oly baptism wen she +'ad a chanst, an' 'ow Joe wouldn't never 'ave bin in a 'urry without +bridesmaids but for bein' that eager to fight 'is country's foes +agin--for of course, sir, 'e 'adn't 'ad a look in at anythin' but +beef-tea an' barley water till we took the city.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Why doesn't he wait decently till he comes back?' says parson. 'The +sacrament of marriage is not a responsibility to be entered into +unawares, my good--'</p> + +<p class="normal">"Joe rose up--Lord bless you!--two 'eads taller nor parson. 'Coom +awa'! best man,' 'e says. 'It's waaste toime heere, an' aw'll need tha +at t' mosque; passon theer ar'n't so scrumfumptious, an' she towt ma +t' Kulma this marnin' foor fear'--that's their creed, sir, same as the +<i>Gazes</i>, male an' female, yell when they're a stickin' of you.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well parson 'e brought up sharp at this an' said, 'Stay a bit.' Then +'e look at Joe, an' Joe look at 'im.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Tha see she's gotten t' be ma wife, man,' said Joe apologetic like, +an' parson 'e push 'is red bricky prayer-book away fretful.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'But I don't know anything,' he said. 'I don't even know if she is a +spinster or a widow. Will you swear she hasn't a husband living?'</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, sir, Joe looked at parson, and then 'e looked at me, an' then +'e scratch 'is 'ead--the curls 'ad grown tight as ever, sir--an' then +sudden 'e smile--one o' them smiles like the sun on a daisy, sir.</p> + +<p class="normal">"' Aw dunnot rightly knaw,' says 'e, 'aw nivver arst her,' an' parson +'e look at me an' at 'im and at the solemnisation o' 'oly matrimony as +'f 'e didn't know which was which.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, the end o' it was that the three o' us went down to one o' them +light an' shady open-air houses with a tree growin' out o' a wall, and +a lot o' pigeons. Parson 'e stood in one o' the arches raise up a step +or two, an' they stood in the space below, right in the sun, an' I +stood 'twixt an' between, for you see, sir, I was clerk as well as +best man.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Will you take this woman to be thy wedded wife?' arst parson.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Such is my desire,' says I, in order; but Joe Banks wouldn't none o' +that.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Fur better fur worse,' 'e says, 'fur richer fur poorer, domed if a' +doan't.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"So 'e was wedded to the Most Nailin' Bad Shot in creation."</p> + +<p class="normal">"And was she pretty?" I asked of Craddock.</p> + +<p class="normal">He shook his head. "I niver set eyes on her, sir, though I was best +man. She was wrap up in a white veil, an' 'e kep' her so--said she +liked it--they does, sir, when they've got a good 'usband."</p> + +<p class="normal">"So they lived happy ever after?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not for long, sir--" here Craddock slipped his hands into his pockets +as the first step towards slouching off. "That sort o' thing don't +somehow last long, sir," here his eyes caught the gold of the setting +sun, as they had a trick of doing when they grew soft. "Seems to +me--savin' your presence, sir--as if there was too much o' the Noo +Jerewsalem about that sort o' thing fur this world; that's 'ow it is. +She died, sir, a few years after, when 'e was back in the Canals, in a +God-forsaken spot, where there wasn't no one to--to be best man like. +An' so they found 'im lying beside 'er with a bullet in 'is brain. So +I was a minor prophet after all, an' Joey Banks got nicked at last by +the Most Nailin' Bad Shot in creation."</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_wife" href="#div1Ref_wife">THE REFORMER'S WIFE</a></h2> + +<h3>A SKETCH FROM LIFE</h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">He was a dreamer of dreams, with the look in his large dark eyes, +which Botticelli put into the eyes of his Moses; that Moses in doublet +and hose, whose figure, isolated from its surroundings, reminds one +irresistibly of Christopher Columbus, or Vasco da Gama--of those, in +fact, who dream of a Promised Land.</p> + +<p class="normal">And this man dreamt as wild a dream as any. He hoped, before he died, +to change the social customs of India.</p> + +<p class="normal">He used to sit in my drawing-room, talking to me by the hour of the +Prophet and his blessed Fâtma--for he was a Mahomedan--and bewailing +the sad degeneracy of these present days, when caste had crept into +and defiled the Faith. I shall never forget the face of martyred +enthusiasm with which he received my first invitation to dinner. He +accepted it, as he would have accepted the stake, with fervour, and +indeed to his ignorance the ordeal was supreme. However, he appeared +punctual to the moment on the appointed day, and greatly relieved my +mind by partaking twice of plum-pudding, which he declared to be a +surpassingly cool and most digestible form of nourishment, calculated +to soothe both body and mind. Though this is hardly the character +usually assigned to it, I did not contradict him, for not even his +eager self-sacrifice had sufficed for the soup, the fish, or the +joint, and he might otherwise have left the table in a starving +condition. As it was, he firmly set aside my invitation to drink water +after the meal was over, with the modest remark that he had not eaten +enough to warrant the indulgence.</p> + +<p class="normal">The event caused quite a stir in that far-away little town, set out +among the ruins of a great city, on the high bank of one of the Punjab +rivers; for the scene of this sketch lay out of the beaten track, +beyond the reach of <i>babus</i> and barristers, patent-leather shoes and +progress. Beyond the pale of civilisation altogether, among a quaint +little colony of fighting Pathans who still pointed with pride to an +old gate or two which had withstood siege after siege, in those old +fighting days when the river had flowed beneath the walls of the city. +Since then the water had ebbed seven miles to the south-east, taking +with it the prestige of the stronghold, which only remained a +picturesque survival; a cluster of four-storeyed purple-brick houses +surrounded by an intermittent purple-brick wall, bastioned and +loop-holed. A formidable defence, while it lasted. But it had a trick +of dissolving meekly into a sort of mud hedge, in order to gain the +next stately fragment, or maybe to effect an alliance with one of the +frowning gateways which had defied assault. This condition of things +was a source of sincere delight to my Reformer Futteh Deen (Victory of +Faith) who revelled in similes. It was typical of the irrational, +illogical position of the inhabitants in regard to a thousand +religious and social questions, and just as one brave man could break +through these sham fortifications, so one resolute example would +suffice to capture the citadel of prejudice, and plant the banner of +abstract Truth on its topmost pinnacle.</p> + +<p class="normal">For he dreamt excellently well, and as he sate declaiming his Persian +and Arabic periods in the drawing-room with his eyes half shut, like +one in presence of some dazzling light, I used to feel as if something +might indeed be done to make the Mill of God grind a little faster.</p> + +<p class="normal">In the matter of dining out, indeed, it seemed as if he was right. For +within a week of his desperate plunge, I received an invitation to +break bread with the municipal committee in the upper storey of the +Vice-President's house. The request, which was emblazoned in gold, +engrossed on silk paper in red and black, and enclosed in a brocade +envelope, was signed by the eleven members and the Reformer; who, by +the way, edited a ridiculous little magazine to which the committee +subscribed a few rupees a month. Solely for the purpose of being able +to send copies to their friends at court, and show that they were in +the van of progress. For a man must be that, who is patron of a +"Society for the General Good of All Men in All Countries." I was, I +confess it, surprised, even though a casual remark that now perhaps +his Honour the Lieutenant-Governor would no longer suspect his slaves +of disloyalty, showed me that philanthropy had begun at home. For the +little colony bore a doubtful character, being largely leavened by the +new Puritanism, which Government, for reasons best known to itself, +chooses to confound with Wahabeeism.</p> + +<p class="normal">The entertainment given on the roof amid starshine and +catherine-wheels proved a magnificent success, its great feature being +an enormous plum-pudding which I was gravely told had been prepared by +my own cook. At what cost, I shudder to think; but the rascal's +grinning face as he placed it on the table convinced me that he had +seized the opportunity for some almost inconceivable extortion. But +there was no regret in those twelve grave, bearded faces, as one by +one they tasted and approved. All this happened long before a +miserable, exotic imitation of an English vestry replaced the old +patrician committees, and these men were representatives of the +bluest blood in the neighbourhood, many of them descendants of those +who in past times had held high offices of state, and had transmitted +courtly manners to their children. So the epithets bestowed on the +plum-pudding were many-syllabled; but the consensus of opinion was +indubitably towards its coolness, its digestibility, and its evident +property of soothing the body and the mind. Again I did not deny it. +How could I, out on the roof under the eternal stars, with those +twelve foreign faces showing, for once, a common bond of union with +the Feringhee? I should have felt like Judas Iscariot if I had struck +the thirteenth chord of denial.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Reformer made a speech afterwards, I remember, in which, being +wonderfully well read, he alluded to love-feasts and sacraments, and a +coming millennium, when all nations of the world should meet at one +table, and--well! not exactly eat plum-pudding together, but something +very like it. Then we all shook hands, and a native musician played +something on the <i>siringhi</i> which they informed me was "God Save the +Queen." It may have been. I only know that the Reformer's thin face +beamed with almost pitiful delight as he told me triumphantly that +this was only the beginning.</p> + +<p class="normal">He was right. From that time forth the plum-pudding feast became a +recognised function. Not a week passed without one. Generally--for my +gorge rose at the idea of my cook's extortion--in the summer-house in +my garden, where I could have an excuse for providing the delicacy at +my own expense. And I am bound to say that this increased intimacy +bore other fruits than that contained in the pudding. For the matter +of that it has continued to bear fruit, since I can truthfully date +the beginning of my friendship for the people of India from the days +when we ate plum-pudding together under the starshine.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Reformer was radiant. He formed himself and his eleven into +committees and subcommittees for every philanthropical object under +the sun, and many an afternoon have I spent under the trees with my +work watching one deputation after another retire behind the oleander +hedge in order to permutate itself by deft rearrangement of members, +secretaries, and vice-presidents into some fresh body bent on the +regeneration of mankind. For life was leisureful, lingering and +lagging along in the little town where there was neither doctor nor +parson, policeman nor canal officer, nor in fact any white face save +my own and my husband's. Still we went far and fast in a cheerful, +unreal sort of way. We started schools and debating societies, public +libraries and technical art classes. Finally we met enthusiastically +over an extra-sized plum-pudding, and bound ourselves over to reduce +the marriage expenditure of our daughters.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Reformer grew more radiant than ever, and began in the +drawing-room--where it appeared to me he hatched all his most daring +schemes--to talk big about infant marriage, enforced widowhood, and +the seclusion of women. The latter I considered to be the key to the +whole position, and therefore I felt surprised at the evident +reluctance with which he met my suggestion, that he should begin his +struggle by bringing his wife to visit me. He had but one, although +she was childless. This was partly, no doubt, in deference to his +advanced theories; but also, at least so I judged from his +conversation, because of his unbounded admiration for one who by his +description was a pearl among women. In fact this unseen partner had +from the first been held up to me as a refutation of all my strictures +on the degradation of seclusion. So, to tell truth, I was quite +anxious to see this paragon, and vexed at the constant ailments and +absences which prevented our becoming acquainted. The more so because +this shadow of hidden virtue fettered me in argument, for Futteh Deen +was an eager patriot, full of enthusiasms for India and the Indians. +Once the sham fortifications were scaled, he assured me that +Hindustan, and above all its women, would come to the front and put +the universe to shame. Yet, despite his successes, he looked haggard +and anxious; at the time I thought it was too much progress and +plum-pudding combined, but afterwards I came to the conclusion that +his conscience was ill at ease, even then.</p> + +<p class="normal">So the heat grew apace. The fly-catchers came to dart among the +<i>sirus</i> flowers and skim round the massive dome of the old tomb in +which we lived. The melons began to ripen, first by ones and twos, +then in thousands--gold, and green, and russet. The corners of the +streets were piled with them, and every man, woman, and child carried +a crescent moon of melon at which they munched contentedly all day +long. Now, even with the future good of humanity in view, I could not +believe in the safety of a mixed diet of melon and plum-pudding, +especially when cholera was flying about. Therefore, on the next +committee-day I had a light and wholesome refection of sponge-cakes +and jelly prepared for the philanthropists. They partook of it +courteously, but sparingly. It was, they said, superexcellent, but of +too heating and stimulating a nature to be consumed in quantities. In +vain I assured them that it could be digested by the most delicate +stomach; that it was, in short, a recognised food for convalescents. +This only confirmed them in their view, for, according to the Yunâni +system, an invalid diet must be heating, strengthening, stimulating. +Somehow in the middle of their upside-down arguments I caught myself +looking pitifully at the Reformer, and wondering at his temerity in +tilting at the great mysterious mass of Eastern wisdom.</p> + +<p class="normal">And that day, in deference to my Western zeal, he was to tilt wildly +at the <i>zenâna</i> system.</p> + +<p class="normal">His address fell flat, and for the first time I noticed a distinctly +personal flavour in the discussion. Hitherto we had resolved and +recorded gaily, as if we ourselves were disinterested spectators. +However, the Vice-President apologised for the general tone, with a +side slash at exciting causes in the jelly and sponge-cake, whereat +the other ten wagged their heads sagely, remarking that it was +marvellous, stupendous, to feel the blood running riot in their veins +after those few mouthfuls. Verily such food partook of magic. Only the +Reformer dissented, and ate a whole sponge-cake defiantly.</p> + +<p class="normal">Even so the final Resolution ran thus: "That this committee views with +alarm any attempt to force the natural growth of female freedom, which +it holds to be strictly a matter for the individual wishes of the +man." Indeed it was with difficulty that I, as secretary, avoided the +disgrace of having to record the spiteful rider, "And that if any +member wanted to unveil the ladies he could begin on his own wife."</p> + +<p class="normal">I was young then in knowledge of Eastern ways, and consequently +indignant. The Reformer, on the other hand, was strangely humble, +and tried afterwards to evade the major point by eating another +sponge-cake, and making a facetious remark about experiments and vile +bodies; for he was a mine of quotations, especially from the Bible, +which he used to wield to my great discomfiture.</p> + +<p class="normal">But on the point at issue I knew he could scarcely go against his own +convictions, so I pressed home his duty of taking the initiative. He +agreed, gently. By-and-by, perhaps, when his wife was more fit for the +ordeal. And it was natural, even the <i>mem-sahiba</i> must allow, for +unaccustomed modesty to shrink. She was to the full as devoted as he +to the good cause, but at the same time--Finally, the <i>mem-sahiba</i> +must remember that women were women all over the world--even though +occasionally one was to be found like the <i>mem-sahiba</i> capable of +acting as secretary to innumerable committees without a blush. There +was something so wistful in his eager blending of flattery and excuse +that I yielded for the time, though determined in the end to carry my +point.</p> + +<p class="normal">With this purpose I reverted to plum-puddings once more, and, I fear, +to gross bribery of all kinds in the shape of private interviews and +soft words. Finally I succeeded in getting half the members to consent +to sending their wives to an after-dark at-home in my drawing-room, +provided always that Mir Futteh Deen, the Reformer, would set a good +example.</p> + +<p class="normal">He looked troubled when I told him, and pointed out that the +responsibility for success or failure now lay virtually with him, yet +he did not deny it.</p> + +<p class="normal">I took elaborate precautions to ensure the most modest seclusion on +the appointed evening, even to sending my husband up a ladder to the +gallery at the very top of the dome to smoke his after-dinner cigar. I +remember thinking how odd it must have looked to him perched up there +to see the twinkling lights of the distant city over the soft shadows +of the <i>ferash</i> trees, and at his feet the glimmer of the white +screens set up to form a conventional <i>zenân-khâna</i>. But I waited in +vain--in my best dress, by the way. No one came, though my ayah +assured me that several jealously-guarded <i>dhoolies</i> arrived at the +garden-gate and went away again when Mrs. Futteh Deen never turned up.</p> + +<p class="normal">I was virtuously indignant with the offender, and the next time he +came to see me sent out a message that I was otherwise engaged. I felt +a little remorseful at having done so, however, when, committee-day +coming round, the Reformer was reported on the sick-list. And there he +remained until after the first rain had fallen, bringing with it the +real Indian spring--the spring full of roses and jasmines, of which +the poets and the bul-buls sing. By this time the novelty had worn off +philanthropy and plum-pudding, so that often we had a difficulty in +getting a quorum together to resolve anything; and I, personally, had +begun to weary for the dazzled eyes and the eager voice so full of +sanguine hope.</p> + +<p class="normal">Therefore it gave me a pang to learn from the Vice-President, who, +being a Government official, was a model of punctuality, that in all +probability I should never hear or see either one or the other again. +Futteh Deen was dying of the rapid decline which comes so often to the +Indian student.</p> + +<p class="normal">A recurrence of a vague remorse made me put my pride in my pocket and +go unasked to the Reformer's house, but my decision came too late. He +had died the morning of my visit, and I think I was glad of it.</p> + +<p class="normal">For the paragon of beauty and virtue, of education and refinement, was +a very ordinary woman, years older than my poor Reformer, marked with +the small-pox, and blind of one eye. Then I understood.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_square" href="#div1Ref_square">THE SQUARING OF THE GODS</a></h2> +<br> + +<p class="normal">It was the night before the great Eclipse. A vast, vague expectancy +brooded over the length and breadth of India. Of prophesying there had +been no lack, for signs and wonders had been as blackberries in +September.</p> + +<p class="normal">So, far and near, east, west, south, and north, the people of +Hindustan--many-hued, many-raced, many-faithed--were watching for they +knew not what, watching with grave, silent, yet curious composure.</p> + +<p class="normal">But there was no outward sign of this inward expectation on either +side. The millions of dark faces behind which it lay were as +inscrutable as the telegraph wires through which the mere fraction of +white faces responsible for the safety of those millions of dark ones +were flashing silent messages of warning and preparation.</p> + +<p class="normal">And here, in the Sacred City, beside the Sacred River, in which +multitudes of those millions hoped to bathe on the morrow during the +fateful moments of the sun's eclipse, the dim curves of the world had +never been outlined against a calmer, more restful sky--a sky almost +black in its intensity of shadow. Yet the night was clear, full of a +starlight that could be seen, which showed the bend of the broad +river, angled on one side by the straight lines of its curved sequence +of bathing-steps that swept away to the horizon on either side.</p> + +<p class="normal">The steps themselves, shadowy, vague, were spangled as with stars by +the little trembling lamps of the myriads on myriads of pilgrims +already gathered on them waiting for the dawn. The reflection of these +lamps lay in the water beside the reflection of the stars, making it +hard to tell where heaven ended, where earth begun.</p> + +<p class="normal">Behind this long length of bathing-steps--irregular in height, in +slope, in everything save an inevitable crowning by the tall temple +spires--lay Benares. Benares, the only city in the world--since the +reputation of Rome lives by works as well as faith--whose every stone +tells of that search after righteousness which lies so close to the +heart of humanity. Benares, with its sunless alleys, full of the +perfume of dead flowers and spent incense--alleys which thread their +way past shrine after shrine, holy place after holy place; mere niches +in a worn stone, perhaps, or less even than that; only the bare +imprint of a bloody hand on the tall, blank walls of the crowded +tenement houses which seem to narrow God's sky as they rise up toward +it. Benares, where the alien master steps into the gutter to let a +swinging corpse pass on its way to the Sacred River, but where the +priest behind it--his dark forehead barred with white, or smeared with +a bold patch of ochre--steps into the opposite gutter, and clings to +the shrine-set wall like a limpet, lest he be defiled by a touch, a +shadow. Benares, which is, briefly, the strangest, saddest city on +God's earth.</p> + +<p class="normal">It lay this night, far as the eye could reach along the outward curve +of the Ganges, dreamful exceedingly, dimly paler than the sky. But on +the other side of the river, where the land bulged into the stream, +lay a scene as, dreamful; yet dreamful in a different way; for here, +almost from the water's edge, the young green wheat stretched away +into that level plain of India, the most densely populated +agricultural country in the world, where myriads and myriads of men +live content as the cattle with which they till the soil.</p> + +<p class="normal">So a whole world lies between these two banks of the Ganges; between +the men of whom pilgrims are made, and the pilgrims made of those men. +And spanning them, joining them, aggressively, unsympathetically, is +the railway bridge built by the alien "Bridge-builders."</p> + +<p class="normal">Seen in the starlight, with its lattice of dark girders showing +against the sky, its white piers blocking the water-slide at +intervals, this bridge looked quaintly like a fell and monstrous hairy +caterpillar out for a night-walking, one of those caterpillars with +turreted excrescences at its former and its latter end. The hinder one +here was clearly outlined against a distant block of greater darkness. +This was a dense grove of mango trees; and through its far-off shadow +shone twinkling coloured lights, while from it came fitfully, at the +wind's caprice, a faint sound of drumming, a twangling of <i>sitaras</i>; +for, in the shelter of the grove, some of the white faces who were +responsible for the dark ones were in camp--in a pleasure-camp full of +guests come to see the show, and whither the telegrams of warning +flashed and whence the answers flashed back, even while the <i>nautch</i>, +bidden to amuse those guests, went on and on in twanglings, drummings, +screechings, posturings.</p> + +<p class="normal">Such details, however, were hidden even from the nearest point of the +angled curve of bathing-steps which swept right away to the starlit +horizon on the opposite side of the river. The only movement visible +thence by the waiting crowd, as it looked across the river, was a +curious dazzling flicker, as if the bridge were shivering, which was +caused by the continuous stream on its outer footway of arriving +pilgrims, showing now against the dark girders, now against the paler +sky.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mai Gunga hath her hands full!" murmured one of the group squatting +immovable on these nearest steps; "they come, and come."</p> + +<p class="normal">A face or two, patient, dark, turned to the bridge, and another voice +came, calm, passive.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ay! 'tis easier for folk to find salvation with 'rails' and bridges +than, as of old, with blistered feet and boats." A dark hand nearest +the water's lip, as it lapped a lazy, silvery whisper on the worn +stone steps, slid into the sacred flood with a sort of tentative +caress.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yet they said <i>She</i> would revenge Herself for the rending of Her +bosom, for the burden of bricks laid on Her; but She hath not. She +gives and takes as ever."</p> + +<p class="normal">The long, dark fingers gathered some of the fallen petals which the +river was returning to those who had cast their flower-offering on its +surface, and the dark eyes watched a white-swathed corpse that was +drifting down stream, a faint streak in the slumbering shadow.</p> + +<p class="normal">"True!" came another passive voice; "but the time is not past. There +is to-morrow yet."</p> + +<p class="normal">The absolutely unrepresentable <i>chuck!</i> made by the tongue against the +roof of the mouth, which is the most emphatic denial of India, echoed +suddenly, aggressively, into the peaceful air.</p> + +<p class="normal">It came from the blackness of a low masonry abutment which, traversing +the last three steps, projected a few feet into the river, like a +pier. A yard maybe above the water, some three long, and perhaps a +couple broad, there was just room on its outer end for a small square +temple with a rude spiked spire--the plainest of temples, guiltless of +ornament, looking out over the Ganges blankly. For its only aperture, +a low arched doorway, faced the steps and showed now as a blot of +utter darkness.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not She, brethren!" said a cracked voice following on the denial. +"She or Her like will never harm the <i>Huzoors!</i> They have paid their +toll, see you, they have squared the gods."</p> + +<p class="normal">A dozen or more faces turned to the voice, the figures belonging to +them remaining immovable, as if carved in stone.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dost think so really, Baha-<i>jee?</i>" came a question. "I have heard +that tale before--and that 'tis done in the 'Magic-houses.'"<a name="div4Ref_02" href="#div4_02"><sup>[2]</sup></a></p> + +<p class="normal">The emphatic denial rose again. "Not so! These eyes saw it done--here, +in this very place, forty years ago! here, at Mai Kâli's shrine!"</p> + +<p class="normal">In the pause that followed, a pair of claw-like hands could be seen +above the bar of shadow, wavering salaams to the little temple, in the +perfunctory manner of priesthood all over the world.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Tis old Bishen, the flower-seller," said a yawning voice. "He was +here in the Time of Trouble,<a name="div4Ref_03" href="#div4_03"><sup>[3]</sup></a> and he tells tales of it--when he +remembers!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Then let him tell," yawned another, "since the night is long and the +dawn lingers. How was't done, Baha-<i>jee?</i>"</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a pause.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Many ways, doubtless. Here and there different ways. But here, one +way. Forty years ago, brothers! Yea, forty years ago, these eyes saw +the 'squaring of the gods.' In this wise ..."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was another dreamful pause, and then, from the shadow, came the +old thin voice once more.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yonder, where the bridge stands now, was Broon-<i>sahib's</i> house--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Broon-<i>sahib?</i>" echoed a curious listener. "Dost mean Broon-<i>sahib</i> +who built the bridge?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who built the bridge?" hesitated the tale-teller. "God knows! More +like his son; for the years pass--they pass, Mai Gunga! and I grow +old. Grant me this last cleansing, Mother! Wash me from sin ere I go +hence ..."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Lo! thou hast made him forget the rest," reproved another listener, +"as if there were not Broon-<i>sahibs</i> ever! Even now, here in Benares! +Yes! Baba-<i>jee</i>, of a certainty, Broon-<i>sahib's</i> house stood here, +where the bridge stands now."</p> + +<p class="normal">The old memory, started afresh, went on.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It was a boy, the child. A toddler, but with the temper of tigers. +Lo! it would scream and yell in the <i>ayah's</i> arms, and beat her face +to be let crawl down the steps to pull the spent bosses of the +marigolds out of the water and fling them back like balls. A mite of a +boy; white as jasmine in the face, yellow as the marigolds themselves +in hair. The <i>mem</i>, its mother, had the like face and hair. I used to +see her in the verandah over the river, and driving above the steps. +There were many <i>sahibs</i> came and went to the house, after their +fashion, and she smiled and spoke to them all. There was one of +them--so young, he might have been a son almost--who came often; and +she smiled on him, too, as he played, like a boy, with the child. He +was one of the <i>sahibs</i> who have eyes; so, after a time, he would nod +to me and say '<i>Râm! Râm!</i>' with a laugh as he passed above me, +sitting here in the shadow, selling my garlands.</p> + +<p class="normal">"So, one day, as he came by, there was the baby screaming in its +<i>ayah's</i> arms to be let crawl to the water, and she was denying it by +the <i>mem's</i> orders. What the young <i>sahib</i> said at first I know not; +but after a bit he came running down the steps, the child in his arms, +calling back to the woman, in her tongue, 'Trouble not, <i>ayah!</i> I'll +square it, never fear!'</p> + +<p class="normal">"And there he was beside me, the two white faces, the yellow +heads--for he was but a boy himself, slim, white, yellow-haired--close +together, brother-like, buying a garland of the biggest marigolds I +had. So down at the water's edge, he teaching the child how to throw +them in like a thrower.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'No underhand work, brotherling,' he said in our tongue, for the +baby, after the fashion of the <i>baba-logue</i>, knew none other. 'So! +straight from the shoulder. Bravo! Thou wilt play crickets, by-and-by, +like a man.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"After that once of chance, it came often of set purpose. He would +come down from the house with the child, and I had to keep the biggest +marigolds for the game, since, see you, they held the bits of brick +better with which he weighted them.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Thus it went on till one day all the <i>sahibs</i> and <i>mems</i> were at the +house yonder, for God knows what amusement! and in the cool they +strolled down here--the <i>mems</i> dressed so gay, the <i>sahibs</i> all black +and smoking--to see how well the toddler, who could scarce speak, had +learnt to throw. At least, so it seemed, for they watched and laughed; +but after a time they took to throwing the flowers themselves, +laughing more and jesting, until not a marigold was left. Then they +began on Shivjee's <i>dhatura</i> blossoms, filling their white horns with +pebbles, and hurling them far, far into the stream.</p> + +<p class="normal">"So, when paying time came, the young <i>sahib</i>--he had the child by the +hand--flung rupees into my empty basket, and said, 'Lo! Bishen'--for +he was one of those who remember names--'those who seek to curry +favour with the gods will have no chance to-day. We are beforehand. We +have squared them.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"At this the <i>mem</i>, standing close by, frowned and spoke some reproof; +maybe because she was of those who drive to church often. But the boy +only laughed, and, catching the child up, cried, 'Lo! brotherling, +then are we sinners indeed; since we do it so often, you and I!'</p> + +<p class="normal">"And with that he raced up the steps with the child, calling '<i>Râm, +Râm!</i>' and '<i>Jai Kâli Ma!</i>' like any worshipper; so that the <i>mem</i> +and +the others strolling after could not but laugh. And some echoed the +cry as they went up the steps."</p> + +<p class="normal">The old voice paused in its even sing-song; and when it began again, +there was a new note in it which seemed to bring a sense of hurry and +stress even to that uttermost peace.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But they came down again. How long after matters not. I see them so +in my old eyes. Going up, laughing in the sunset, then returning. It +was starlight when they came down, the <i>mems</i> and the <i>sahibs</i> and the +<i>baba-logue</i>. Starlight as it was now, brethren, but not still, like +this. There were cries, and flames yonder, and folk running.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The boats lay here below the temple. And one--a Mahomedan--came with +them, promising safety. So they begun to get into the boats, and one +moved off, the crowd looking on. Then suddenly, God knows why! it +ceased looking on, and began to kill. They were half in, half out of +the boat; the <i>sahib-logue</i> and some cried to stop, some to go on. But +the <i>mems</i> made no noise; only you could see their faces white out of +the shadows.</p> + +<p class="normal">"And his, the young <i>sahib's</i>, was whiter than any, glittering, +it seemed, with a white fire. The <i>mem</i> was in the boat, and +Broon-<i>sahib</i> on the bottom step, the baby in his arms. But he, the +boy, was above him facing the crowd--making time.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Then, just as the mem stretched her hands for the child, a +bullet--they were firing from the top steps--hit Broon-<i>sahib</i>, and he +fell half in, half out of the water, pushing the boat out in his fall. +So it began to slide down stream.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Some in it would have stopped it, but the <i>mem</i> gave a look at those +other <i>mems</i>, those other babies, and laid her hand on one that would +have gone back.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'No!'</p> + +<p class="normal">"That was the cry she gave--a great cry; but a greater one rang out +through the shadows and the lights, from the boy who had caught up the +child as it fell upon the steps.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I know not what it was, but it was great, and it echoed out as the +boat slipped fast to safety. And he held the child to his breast and +waved his sword, so that the <i>mem's</i> white face rose from her hands, +where she had hidden it, and she looked back. That was the last thing +I saw out of the shadows as the boat slipped to safety; but it held +me, so that when I looked round, the boy was no longer on the steps.</p> + +<p class="normal">"He had leaped to the plinth of the temple, and his arms were empty of +his burden. Only he stood in front of the doorway with his glittering +white face--his glittering white face, his glittering white sword!</p> + +<p class="normal">"' Come on, you devils!' he shouted in our tongue. 'Come on! Mai Kâli +shall have blood to-night if she wants it.'"</p> + +<p class="normal">"And she had, brothers!</p> + +<p class="normal">"It ran from the plinth and trickled to the river; for none could +touch him from behind, and his sword was in front.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There was a method in its hackings and hewings. At least so it seemed +to me, watching helpless for good or evil, from my place in the +shadow. For ever, as its keenest stroke fell, so another body fell +blocking the plinth, until he had to stand almost in the arch itself.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Then a burly Mahomedan trooper challenged him, and I knew not which +way the fight was going, till, with a shout that was almost a laugh, +the white face and the white sword showed, lunging back at the big +body as they broke past. And it fell sidelong, blocking the doorway +quite.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But none thought of that, of it. None thought of anything save the +glittering face and the glittering sword that had burst through the +circling crowd, and now, facing it again, was backing up the steps, +fighting grimly as it backed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Up and up, step by step, and we--even I, brothers, watching +helpless--drawn after it perforce, to see--to know ...</p> + +<p class="normal">"So the steps were left silent in the starlight. I did not see the +end, brothers. It was beyond my sight. They told me afterwards it was +in the bazaar, with half the town to see; but I had crept away, a +great shivering on me, for I had remembered the flowers and the young +<i>sahib's</i> words about the gods.</p> + +<p class="normal">"And I remembered the child. What had become of the child?</p> + +<p class="normal">"Then suddenly I understood. Then I knew what the method of the sword +had been--how it had hidden, had lured!</p> + +<p class="normal">"It was nigh dawn when I remembered; dawn as it is now. Look! The iron +of night's scabbard grows into the steel of day's sword upon the +water; and hark! that is the cry of the mallards. The world is waking. +So it was when I crept down to Kâli's shrine.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The blood was still dripping into the water, and when I drew the dead +mass of flesh from blocking the doorway, the red of it lay in a pool +up to Her feet. But the child had crawled on Her knees, brothers, and +had cried itself to sleep there.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yet when it wakened at my touch it did not cry, for, see you, it knew +me; and so, when it saw the milk, set in a bowl before Her as +offering, it stretched its hands for it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Thus it was made clear. So I gave it Mai Kâli's milk, knowing it was +true what he had said, 'that they had squared the gods.'"</p> + +<p class="normal">The voice paused, and another asked, "And then?" before it went on +dreamily.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yea! it was true indeed, for ere the day ended they were back with +guns and soldiers. So, since silence is better than speech when nought +is sure, I crept in the night to a Colonel's house and left the child +in the garden for them to find.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Forty years ago, brothers! Forty years is it since the boats slipped +down to safety with the <i>Huzoors</i>, and now ..."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a sudden stir in the waiting crowd.</p> + +<p class="normal">A boat had slipped up the river shadows from the bridge and was making +for the steps.</p> + +<p class="normal">"That's your station, Brown," said an English voice; "the water is a +bit deep about the shrine, remember, and the old women are devilish +hard to keep back. All right!" it continued, as a man stepped out. "Go +on to the next. We are a bit early on the field; but it is as well to +be beforehand, and square things."</p> + +<p class="normal">As the boat paddled on, another English voice in the stern said in a +low tone, "Why did you put Brown there? Just where his father was +killed, don't you remember?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Just why I did! He won't stand any nonsense, and it is a troublesome +job. Besides, he wasn't killed, and there's luck in it. That was a +queer story. Some one saved him, of course, but why? and how? Now, +Smith! there you are. And, as I said to Brown, for Heaven's sake look +after the old dodderers, male and female. When they've nothing left to +live for ..."</p> + +<p class="normal">The rest was lost as the boat went on to a yet farther station.</p> + +<p class="normal">So, as the sun rose, it rose on that great angled sweep, not of steps, +but of humanity; full, pressed down, running over into the spired town +behind--on a million and more of dark faces, and a dozen white ones +dotted here and there at the most dangerous points.</p> + +<p class="normal">And Broon-<i>sahib</i>, bearded, a bit burly with his forty and odd years, +sat on the plinth, and thought, no doubt, of that past at first, then +took out his pipe, and with it some scraps of smoked glass, since the +coming eclipse must not be lost, even though one <i>was</i> on duty.</p> + +<p class="normal">The sun climbed up, brilliantly unconscious, or at least regardless, +of its coming fate. And after a time boats began to slide up and down, +and a big barge came punting up stream sedately. It was full of +English women and children; and under its wide awning a table was laid +with flowers and sparkling silver against the champagne breakfast +which was to follow on a successful performance of duty.</p> + +<p class="normal">For not even here could there be allowed hint or sign of that +expectancy of possible evil. A little girl holding her mother's hand +nodded her yellow curls delightedly, as the barge went past, to Dada +sitting swinging his legs just where the blood had dripped into the +stream forty years ago; but something in the woman's face made a call +echo over the water.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's all right. Show going A 1!"</p> + +<p class="normal">As a show there could be no doubt of that. There was a breathlessness +in it, a mighty surge of emotion from one end of that bank of humanity +to the other, a curious wail in the ceaseless roar of voices, that +struck through eyes and ears to the heart.</p> + +<p class="normal">And now, what was that?</p> + +<p class="normal">Broad daylight still; not a shadow had shifted, and yet a sense as if +a candle had gone out somewhere.</p> + +<p class="normal">Broon-<i>sahib</i> put his pipe in his pocket, looked through a glass +darkly, stood up, raised his helmet, wiped his forehead, and put it on +again.</p> + +<p class="normal">The time had come--there was a nibble of shadow on the ball of +light!--the monster had begun his meal!</p> + +<p class="normal">As he looked round, unarmed, defenceless, on the hundreds of thousands +of dark heads which held this thought, he smiled and nodded with the +words.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Have patience, brethren; there is time!" Doubtless, but not much time +to think of other things beyond the mere keeping of that forward crush +of bathers, that backward crush of those that had bathed, from +inextricable confusion.</p> + +<p class="normal">So much the better, perhaps. Less time, at any rate, for expectation +of the new King who was to fall from the sun and sweep away existing +kingdoms. Less time to notice the white horse led out ostentatiously +by the Brahmins at the biggest temple, sign that such talk was true, +that one æon had passed away, and another--in which Vishnu should +appear in his final incarnation--had begun.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Have patience! Have patience!"</p> + +<p class="normal">That was the burden of the cry from the few white faces dotted among +the dark ones, and it was caught up and echoed by the connecting links +of yellow-legged policemen stationed every ten yards along the lowest +step.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Have patience! Have patience!"</p> + +<p class="normal">A hard saying indeed.</p> + +<p class="normal">Broon-<i>sahib</i> slipped down from the plinth and collared an old +pantaloon just as he fell, hefted him up like a baby, and set him +squatting in safety above. Then an old woman, gasping, gurgling from +the first mouthful of the water into which, regardless of depth, she +had literally been propelled.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Have patience, brethren! Have patience!"</p> + +<p class="normal">A harder saying, now that all things had grown grey; though +still--weird, uncanny, beyond belief--not a shadow had shifted.</p> + +<p class="normal">Hopelessly grey, and hopelessly cold--so cold. So curiously quiet, +too; for the great roar of voices seemed to have severed itself from +things earthly, and was like a mighty wind from heaven.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Have patience, brethren! Have patience! There is time!"</p> + +<p class="normal">A harder saying still, when in the greyness, the coldness, a flock of +scared pigeons overhead sent a weird flight of faint grey shadows down +that long length of angled curve, packed by expectant humanity.</p> + +<p class="normal">Was He coming indeed?--that new ruler? Were these the heralds?</p> + +<p class="normal">There was quite a little row, now, of rescued old dodderers on Mai +Kâli's plinth, whence the blood had dropped forty years ago.</p> + +<p class="normal">What was that? Had some one withdrawn a veil? Had some one said, "Let +there be light"?</p> + +<p class="normal">The greyness, the coldness, lost their character in an instant. There +was promise in them now--promise of light to come! The sun was +reasserting its sway, and--not half of humanity had bathed!</p> + +<p class="normal">"Have patience, brethren! Have patience!" shouted Broon-<i>sahib</i>, and +there was a certain fierce determination in his tone.</p> + +<p class="normal">Hardest saying of all, when the precious moments were going--going so +fast!</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Huzoor!</i>" came a piteous, confused voice behind him from the +plinth, "it is my last chance. I am old--I forget. I have forgotten so +much--only this remains. For pity's sake--for the sake of forty years +ago--let old Bishen, the flower-seller, find salvation!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Even in his hurry, in his breathless recognition that here +was the crucial instant--that a single mistake might bring +disaster--Broon-<i>sahib</i> flung a quick look behind him.</p> + +<p class="normal">He saw a pathetic old face, humble even in its grief.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's all right, <i>Baba</i>; there's plenty of time!" he said swiftly. +"Here! look through this bit of glass--you'll see for yourself."</p> + +<p class="normal">It only took a moment, those quick words; he was back, ready with hand +and voice of command, almost without a break; but they did more for +peace and order than a regiment of soldiers. For old Bishen, after one +look through the smoked glass, rose to his feet and salaamed again and +again, set, as he was, on high, in sight of all.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yea! it is true," he cried, in his thin old voice. "There <i>is</i> time. +Let us wait, brethren; for they know--the gods have told them."</p> + +<p class="normal">Half-an-hour afterwards, with its table laid with flowers and silver, +the sliding barge held Englishmen as well as Englishwomen; and one of +them was drinking deep draughts of iced beer, while a little girl with +yellow hair watched him admiringly, and a woman, still rather pale of +face, stood looking at him with evident relief.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I told you it would be all right, my dear," he said, smiling. "There +never was any rush to speak of but once; and then I gave a bit of +smoked glass to an old chap, and he saw through a glass darkly what +was up, and told the others. So we squared 'em--gods and Brahmins and +all-as I told you we should, in spite of all the talk and the +telegrams."</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_keeper" href="#div1Ref_keeper">THE KEEPER OF THE PASS</a></h2> +<br> + +<p class="normal">The low hills, as they lay baking in the sunshine of noon, showed in +scallops of glare against the light-bleached sky. A fine dust, reddish +but for that same bleaching of light, hid every green thing far and +near, making them match the straggling camel-thorns, the stunted +wormwood, the tufts of chamomile, and many another nameless aromatic +herb which in these low hills come into the world ready dressed in +dust, as it were, against the long rainless months.</p> + +<p class="normal">Yet it was not hot here in the uplands, and so the district officer's +tent was opened at one side and propped up by bamboos more for the +convenience of its occupant holding an open-air audience than from any +quest after coolness. The upward tilt gave the tent a quaintly +lopsided look, as if it were some gigantic bird flapping one wing in +its attempt to rise and fly away from the little hollow in which it +stood.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was a motley crowd, indeed, which awaited the fiat of the Dispenser +of Justice in these fastnesses of the central hills of India; those +climbing, rolling upward sweeps of sandstone where the ripple mark of +the tides that built them remains to tell of the vanished sea which +had once covered this dry and thirsty land, where no water is for nine +long months of the year.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was a curious crowd also. It could not fail of being that, since it +struck the two extremes of that vast Indian scale of so-called +culture, so-called civilisation. For a land case involving several +miles of country was in dispute, and the semi-Europeanised, wholly +clothed lawyers engaged on it stood cheek by jowl with the +semi-clothed wholly aboriginal witnesses in it; representatives for +the most part of the wild tribes belonging to these waste lands and +forests. Rude iron-smelters, almost touching the bronze age in +absolute savagery; or wandering fowlers, barbaric even to the extent +of eating their poor, old, undesirable relations!</p> + +<p class="normal">In one group, however, consisting of an old man and a young one, a +quick observer might have noticed a palpable discrepancy between the +dress (or the lack of it) and the address of the wearers. A +discrepancy which made the magistrate of the district look up with a +smile.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hullo! Nâgdeo!" he said. "On the warpath after a tiger?" The old man +salaamed down to the ground. His skin was very dark, so that his white +moustache and thin white whiskers, brushed out to stand, each hair +singly, in a forward curve, like the whiskers of a cat, seemed to +glisten against it. For the rest, he was small, slight, but extremely +muscular, and he carried himself with no little dignity and +importance.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not so, <i>Huzoor</i>," he replied, and his speech rose higher in that +scale of culture and civilisation than his dress, which was no more +than a waistcloth, a string of tiger claws, and a tasselled spear--"I +come to put another foot on it. This is my grandson, <i>Huzoor</i>."</p> + +<p class="normal">The dignity, the importance grew fifty-fold as he turned to the lad by +his side. A good head taller, fairer of skin, infinitely better +looking, there was yet something about the figure which made the eye +turn back to the smaller, older one, as it stood before authority with +a certain authority of its own.</p> + +<p class="normal">He was, as all knew, explained Nâgdeo, the keeper of one of the +wildest passes in that wild country, as his father and his father's +father had been. Who could deny it? Was not their very caste name, to +distinguish them from others, <i>Ghâtwâl</i>, or pass-keeping ones?</p> + +<p class="normal">He had had to keep his a long time, because the Old God had decreed +that his son should be defeated by a tigress and her cubs; which might +happen to the best of pass-keeping ones, since those things feminine +were untrustworthy. Consequently he (Nâgdeo) had had to go on beyond +the years of greatest activity until his grandson reached them.</p> + +<p class="normal">But here the boy was now. Of age, twenty; than most, taller; as any, +learned in jungle law; with the spear, nimble; to keep the pass, +ready; to be enrolled, present, the Old God before--</p> + +<p class="normal">With his subject the old man's words had returned to the idiom of a +wilder tongue, and he drew out of his waistcloth a little iron image +of a tiger, not three inches long, to which he salaamed reverently.</p> + +<p class="normal">For this was the Old God.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What is your grandson's name?" asked the district officer.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was Baghéla (tiger cub), said Nâgdeo.</p> + +<p class="normal">It had seemed a suitable name for one born six months after his father +had been found lying dead on the top of a dead tigress, his dead lips +close to the teats that would suckle her dead whelps no more.</p> + +<p class="normal">That had been a misfortune, deplorable yet without shame, and due, +possibly, to the dead youth's over-soon marriage to a thing feminine; +such things being notoriously untrustworthy! Therefore he had +refrained from entangling <i>this</i> one with such things feminine, the +more so because there were already sufficient of them in the house, +what with Baghéla's mother and grandmother. Briefly, the worship of +two female things was sufficient for any lad without adding to the +adulation by a third!</p> + +<p class="normal">So, in the evening, when the magistrate's legal work was over, the old +man and the young one came up to the tilted tent again, and, after a +curious little oath of fealty to the Old God--in the shape of the +three-inch tiger--and a vow of war till death against live things that +mimicked his shape had been taken from his grandfather's dictation by +Baghéla, the latter's name was duly enrolled as hereditary guardian of +the Jâdusa Pass, and the two struck a bee-line towards home over the +low jungle as if it belonged to them.</p> + +<p class="normal">As indeed it did; since few travellers, save the keepers of the +passes, ventured to brave the tigers dreaming in their lairs, or +pacing the trackless wastes hungrily, after dark.</p> + +<p class="normal">But old Nâgdeo was jubilant over the mere chance of coming across one; +not that it was likely, since what tiger ever was whelped which would +dare to face him and his grandson? "Men"--here he gave a sidelong +glance of pure adoration at Baghéla's height--"who had no backs; who, +if they failed, as even pass-keepers must sometimes, were found face +up to the sky, face up to the claws, face up to the teeth!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Of course, sometimes, the accursed brutes who assumed the shape of the +Blessed Budhal Pen--the Old God of Gods--would, out of sheer spite, +roll a dead man over and claw at his back; but that also was without +shame, since dead men had no choice.</p> + +<p class="normal">So the old man babbled on garrulously, and the young one listened, +till they reached the little village at the foot of the pass. The moon +had risen by this time, and showed the upright slabs of sandstone +clustering under the wide-spreading tamarind trees on its outskirts. +Slabs marking the graves of dead and gone inhabitants.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am ready now for the young girls to break their pitchers and cover +my emptiness with the shards," said the old man, pausing for a second +beside a cluster of these stones. Then he raised his hand and spoke to +the unseen: "Fear not, Slumberers! He who comes to join you hath no +scratch upon his back."</p> + +<p class="normal">That was his <i>Nunc Dimittis</i>. After which he made his way to a low +shingled stone hut, covered with gourds, which stood on some rising +ground outside the hamlet towards the pass; drank to excess--from pure +joy--of a nauseous spirit made by the untrustworthy feminine out of +wild berries, and then slept as sound as if he were indeed with the +Slumberers.</p> + +<p class="normal">For this question of the due keeping of the pass had been on the old +man's nerves for months. The rains would be due ere long, bringing, no +doubt, those twinges of lumbago to a grandfather's back which had of +late made it difficult, indeed, to keep the pass open for travellers; +since to do that a man must give the beasts no rest. He must harry +their lairs when they were absent, scare them from the road with +strange noises and ringing of bells, and, if they were obdurate, face +claws and teeth.</p> + +<p class="normal">But now there was some one to do all this. Some one of the true race, +yet by the fiat of the Old God bigger than most. Ay! and with more +personal enmity than most towards the evil ones who stole the Old +God's likeness. For must not those six unborn mouths of wrong, of +loss, of grief and anger, count for something?</p> + +<p class="normal">Yes! Baghéla would be a Keeper of the Pass, indeed! That was the old +man's thought as he fell asleep, his dream as he lay sound as the +Slumberers themselves. And Baghéla slept, too, the badge of his new +office, a necklace of tiger claws, round his neck, a tasselled spear, +hung with jingling bells, beside him. But the untrustworthy feminine, +the mother, the grandmother, still sate by the embers of the fire +whispering fearfully; for <i>they</i> knew that those six unborn mouths, +translated in <i>their</i> way, might mean something very different.</p> + +<p class="normal">Baghéla himself, however, had no suspicion of the possibility. He set +about his new duties with an immense amount of swagger. The least hint +of a marauding intruder about the winding path which led to the +fertile valleys towards the south, would send him through the village +with boastful jinglings of his bells. And, as luck would have it, that +jingling seemed all powerful for a time towards the keeping of the +pass.</p> + +<p class="normal">Nâgdeo, who, now that the necessity for presenting a youthful +appearance was over, permitted himself a seat amongst the village +elders, a certain stiffness of carriage generally, used to boast of +this peace dogmatically. Such a thing as no <i>news</i>, even, of +intruders, so far on in the season, was unheard of. He himself, in his +palmiest days, had never been so fear-compelling. It was those six +unborn mouths of hereditary hatred which did it, no doubt.</p> + +<p class="normal">And Baghéla thought so too, as long as the rain was slight, as long as +the flocks and herds kept to the uplands, and only the shepherds and +herdsmen had tales to tell of loss. Then, one day, the clouds broke in +slanting shafts of almost solid rain, and the water ran over the +rippled sandhills as if it had been a tide once more. Then the sun +shone for another day, and at dusk everything but a yard or two of +shadow round Baghéla as he patrolled the path was a blank nothingness, +blotting out even the darkness with wet, impenetrable vapour, dulling +even the sound of the bells, deadening all scent.</p> + +<p class="normal">So, neither he nor the tiger had an instant's warning.</p> + +<p class="normal">They were face to face in a moment.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then Baghéla knew what those unborn mouths had wrought in him. Terror, +absolute, uncontrollable, seized on all his young strength; he knew +nothing save the desire to escape. The next instant he felt a hot +vapour on his back, heard the husky angry cough that sent it there, +and all that young strength of his spent itself in a cry like that of +the untrustworthy thing feminine, when they had told it of a young +husband's death.</p> + +<p class="normal">Into the mist he fled, feeling the cold vapour in his face, the hot +behind; until, suddenly desperate, every atom of him leaped forward +from what lay behind, and he fell.</p> + +<p class="normal">None too soon; for even as he shot downward a shadow shot over him in +the mist, and something ripped his bare back lightly, as, with greater +impetus than his, that shadow plunged into the void.</p> + +<p class="normal">A second afterwards a long-drawn howl of rage and spite rose upward +through the mist to meet Baghéla's whimpers as he lay, caught above +the sheer precipice, by a bush.</p> + +<p class="normal">After a while he rose and crept carefully up to the verge; then sate +and shivered at himself; at this inheritance of fear. And more than +once his hand sought that faint scratch upon his back. It was not +much; not more than a kitten might have made in play, but he felt it +like a brand.</p> + +<p class="normal">By degrees, however, he began to think. The tiger must be lying dead, +or at least helpless, below the rocks. He must get down to it, leave +the marks of his spear in it; the mark of its claws ...</p> + +<p class="normal">A surge of shame swept through him. No! he must go back unscathed; no +one must have the chance, in dressing wounds, of seeing that faint +mark behind.</p> + +<p class="normal">So the next morning, old Nâgdeo could scarcely contain himself for +pride, as he sate among the village elders. The boy had killed his +first tiger without a scratch. Had brought home its skin, the biggest +seen for years. True, the lad himself had found the fight too hard, +and was even now shivering and shaking with ague; but that only proved +how hard the fight had been. And the untrustworthy feminine were +dosing him, so he would be afoot again in a day or two. Then the +village would see that, ere a month was over, a naked child might go +through the pass alone in safety. But it was not so!</p> + +<p class="normal">Baghéla, it is true, was well enough by day, but as the dusk came on, +his strong young limbs always fell a shivering and a shaking. "There +is more room for quaking, see you, in him than in me," old Nâgdeo +would explain elaborately to his cronies, as he held out an arm, which +with the inaction, the sudden cessation of imperious efforts, began to +show its age clearly; "but one must pay for size and strength, and +courage; and there is no harm done as yet. The mimicking devils had +their lesson when he killed their champion without a scratch."</p> + +<p class="normal">But the harm came in time. A party of salt-carriers, taking advantage +of a break in the rains, arrived at the village carrying an extra +load; the body of a man killed by a tiger, half eaten by jackals.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ague or no ague, sonling," said old Nâgdeo almost coaxingly to the +lad half-an-hour after the appearance of this grim visitor, "thy bells +must be heard in the pass to-night. They will be all-sufficient, +considering the lesson thou hast taught the beasts. And thou art +strong enough for the ringing of bells. Thou canst return afterwards +to shiver and shake, sonling, since thou art not of those to do that +in the pass. No! no!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The old man's chuckle at his little joke was tenderly triumphant; but, +when he had gone, and the untrustworthy feminine alone remained, +Baghéla turned with a sob to his mother, who crouched beside him, and +hid his face in her clothes, as if he had been a hurt child.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mother!" he cried, "I got it from thee!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes! heart of my heart," she answered passionately, "and from thy +murdered father too. Have I not told thee so, often? As for this old +man! See you! Since <i>this</i> has come upon us, and the shivering is no +longer refuge--go! There is no need to ring the bells--no need to go +farther than the little caves. And the old man fails fast. He will +not live long. Then, when he is dead, the old tale will be told, +and we can tell a new one, like other folk. Why, even now, see you, +there is no need for travellers to cross the pass. Let them take the +'rail' which the <i>Huzoors</i> have made! All this old-world talk is +foolishness--yesterday's bread has been eaten, its water drunk; 'tis +time for a new dinner!"</p> + +<p class="normal">It was more than a month after this that some one, sitting on the +village daïs underneath the tamarind trees in sight of the Slumberers, +in trying to use a betel-cutter, said carelessly, "<i>It hath grown +rusty, like Baghéla's bells!</i>"</p> + +<p class="normal">Nâgdeo turned on the speaker like lightning. That month had left him +curiously aged, with a wistful, anxious expectancy on his old face. +Though when, more than once, folk had commented on his changed looks, +and asked what ailed him, he had only replied, almost apologetically, +"Death lingers; 'tis time I was with the Slumberers, since Baghéla +keeps the pass as his fathers did."</p> + +<p class="normal">But now his old voice rose haughtily, "Like thy wits rather! Canst not +see that the youth hath been overbrave? The mimicking devils will not +face the bells. And who can kill a foe that keeps his distance? And if +the bells ring not, is it not in hopes to lure the cowards close--to +take them unawares?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The arguments came swiftly, as if they had been rehearsed before; +rehearsed without audience; and yet when old Nâgdeo moved off as if in +displeasure, his hands crept out towards the stones which marked the +Slumberers, his eyes sought them almost pitifully.</p> + +<p class="normal">And that night, after Baghéla had gone on his rounds, after the +untrustworthy feminine had slothfully sought its bed, the old Keeper +of the Pass crept out in the rear of the young one, spear in hand; yet +without the jingles, since what need was there for two sets?</p> + +<p class="normal">Two! But where was the one?</p> + +<p class="normal">The old man's face grew more feline in its watchful anxiety, as he +prowled among the bushes in the half moonlit darkness, listening for +the challenge. And none came, though more than once in the denser +shadow of thick jungle, he saw two spots of green light telling that +some one was <i>waiting</i> to be challenged. But where was the challenger?</p> + +<p class="normal">The night was far spent ere he was found, fast asleep on a bed of dry +leaves in the little cave.</p> + +<p class="normal">The sight seemed to take the finder back, not to his more immediate +ancestors, the purely savage hunters of those low hills, but to +something older still, to the barbarians who had swept down on them to +found principalities and powers; for all the calm dignity of the +Indo-Scythic sculptures was in Nâgdeo's pose as he pricked the sleeper +with his spear.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Rise up, Keeper of the Pass; they wait for thee without."</p> + +<p class="normal">Baghéla was on his feet in a second. He knew the time had come, and +something of the old racial courage in him held that new fear in +check.</p> + +<p class="normal">Until, not a hundred yards without the cave, in the faint grey light +of the now coming dawn, a paler shadow showed in the darker shadows, +long, low, sinuous; and something moved across their path with no +sound of footfall; only a crackle of dry twigs, a sudden, soft, short +wheeze, and then silence.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ring the bells, Keeper of the Pass," came the old man's voice. "There +is no fear. Has not the tale of thy prowess spread among the tiger +people?"</p> + +<p class="normal">His prowess! The sting of that slight scratch was as fire on the lad's +back; he paused. But a spear from behind reached to his, struck it +sideways, and the next instant the challenge echoed through the pass.</p> + +<p class="normal">And was accepted.</p> + +<p class="normal">The shadow grew short, showed paler; till two green lights flashed +out, and with a roar that rolled among the rocks, the tiger faced +them, crouched and sprang.</p> + +<p class="normal">Old Nâgdeo, his vanished youth returning for a space, sprang too, +watching that other spring; so, spear in hand, found himself close to +the striped skin of the base usurper of the Old God's shape, into +which, with all the force he possessed, he drove his weapon's point. +But Baghéla, with no thought but flight, felt the full force of those +mighty claws on his back, and fell. Perhaps his neck was broken; +anyhow, he lay still, heedless of the piteous cry that followed:--</p> + +<p class="normal">"Face him, Keeper of the Pass! Face the teeth, face the claws, ere +thou seekest the Slumberers!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Yet the entreaty was not utterly disregarded; since--Baghéla +dead--that Keepership passed again to one whose face faced the old +enemy bravely.</p> + +<p class="normal">That face, however, had no triumph of victory in it, when Nâgdeo +stooped over his grandson's body, and turned its scored back to be +hidden by Mother Earth. There was no mark anywhere else--not a +scratch. That, at any rate, must not be. That must be remedied before +the villagers saw it; before even the sun saw it. For was not Budhal +Pen, the Old God, the Sun-god also?</p> + +<p class="normal">So he drew the lad's body deliberately within reach of the mighty +claws, and used them, slack as they were in newly-come death, for his +purpose.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then he sat down beside the two dead bodies, and looked at his own for +scratch or hurt. There was not one; not even a bruise, not a spot of +blood. So none need know. The girls might weep as they broke their +pitchers over Baghéla bewailing his dead courage.</p> + +<p class="normal">The courage which had died before he did, though none should know of +it. Yet it had died. And who was to blame?</p> + +<p class="normal">Nâgdeo sat gazing stupidly at his grandson's long length, at his +fairer beauty; then suddenly he stood up.</p> + +<p class="normal">That was it, of course!</p> + +<p class="normal">And if that were so, then it were best to settle it before dawn, when +folk might come prying. He bent curiously over the dead lad, then laid +his hand on the dead heart.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Go! Keeper of the Pass, to the Slumberers without fear. I, Nâgdeo, +will punish the intruder."</p> + +<p class="normal">Half-an-hour after, he stood silently in his hut beside his still +sleeping wife. The old woman, blind, deaf, near her end as it was, +scarcely stirred as he drove his spear through her heart.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I doubt thee not, Naolé," he said inwardly, "unless a devil wronged +thee; but thy son's son must be avenged. He must take no stranger's +blood to the Slumberers."</p> + +<p class="normal">But Herdâsi, the lad's mother, was awake, and screamed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hold thy peace, fool!" said the old man, fiercely, "if thou wouldst +not proclaim thyself harlot. Thy son is dead--face downwards. It came +not from me, nor from my son; so that of us which goes to join the +Slumberers must be avenged on the vile spirit that took form within +thee. Come out from under the bed, woman! if thou wouldst prove he got +it not with thy knowledge. Oh! untrustworthy feminine!"</p> + +<p class="normal">And after a pause the untrustworthy feminine did come out with a +curious dignity.</p> + +<p class="normal">"He got it not from me but from my love. Yet what matter if he be +dead!" said Herdâsi, and so died with her face to the foe to save her +son's name. Since, if it was a devil's doing, none could blame the +lad.</p> + +<p class="normal">They found the old man sitting beside the two dead women when they +came to tell him that the Keeper of the Pass had given his life for +its safety.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yea, I know," replied Nâgdeo, quietly. "I went and found him before +dawn when he returned not. So I came home and slew these useless ones. +Since he was dead, and I am nigh death, and there was none to keep the +untrustworthy feminine from wandering."</p> + +<p class="normal">He adhered to this story steadfastly in the district magistrate's +court, and when he was condemned to death made but one request--that +he might be allowed to face it with the insignia of his office about +him. So on the eve of his execution they gave the old man back his +necklace of tiger claws, and told him he would be allowed to jingle +his bells on his way to the scaffold. But when they came to rouse him +in the morning he was lying dead, face upward; his arms, his chest, +his throat all rent and ripped by those same tiger claws.</p> + +<p class="normal">But there was not even a scratch upon the back of the last Keeper of +the Pass.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_rose" href="#div1Ref_rose">THE PERFUME OF THE ROSE</a></h2> +<br> + +<p class="normal">"I think we ought to be going back to the others," said the girl.</p> + +<p class="normal">She was a pretty, fair English girl, fresh as a rose in her dainty +pink muslin dress, flounced as they wore them in the mutiny year--in +three full flounces to the waist, like the corolla of a flower. And +the lace sunshade she held tilted over her shoulder as a protection +against the slanting rays of the afternoon sun added to her +rose-likeness by its calyx of pale green lining.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ought we?" said the young Englishman who walked beside her, his hand +clasping hers. They were a good-looking pair, pleasant to behold. +"What a bore; it is so jolly here."</p> + +<p class="normal">The epithet was not happy, save as an expression of the speaker's +frame of mind. For the garden into which these engaged lovers had +wandered away from the gay party of English men and women who had +taken possession of the marble summer-house in its centre for a +picnic, or, as the natives call it, "a fool's dinner," was something +more than jolly.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was beautiful, this garden of a dead dynasty of kings past and gone +like last year's roses.</p> + +<p class="normal">But there were roses and to spare still within its high four-square +walls that were hidden from each other by the burnished orange-groves, +by the tall forest trees fringing its cross of wide marble aqueducts +bordered by wide paths.</p> + +<p class="normal">Such blossoming trees! The <i>kachnar</i> flinging its bare branches, set +thick with its geranium flowers, against the creamy feathers waving +among the dense dark foliage of the <i>mangoes</i>, the <i>bakayun</i> drooping +its long lilac tassels beside the great gold ones of the <i>umultâs</i>, +and here and there its whole vitality lavished on a monstrous leaf or +two, a huge flower or two, white, curved, solid, as if cut in cold +marble, yet with a warm fragrance at its heart, a hill magnolia +challenged the scent of the roses below.</p> + +<p class="normal">Ineffectually, at least here in this square of the garden; for that +cross of wide, empty aqueducts divided it into squares.</p> + +<p class="normal">And this one was a square of roses--roses everywhere, even in the +lower level of what in the old kingly days had been a marble-edged +water-way, which now, half filled with soil, held more roses.</p> + +<p class="normal">But they were all of one kind--the pink Persian rose, whose outer +petals pale in the sunlight, whose rose of roses heart is full of an +almost piercing perfume.</p> + +<p class="normal">What wonder, when it is the otto of roses rose! It grew here for that +set purpose in orderly lines, its grey green, velvety leaves almost +hidden by its profusion of flowers.</p> + +<p class="normal">And the scent of them filled the whole square of garden, where the +air, still warm from the past noon, lay prisoned in that fringe of +blossoming trees.</p> + +<p class="normal">It seemed to fill the brain, also, with the quintessence of gladness, +beauty, life, and love.</p> + +<p class="normal">So His arm sought Her waist and their eyes met.</p> + +<p class="normal">But only for a second; the next, Her blush matching Her flounces, She +had drawn back, and He with an angry frown was glaring in the +direction of the voice which had interrupted them.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was a high, clear voice full of little trills and bubblings like a +bird's, and it sang on incessantly, as if to give those two time to +recover from their confusion. And as it sang, the Persian vowels +seemed as piercingly sweet as the perfume into which they echoed.</p> + +<div class="poem1"> +<p class="i6">"The rose-root takes earth's kisses for its meat,<br> +The rose-leaf makes its blush from the sun's heat,<br> +The rose-scent wakes-who knows from what thing +sweet?</p> +<p class="t14">Who knows</p> +<p class="t0">The secret of the perfume of the rose?"</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">As the song ended, a head showed above the tufted bushes. It was +rather a fine head; bare of covering, its long grizzled hair parted in +the middle lying in a smooth outward curve on the high narrow +forehead, then sweeping in an equal inside curve between the ear and +throat. So much, no more, was to be seen above the roses, save, for a +moment, a long-fingered, delicate brown hand hiding the face in its +<i>salaam</i>.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who the <i>shaitan</i> are you?" asked the young man fiercely in +Hindustani.</p> + +<p class="normal">The head and hand met in a second <i>salaam</i>, then the face showed; +rather a fine face, preternaturally grave, but with a cunning +comprehension in its gravity.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am Hushmut the essence-maker, <i>Huzoor</i>," was the reply. "I belong +to the garden, and, being hidden from the noble people in my +occupation of plucking roses for my still, I sang to let them know."</p> + +<p class="normal">The young Englishman gave a half-embarrassed laugh.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What does he say?" asked the girl. She had only been two months in +India, and these had been spent in falling in love.</p> + +<p class="normal">"He thought we might like to know he was there, that's all--a joke, +isn't it?" answered her lover. She smiled, and so holding each other's +hands boldly they stood facing that head above the roses.</p> + +<p class="normal">It nodded cheerfully.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The <i>Huzoors</i> are doubtless about-to-marry persons," came the voice. +"It is not always so, even with the <i>Huzoors</i>. But this being +different, if they require essences for the bridal let them come to +Hushmut. Rose, jasmine, orange, sandal, lemon grass. I make them all +in their season. Yea, even 'wylet'<a name="div4Ref_04" href="#div4_04"><sup>[4]</sup></a> which the <i>memi</i> love. It is not +really <i>banafsha</i>, <i>Huzoor</i>; they grow not in the plains. I make it +from the <i>babul</i> blossom, and none could tell the difference. Mayhap +there <i>is</i> none, since He who makes the perfume of the flowers in His +still, may send the same to many blossoms, as I send my essences to +many lovers; even the noble people!"</p> + +<p class="normal">There was distinct raillery in the last words, and the young +Englishman's smile vanished.</p> + +<p class="normal">"We people hold not with essences," he said curtly; adding to the +girl, "Come, dear, I think we really ought to go back, your father +will be wanting to go home--he has a lot of work, I know--"</p> + +<p class="normal">A shuffle in the bushes made the lovers pause, a curious shuffle such +as a wounded bird makes in its efforts to escape.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If the most noble will tarry, this slave will at least make the +luck-offering to the bride," came the voice again, and to point its +meaning the delicate brown hand held up a circular shallow basket +heaped with rose-petals. Heaped so lightly, that the hand held it +level, and it seemed to glide on the top of the bushes, heralding the +grizzled head which slid after it with a faintly undulating movement.</p> + +<p class="normal">The cause of this became clear when the limit of the roses was +reached.</p> + +<p class="normal">Hushmut the essence-maker must have been a cripple from birth. The +loose blue cloth, such as gardeners wear knotted round their loins +like a petticoat, hid, however, all deformity, even when he clambered +up the marble edge of the old water-way, and shuffled with sidelong +jerks along the path to the pink muslin flounces.</p> + +<p class="normal">The wearer's eyes grew soft suddenly. The mystery of such births came +home to the woman who was so soon to be a wife, perhaps a mother.</p> + +<p class="normal">She gave him a mother's look anyhow; the look of almost passionate +pity a woman gives to a child's deformity.</p> + +<p class="normal">Perhaps he saw it. Anyhow he paused; then, with his bold black eyes +twinkling, held out the basket.</p> + +<p class="normal">"A handful, <i>Huzoor</i>, for luck!" he cried.</p> + +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="i6">"A rose ungathered is but a rose,<br> +Pluck it, lover, don't mind a thorn;<br> +Tuck it away in your bosom-clothes,<br> +And drink its beauty from night to morn."</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">The voice trilled and bubbled quite decorously, but the young +Englishman intercepted a deliberate wink, and felt inclined to kick +Hushmut to lower levels; till he remembered that the girl could not +understand.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Take a handful," he said, "and let's get rid of him." The girl +obeyed, but, by mere chance, the little white hand with his ring on it +did tuck its handful of pink rose-leaves away in the loose pink +ruffles on her breast. Whereat Hushmut's approval became so +unmistakable that the young Englishman felt that the only thing was to +escape from it.</p> + +<p class="normal">Yet as he hurried the girl back to the summerhouse he turned to listen +to the essence-maker's voice as he went on with his song, and his +rose-picking.</p> + +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="i6">"Dig, gardener! deep; till the Earth-lips cling tight.<br> +Prune, gardener! keep those blushes to the light.<br> +Then, gardener, sleep! he brings the scent by night.</p> +<p class="t14">Who knows</p> +<p class="t0">The secret of the perfume of the rose?"</p> +</div> + +<p class="continue">There was nothing to be seen now but the stunted grey green bushes +half hidden in blossom; even the head had disappeared. They were a +queer people, thought the young man, very difficult to understand. +Then the refrain returned to him--</p> + +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="t14">"Who knows</p> +<p class="t0">The secret of the perfume of the rose?"</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">"Hushmut?" answered an older man who lounged smoking in one of the +marble-fretted balconies of the dead King's pleasure-house. "Oh, yes! +he is quite a character. A scoundrel, I believe; at least he knows all +the worst lots in the city. They come to the garden at night, you see, +and the bazaar women get all their essences from him. So I expect he +knows at any rate of all the devilry that's going on. I wish I did." +The speaker's face looked a trifle harassed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is it true, sir, what they say?" asked another voice, "that +Hushmut is really the King's son. That his mother was a Brahmin girl +they kidnapped, who cried herself to death in one of these rooms. +Then, when the child was a cripple, the King--by Jove, he was a +brute!--disowned it."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is that about Hushmut?" asked the girl, who had joined the group in +time to hear the last words.</p> + +<p class="normal">The men looked at each other, and the older one said: "Yes, my dear; +they say he was deserted by his parents because he was a cripple. +Rather rough on him. Now I think I'll go and get your mother to come +home. It's getting late. You'll follow, I suppose?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, father, with him," she said, with a rose-blush.</p> + +<p class="normal">So, by degrees, in couples, as a rule, but sometimes with a pale-faced +child tucked into the carriage between father and mother, the +pleasure-seekers left the garden of dead Kings to the scent of the +roses. Left it cheerfully, calling back to their friends times and +places where they were to meet again, as English men and women did on +those fatal evenings in May, '57.</p> + +<p class="normal">Only the girl in the pink frock and her lover lingered; while the +dogcart in which he was to drive her home waited under the blossoming +trees.</p> + +<p class="normal">And as they stood talking, as lovers will, Hushmut the essence-maker, +thinking the coast was clear, came shuffling down the scented shadow +of the path--for the sun had left the garden--pushing his basket of +rose-leaves before him, dragging his crippledom behind him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you think he would show us his still?" said the girl, suddenly. +"I've never seen one. Ask him, will you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Hushmut's big, bold black eyes twinkled. Certainly the Miss-<i>sahiba</i> +might see. There was no secret in his work. He took the scent as he +found it, as wise men took love. Again there was that faint suspicion +of raillery only to be pardoned by the girl's ignorance, and also by a +conviction that Hushmut counted on that ignorance, and meant the +remark only for the young Englishman. And so, oddly, the latter became +conscious of a distinct antagonism between himself and the crippled +essence-maker. It was absurd, ludicrous; but it existed, nevertheless.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was not much to see in those vaults under the plinth of the +pleasure-palace in which Hushmut had set up his distillery. They were +very low, very dark, the only light coming through the open door, and +from the row of rose-shaped air-holes pierced at intervals in the +plinth. Viewed from outside, these formed part of its raised and +pierced marble decoration. From within they looked quaint and +flower-like, set as they were in the dim shadowy vault, hidden here +and there by the dumpy columns, showing through the arches distantly, +softly, brightly pink; for Hushmut had pasted pink paper over them, to +keep out the bees and wasps, he explained, which otherwise, led by the +scent of the flowers, came in troublesome numbers.</p> + +<p class="normal">The rude still, like a huge cooking-pot, stood in one corner, and all +about it lay trays on trays of fading rose-leaves.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Pah!</i> How sickly sweet! Let's get outside," said the young man after +a brief glance round. But the girl stood looking curiously at a +brownish-yellow mass piled beside the still.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What is that?" she asked. Hushmut's black eyes turned to her +comprehendingly. He shuffled to the pile and held out a sample for her +to see. She bent to look at it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Rose-leaves!" she said. "Oh! I see--after scent has been taken out of +them. Poor things! What a shame!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Hushmut said something rapidly in Hindustani, and the girl turned to +her companion for explanation.</p> + +<p class="normal">"He says," translated the latter, with a curiously grudging note in +his voice, "that they have their use. He dries them in the sun and +burns them in the furnace of his still."</p> + +<p class="normal">She shook her head and smiled. "That's poor compensation!" Then she +bent closer and sniffed regretfully at what Hushmut held.</p> + +<p class="normal">"All gone!" she said, so like a child that her lover laughed at her +tenderly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What else did you expect, you goose!</p> +<br> + +<p class="hang1" style="font-size:90%">'Only the actions of the just, smell sweet and blossom in the dust!'</p> +<br> + +<p class="continue">So come; we really must be off; it's getting late."</p> + +<p class="normal">He felt in his pocket, and held out a <i>baksheesh</i> to Hushmut; but the +latter shook his head, and once more said something rapidly in +Hindustani. It had a note of petition in it, but the request was +apparently not to the hearer's taste. That was to be seen from his +face.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What does he want?" asked the girl, curiously.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Nothing he is going to get," replied her lover, moving off; "the +cheek of the man!"</p> + +<p class="normal">But the pink muslin stood its ground. "What is it?" she persisted; "I +want to know. He doesn't look to me as if he meant to be rude, +and--and"--her face softened--"if it is anything we can do, I'd--I'd +like to do it. Tell me, please."</p> + +<p class="normal">The young fellow shrugged his shoulders impatiently.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh! only fooling! He wants you to give him back some of the +rose-leaves he gave you, that he may put them in his new brew, to--to +make it sweeter; says the luck-gift of a bride always does--"</p> + +<p class="normal">The girl blushed and smiled all over.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, why not? It is a pretty idea, anyhow." She drew out the handful +of rose-leaves as she spoke, then paused with a faint wonder, for the +warmth of their shelter had made their perfume almost bewildering.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How--how sweet they are!" she murmured. Then, still smiling, but with +the blush faded almost to paleness, she dropped the rose-leaves into +the delicate, long-fingered hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I hope it will be the sweetest essence you ever made," she said with +a laugh, and Hushmut seemed to understand, for he smiled back and +<i>salaamed</i> as he, in his turn, tucked the charm into his bosom for use +when the still should be ready for closing, and as he did so, he said +in his high, suave voice--</p> + +<p class="normal">"May He who knows the secret of the rose protect the bride." He said +it without the least suspicion of reality; simply as a dignified piece +of courtesy.</p> + +<p class="normal">A minute afterwards the wheels of that last dogcart, as it drove out +of the garden, disturbed the birds which had already begun to choose +their resting-places for the night; since they too looked for the +usual rest and peace in that fatal Maytime.</p> + +<p class="normal">And for a space the peace, the rest settled on the garden. Only +Hushmut's voice, as he busied himself in packing the pink petals into +his still, told of any life in it beyond the birds, the flowers, the +bees.</p> + +<p class="normal">One of these, belated, drifted into the vault through the open door, +and hummed a background to the high, trilling voice.</p> + +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="i6">"Pale, pale are the rose-lips, sweet!</p> +<p class="t1">Red is the heart of the rose,</p> +<p class="t0">But red are the lips mine meet,</p> +<p class="t1">And your heart white as the snows."</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">Then a faint, almost noiseless patter of bare running feet paused at +the door, and some one looked in to say breathlessly--</p> + +<p class="normal">"It hath begun, they say. But who knows? I am off to the city to see."</p> + +<p class="normal">Hushmut looked up startled from his rose-leaves; startled, nothing +more.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Begun!--so soon--wherefore?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"God knows!" came the breathless voice. "Mayhap it is a lie. Some +thought it would not come at all. I will return and tell thee the +news."</p> + +<p class="normal">The faint, almost noiseless patter of bare feet died away, and there +was peace and rest in the garden for another space. Only Hushmut +shuffled to the door, looked out curiously, then shuffled back to his +work, for that must be finished before dark, else the roses would +spoil, squandering their sweetness. There was another pile of +brownish, yellow residuum ready dried for the furnace, and as he +filled a basket with it, his hands among the scentless stuff, a sudden +remembrance of his own impotence, his own deprivation, came to him. +Perhaps he had seen a hint of the simile in the English girl's face.</p> + +<p class="normal">He smiled half cynically and muttered--</p> +<br> + +<p class="hang1" style="font-size:90%">"Only the dust of the rose remains for the perfume-seller."</p> +<br> + +<p class="normal">He paused almost before the bit of treasured wisdom was ended. There +was a sound of wheels; of a galloping horse's feet.</p> + +<p class="normal">Some one was coming back to the garden. The next instant, through the +open door, he saw two figures running; an Englishman, an English girl +in a pink dress. The man's arm was round her as he ran; he looked back +fearfully, then seemed to whisper something in her ear, and she gave +answer back.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What was it?" they said to each other. Hushmut knew by instinct.</p> + +<p class="normal">He was thinking of the roof of the palace pleasure-house, of the +winding stair that led to it, down which it would at least be possible +to fling a foe, before the end came; and She was thinking of the +marble plinth below, where, when that end came, a woman might find +safety from men's hands in death.</p> + +<p class="normal">So they came on through the growing shadows.</p> + +<p class="normal">Hushmut shuffled to the door and watched the figures calmly, +indifferently, as they neared him; for the way to the winding stair +lay up the steps which rose just beyond the low door of his distillery +in the plinth.</p> + +<p class="normal">Perhaps the dusk hid him from those two; perhaps even in broad +daylight they would not, in their fierce desire to reach not safety +but resistance, have seen him.</p> + +<p class="normal">They did not, anyhow; but as they passed the door the girl's muslin +flounce caught hard on its lintel hasp, and as in frantic haste she +stooped to rip it free, the scent of those rose-leaves Hushmut had +given her, still lingering in the ruffles at her breast, seemed to +pass straight back into those same rose-leaves in his own.</p> + +<p class="normal">That was all, nothing more. But it brought back his last words to her: +"May He who knows the secret of the rose protect the bride."</p> + +<p class="normal">Strange!</p> + +<p class="normal">The same instant his long-fingered brown hand was on her white one as +she tugged at her dress.</p> + +<p class="normal">"This way, <i>Huzoor!</i>" he cried in a loud voice, for the man to hear. +"There is a secret passage here; it leads to safety."</p> + +<p class="normal">Safety! That word, better than resistance, not to the man himself, but +as sole guardian to the girl, arrested him in a second, tempted him.</p> + +<p class="normal">He looked, hesitated, then dragged his charge on--dragged her from +anything with a dark skin to it.</p> + +<p class="normal">But her white one touching this dark one, found something in it to +give confidence; or perhaps that fragrance of the flower from His +still which "He sends to many blossoms," had passed from Hushmut's +breast to hers, as hers had to Hushmut's. He knows, who knows the +secret of the perfume of the rose.</p> + +<p class="normal">Anyhow she hung back, and she called pitifully, clamorously--</p> + +<p class="normal">"No! No! Let us trust him--let us take the chance."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was no time for remonstrance.</p> + +<p class="normal">The next second they were in the cool, scented darkness of the vault, +with those pink air-holes showing like shadowy roses among the low +arches, the squat pillars.</p> + +<p class="normal">"At the farther end," came Hushmut's voice, amid his shuffling, till +the latter ceased in the rasping of a chain unhasped. "Here, <i>Huzoor</i>, +it leads to the Summer Palace beyond the garden wall. So by the mango +groves to the Residency. May He who knows the secret of the perfume of +the rose protect the bride."</p> + +<p class="normal">His voice sounded hollow in their ears as they ran down the vaulted +passage which opened before them, lit at intervals by those cunning +air-holes hidden flowerfully in the scrollwork of one of the +marble-edged aqueducts, and the closing door behind them blew a breath +of the rose scent from the vault after their retreating figures.</p> + +<br> +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:20pt">* * * * *</p> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Two years had passed. Nine long months spent in keeping a foe at bay; +three in following that spent and broken foe to the bitter end; and +then a year of English skies and English faces to dull the memory of +that long strain to mind and body.</p> + +<p class="normal">And then once more a young Englishman, with a girl in a pink dress, +drove into that garden of dead Kings. But the four-square wall was in +ruins. It had been a rallying-point of that spent and broken foe.</p> + +<p class="normal">The garden itself was neglected, the roses unpruned. And those two +were changed also, and an <i>ayah</i> holding a baby remained in the hired +carriage which they left waiting for them under the blossoming trees, +as the dogcart had waited that May evening two years before.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm afraid he must have thought us awfully ungrateful," said the man, +regretfully. "But it couldn't be helped at first; then afterwards one +had to move on. But I did write, you know, more than once about him, +after we got a grip on the place again; so I hope they have done +something."</p> + +<p class="normal">"They will have to now, at any rate," said the wearer of the pink +dress, firmly.</p> + +<p class="normal">The sight of the garden, changed, neglected as it was, had brought +back the very picture of that grizzled head with the curved hair, +slipping through the rose-bushes, the delicate dark hand holding the +tray of rose-leaves, as it slid over the bushes with its luck-offering +for the bride. Yes! even if justice had been slow, inevitably slow, it +should come now. This very evening, though she and her husband had +only arrived in the station that morning.</p> + +<p class="normal">They went to the rose square first, but Hushmut was not there. Then, +seeing by the lack of blossom that the time of roses was not yet, they +went on to the orange groves.</p> + +<p class="normal">No one was there. So, doubtfully, they passed to the jasmine, to the +lemon grass.</p> + +<p class="normal">But no one was to be seen. Nothing was to be heard but the lazy yet +insistent cry of some one scaring the birds from the pomegranates.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Let us ask him. He may know," suggested the wearer of the pink dress. +So they called him and he came--an old man, wizened, careworn.</p> + +<p class="normal">Yes, he said, he knew. Wherefore not, when he had guarded fruit in +that garden since he was a boy? There was not much to guard now, owing +to past evils. Hushmut the essence-maker--Hushmut was dead. No one +made essences any more. How did he die? Very simply. He had seen it +with his own eyes when he was guarding fruit. The <i>Huzoors</i> had +doubtless heard of the evil times, even though, as the coachman had +told him, they had just come from <i>wilayet</i>. Well, it began quite +suddenly one evening in May. It was the peaches he was guarding then. +There had been a "fool's dinner" in the garden, and afterwards a young +<i>sahib</i> and a miss in a pink dress had come running in to take refuge +from the troopers. He had seen them, but what could he do? But Hushmut +had shown them the secret passage, no doubt. Anyhow he had come out +alone and closed the door, and sate beside it singing when the +troopers rode up.</p> + +<p class="normal">And doubtless they would have believed him, seeing that he was friends +with all the bad walkers in the city through the selling of his +essences; but for a bit of the Miss-<i>sahiba's</i> dress which had caught +in the door hasp. So they knew what he had done, and being enraged, +had killed him there, by the door. It was quite simple.</p> + +<p class="normal">Quite. So simple that those two said nothing. Only their hands sought +each other as they turned back to the summer-house.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I should like to see the place again," said the wearer of the pink +dress in a hard, even voice. "I wonder if the door is open?"</p> + +<p class="normal">It was; for no one made essences now. So they entered.</p> + +<p class="normal">The still stood in the corner as before. The pile of that strange fuel +lay between it and the trays of rose-leaves. But there was no +difference between them now. Both were yellow, scentless; and though +the pink paper which Hushmut had pasted over the rose-shaped air-holes +was all broken and torn by birds and winds and weather, the bees did +not drift in.</p> + +<p class="normal">For there was no scent to lead them on. None.</p> + +<p class="normal">The winds of two long years had swept it away absolutely. What else +was to be expected?</p> + +<p class="normal">Yet a vague disappointment showed in the woman's face as it had in the +girl's.</p> + +<p class="normal">But this time the man's voice trembled as he answered her look with +the words--</p> + +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="i6">"Only the actions of the just,<br> +Smell sweet and blossom in the dust."</p> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_henry" href="#div1Ref_henry">LITTLE HENRY AND HIS BEARER</a></h2> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CHAPTER I</h3> +<br> +<p class="normal">When I was a child I wept over a story--if I remember right, by Mrs. +Sherwood--which bore this title.</p> + +<p class="normal">Years after I came to man's estate, I felt inclined to weep over an +incident in real life which this title seemed to fit.</p> + +<p class="normal">Looking back on those first tears, I judge them uncalled for by what +my maturer age condemns as false sentiment. Perhaps my later emotion +is equally at fault. The reader had better judge for himself.</p> + +<br> +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:20pt">* * * * *</p> +<br> + +<p class="normal">"Speak on, O Bisrâm, bearer! Wherefore dost not obey? Speak on about +Mai Kâli and the Noose--the Noose that is so soft, that never slips. +Wherefore dost not speak, son of an owl?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The voice was childish, fretful. So was the listless little figure in +a flannel dressing-gown, which lay half upon the reed mat spread on +the verandah floor, half against the red and yellow livery coat of +Bisrâm, bearer. The latter remained silent, his dark eyes fixed +deprecatingly on a taller figure within earshot. It was the child's +mother, standing for a glance at her darling.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Speak! Why dost not speak, base-born child of pigs? Lo! I will smite +thee. Speak of Mai Kâli and the Noose. Lo! Bisrâm, bearer, be not +unkind. Remember I am sick. Show me the Noose. <i>Ai!</i> Bisra! show it to +Sonny Baba."</p> + +<p class="normal">The liquid Urdu fell from the child's lips with quaint precision, and +ended in the coaxing wail of one who knows his power.</p> + +<p class="normal">That was unmistakable. The man's high-bred, sensitive face, which had +not quivered under the parentage assigned to him by the thin, +domineering voice, melted at the appeal, and the red and yellow arms +seemed to close round their charge at the very suggestion of sickness. +Bisrâm gave another deprecating glance at the tall white figure at the +door, and then, from the folds of his waistcloth, took out a silk +handkerchief crumpled into a ball. But a dexterous flutter left it in +uncreased folds across the child's knees.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Lo! Protector of the Poor! such is the Noose of Kâli," said Bisrâm, +deferentially.</p> + +<p class="normal">Seen thus, the handkerchief looked larger than one would have +expected: or perhaps it is more correct to say longer, for, the +texture being loose like canvas, even the slight drag across the +child's knees stretched the stuff lengthwise. It was of that curious +Indian colour called <i>oodah</i>, which is not purple or crimson, but +which looks as if it had been the latter and might become the +former--the colour, briefly, of recently spilt blood. It looked well, +however, in the soft lustrous folds lying upon the child's white +dressing-gown. He smiled down at it joyfully: yet not content, since +there was more to come.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Twist it for Mai Kâli. Twist it, Bisrâm, bearer! <i>Ai!</i> base-born, +twist it or I will smite--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is time for the Shelter of the World to take his medicine," began +Bisrâm, interrupting the imperious little voice. "Lo! does his Honour +not see the <i>mem</i> waiting for him?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Sonny gave a quick glance at his mother. He knew his power there also. +"I'se not goin' to take it, mum," he called decisively, "till he's +twisted a' Noose. I won't--I want a' stwangle somefin' first. Tell +him, mum--please. Then I'll 'waller it like a good boy."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do what he wants, Bisrâm, and then bring him here," said Sonny's +mother, her eyes soft. For the child had but lately chosen the path of +Life instead of the Valley of the Shadow, so even wayward footsteps +along it were welcome.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Now is it Government orders," boasted Sonny, reverting to the +precisions and peremptoriness of Hindustani with a wave of his small +hand. "So twist and strangle, and if thou dost it not, my father will +cause hanging to come to thee."</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Huzoor!</i>" assented Bisrâm, cheerfully, as he shifted his burden +slightly so as to free his left hand. The next instant a purple +crimson rope of a thing, circled on itself, settled down upon the neck +of a big painted mud tiger, bright yellow with black stripes and fiery +red eyes, which one of the native visitors had brought that morning +for the magistrate's little son.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Now the Protector of the Poor can pull," said Bisrâm, bearer. "It +will not slip."</p> + +<p class="normal">But Sonny's wan little face had perplexity and doubt in it. "But, +Bisra, Mai Kâli rides a tiger. She wouldn't stwangle it. Would she, +mum? I wouldn't stwangle my pony. I'd wather stwangle the gwoom; +wouldn't you, mum? I would. I'd wather like to stwangle Gâmoo."</p> + +<p class="normal">"My dear Sonny!" exclaimed his mother, looking with amused horror at +the still, helpless little figure which Bisrâm had brought to her. +"You wouldn't murder poor Gâmoo, surely!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Sonny made faces over his quinine, as if that were a matter of much +more importance.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Ess, I would," he said, with his mouth full of sweet biscuits. "I'd +stwangle him, and then Mai Kâli would be pleased for a fousand years; +and then I'd stwangle Ditto an' Peroo too; so she'd be pleased for a +fousand fousand years--wouldn't she, Bisra?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Huzoor!</i>" assented Bisrâm, bearer.</p> + +<p class="normal">"My dear," said Sonny's mother, going back with a somewhat disturbed +look to the room where the magistrate, Sonny's father, was busy over +crabbed Sanskrit texts and bright-coloured talc pictures; for in his +leisure hours he was compiling a Hindu Pantheon for the use of +students, "I almost wish Bisrâm would not tell Sonny so many stories +about the gods and goddesses. They do such horrid things."</p> + +<p class="normal">The scholar, who in his heart nourished a hope that his son might in +due time follow in his footsteps, and, perhaps, gain reputation where +his father only found amusement, looked up from his books mildly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Gods and goddesses always do, my dear. Their morality seldom conforms +to that which obtains among their worshippers. I intend to draw +general attention to this anomaly. Besides, Sonny will have to learn +these things anyhow when he begins Greek and Latin; he will in fact +find this previous knowledge of great use. Kâli, for instance, is +the terrific form of Durga who, of course, corresponds to the Juno +of the Greeks and Romans and the Isis of Egypt. She is also the +crescent-crowned Diana, and as Parbutt the Earth-mother Ceres. Under +the name of Atma, again, she is 'goddess of souls governing the three +worlds,' and so equivalent to Hecate Triformis--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes! my dear," interrupted his wife, meekly. "But for all that I +don't want Sonny to talk of strangling the grooms; it really doesn't +sound nice. However, as Bisrâm is eager, now Sonny is really +recovering, to get away at once for his usual leave, I won't say +anything to the child. He will forget while Bisrâm is away, and I will +give orders that the latter is not to mention the subject on his +return."</p> + +<p class="normal">Bisrâm himself, receiving his pay and his orders ere starting on the +yearly visit to his own country, which was the only portion of +his life by day or night not absolutely--without any reservation +whatever--at the disposal of his employers, fully acquiesced in the +<i>mem-sahiba's</i> dictum. The Noose of Kâli was scarcely a nice game for +the little master; indeed his slave would never have introduced it +under ordinary circumstances. But the <i>mem</i> must remember that +dreadful day when the Heart's-eye lay so still, caring for nothing, +and the doctor-<i>sahib</i> had said there was nothing to be done save to +coax him into looking into the restless Face of Life instead of into +the restful Face of Death. That was when he, Bisrâm, who knew, had +spoken of the Noose; and, at least, it had done the little Shelter of +the World no harm.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Harm?" echoed Sonny's mother, gently. "You have never done him harm, +Bisra. Why, the doctor-<i>sahib</i> himself said your hand was fortunate +with the child. If you had not been with him, I think--I think, +Bisrâm--he might have died. And now I am even wondering if I am wise +to let you go--"</p> + +<p class="normal">Bisrâm looked up eagerly. "I must go, <i>Huzoor</i>--I must go without fail +to-night--the year is over--" He paused abruptly, then added quietly: +"The <i>Huzoor</i> need have no fear. The little master will do well. The +Mighty One who cares for children will protect this one."</p> + +<p class="normal">He spoke with such faith in voice and face, that Sonny's mother going +back once more to the study, and finding her husband busy as usual +over his Pantheon, lingered to look doubtfully at the talc pictures, +and finally remark that after all the people really had a good deal of +religious feeling, and actually seemed to believe in a God. Bisrâm, +for instance, had said that Sonny was in the guardianship of One who +suffered the little children-- Here her eyes filled with tears, and +her voice sank.</p> + +<p class="normal">"He meant Mâta Devi, I expect, my dear," replied the scholar without +looking up. "She is another form of Kâli or Durga, and corresponds to +Cybele or the Mater Montana--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"He was very eager to get away, however," went on Sonny's mother, +almost aggrievedly. "I really think he might have stayed a few days +longer till the boy was quite himself. But devoted as he is, he is +just like the rest of them--selfishly set on what they are accustomed +to--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"He put off going nearly a month though, and you know, my dear, that +when he took service as Sonny's bearer, he stipulated for a +fortnight's leave every spring, about a certain time, in order to +perform some religious ceremonial," protested the justice.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, and he has had it. Every year for five years; so he might have +given it up for once. But he wouldn't. I don't believe he would, not +even to save Sonny's life. However, I think the child is all right, +and even if I had kept Bisrâm, he wouldn't have been much good, for he +has been frightfully restless and hurried the last few days."</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not seem so, however, as he stood quietly in the growing dusk +at the gateless gate of the compound to look back at the house where +he had left the little Shelter of the World asleep. His scarlet and +yellow coat was gone, replaced by the faint coral-coloured garments of +the pilgrim; he carried a network-covered pot for holy water, slung on +his left wrist, and the yellow trident of Siva showed like a frown on +his forehead. The thickets of flowering shrubs, the tangles of white +petunias bordering the path, sent their perfume into the air; but +above it rose the heavy, dead-sweet scent from a wild <i>dhatura</i> plant +which, taking advantage of an unweeded nook by the gate, thrust its +long white flowers across the pilaster; one of them indeed reaching +past it, and so, seen five-pointed against the dusk beyond, looking +like a slim white hand pointing the way thither.</p> + +<p class="normal">Bisrâm stooped deliberately to pick it, tore it into its five +segments, and placed the pieces in his bosom, muttering softly, +"With heart and brain and feet, and hands and eyes, Devi, I am thy +servant." Then for a second he raised himself to his full height, and +stretched both his thin, fine hands--such delicately supple, strong +hands--towards the house. "Sleep sound, Life of my Life," he murmured +again. "Sleep sound, and have no fear. The offering will be complete, +though the time is short indeed."</p> + +<p class="normal">So, turning on his heel, he passed into the dusk, beyond the gate, +whither the flower had pointed.</p> + +<p class="normal">A fortnight later he came out of it once more, passed into his hut in +the gloaming, dressed as a pilgrim, and emerged therefrom ten minutes +afterwards in the red and yellow coat, with a huge white turban with a +bend, as the heralds call it, across it bearing his master's crest. So +altered, he slipped back into his place as if he had never left it, +and setting aside the reed screen at the door of Sonny's nursery, +stood within. Sonny, in his white flannel dressing-gown, was +convalescent enough to be saying his prayers, kneeling on his mother's +knee.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Go on, dear," she said gently. "You can speak to Bisrâm afterwards."</p> + +<p class="normal">Sonny, whose feet were less wayward, now shut his eyes again, and +assumed a prayerful expression.</p> + +<p class="normal">"--an' all kine friends, an' make me a velly good boy--yamen--O Bisra! +where's the Noose?" The mother might smile, unable so far to pretend +ignorance. Not so Bisrâm, bearer, who had his orders.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What Noose, Shelter of the World?" he asked gravely. "Thy servant +remembers none; but he hath brought the Protector of the Poor a toy."</p> + +<p class="normal">It was only one of the many which you can buy in any Indian town for +the fraction of a farthing, made of mud, straw, cane; a bit of tinsel +perhaps, or tuft of cotton-wool, their sole value over and above the +ingenuity and time spent in making them. But Sonny had never seen this +kind before, and laughed as the snakes, made out of curled shavings, +leapt and twisted. Leapt so like life that his mother drew back +hastily, telling herself that the bearer had certainly a fine taste in +horrors. And no doubt there would be some tale to match these. Sonny, +however, seemed to know it vaguely, for a puzzled look replaced the +laugh. "Yea! Bisra," he said in imperious argument, "Mai Kâli had +snakes and skulls too; but I like the Noose best. Why didst not bring +it back, son of an owl?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The man never moved a muscle. "The little master mistakes," he replied +calmly. "It was some others who tied the Noose. Not this dustlike one. +He is but the Protector of the Poor's bearer, Bisrâm."</p> +<br> +<br> + +<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> +<br> +<p class="normal">A year is an eternity to the memory of a child. Indeed before a +twelfth of one was over Sonny had ceased from suddenly, irrelevantly +asking, "O Bisra! where is the Noose? Why didst not bring it back, son +of an owl?" The thought seemed to have passed from his life +altogether. From Bisrâm also, as he tended the child night and day, +day and night, unremittingly, contentedly.</p> + +<p class="normal">So the spring of the year returned, and with it, by one of those +mysterious coincidences beyond classification, came the old desire. It +came suddenly--irrelevantly it seemed to Sonny's parents--during a +brief attack of fever which the changing season brought to the boy. +But Bisrâm, bearer, hearing the little fretful wail, "O Bisra, where +is the Noose? I want the Noose," stood silent for a moment with a +scared look in his eyes, then turned them in quick appeal to his +mistress, as if to ask leave for something. But she was silent also, +so the old formula came gently--</p> + +<p class="normal">"What Noose, Shelter of the World?"</p> + +<p class="normal">That evening, however, when Harry--as his mother vainly strove to call +him, now that, as she used to tell the boy fondly, he was a man and +had had his curls cut--had fallen into the heavy sleep which brings so +little relief, the bearer came into the study and asked for his usual +yearly leave. A week might do, but leave he must have at once. True, +the year was not up, but the master would doubtless remember that his +slave had deferred going at the proper season last time because of +Harry-<i>sahib's</i> illness (Bisrâm, punctilious to the least order, never +forgot the child's new dignity). He did not want to lose the right +season again; and so, if he went now, at once, even for a week, he +would be back in time even if Harry-<i>sahib</i> were to be ill as he was +last year, which Heaven forbid!</p> + +<p class="normal">He was quite calm, but there was an almost pathetic entreaty in his +dark eyes, so soft, so dark, that looking into them, one seemed to see +nothing save soft darkness.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Go!" commented Sonny's mother, when, moved by a vague feeling that +Bisrâm meant well, his master handed on his request to the real +authority. "Certainly not. I wonder he has the face to ask for leave +when Sonny--I mean Harry--is down with fever. Not that it is anything, +the doctor says, but a passing attack. Still, I am not going to run +any risks with a strange servant. Go, indeed! It shows what his +pretended devotion is worth--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Surely, my dear, he <i>is</i> devoted--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, very! in his way. But really you spoil Bisra, Edward. Just +because he can tell you things about those horrid gods and goddesses. +Do you know, I really think of getting an English nurse for the child +until I have--until I have to take him home," interrupted his wife, +her initial sharpness of tone softening over the inevitable certainty +of separation which clouds Indian motherhood. "It cannot be right to +let him live in such an atmosphere of superstition and ignorance."</p> + +<p class="normal">The magistrate, who was leaving the room, had paused at her remark +about the nurse as he might have paused before a painful scene. "By +Jove!" he murmured as if to himself, "I believe it would break the +man's heart. I often wonder what on earth he'll do when the child +has--to go home."</p> + +<p class="normal">The inevitable lent a tremor to the father's voice also. But Bisrâm, +despite the former's belief, spoke of the same separation quite calmly +when, the very next morning the doctor coming early, found his little +patient in the verandah getting the advantage of the fresh, bright air +in Bisra's arms.</p> + +<p class="normal">"When," asked the latter, calmly, but with that slow pathetic anxiety +in his eyes, "was Harry-<i>sahib</i> going across the black water?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"You think he ought to go?" said the doctor. "Why?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"This slave does not think; he knows! The little master must go--go at +once," replied the man, still calmly, though he held the child to him +with a visibly closer strain. "The <i>Huzoor</i> himself knows how bad +Hindustan is for the little ones. He must go, <i>Huzoor</i>, before he gets +worse."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But he is not going to get worse," said the doctor, kindly. "He is +better already, and if he has another bout of fever his mother has +promised to take him to the hills, so don't distress yourself."</p> + +<p class="normal">Bisrâm's dark eyes looked wistfully into the doctor's.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The hills? That would be worse. That would be nearer the evil. He +must go far from Hindustan at once, <i>Huzoor</i>; and if you tell the +<i>mem</i> this she will go--she will not mind."</p> + +<p class="normal">"And you, Bisra?" asked the doctor, curiously.</p> + +<p class="normal">The man's eyes flinched, but he never stirred a muscle under the blow.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I am only the little master's bearer, <i>Huzoor</i>. He will not need one +much longer: he grows big."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is only because he is in a hurry to get away himself, I verily +believe," said Sonny's mother, when the doctor, also vaguely impressed +with something in the man's appeal, told her of it. "You can't fathom +these people. Oh! I know he wouldn't abate one atom of his care, and +it is simply wonderful. All the same, I believe that just now he would +be glad to be rid of the necessity for it, since it clashes with some +of his religious notions. That's it, depend upon it. And I mean to let +him go as soon as Sonny--I mean Harry--is better; and he really is +better to-day, isn't he?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Much better. And you may be right; only it's always impossible to lay +down the law for men like Bisra. Those high-caste hill Brahmins are a +law unto themselves. However, I expect to find the boy quite cool +to-morrow." He was not, however, and more than once, as he lay in +Bisra's arms, the little fretful wail rose between sleeping and +waking. "Where's the Noose, Bisra? I want the Noose." And Bisra would +pause as if waiting for a promise of wayward life in threat or abuse, +and when neither came would turn a wistful appeal to authority, and +when it was silent say--</p> + +<p class="normal">"What Noose, Shelter of the World?"</p> + +<p class="normal">But in the dead of night a day or two later, when even maternal +authority slept for a brief spell, Bisra's answer to the request, +which came almost incoherently from the child's dry lips, was +different.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then he stood bent over the boy's cot in the attitude of a suppliant, +and his joined petitioning hands trembled.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why dost ask it, Kâli ma?" he whispered rapidly. "Lo! have I not +served thee? Would I not serve thee now if I could? But I have +promised this, and they will not let me go for the other. Lo! Kâli ma! +be merciful and ask no more, and when the child has gone away, I will +serve thee all the years--yea! every day of all the years."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was no passion, no excitement in his face or voice; only that +pathetic appeal which passed into a murmured lullaby as the restless +little sleeper turned on his pillow with a sigh of greater content.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Better again this morning," was the doctor's verdict, with the rider +that Bisrâm himself stood in need of a little rest. The man smiled +faintly when his mistress replied that it would be her turn that +night; though, to say sooth, Harry certainly did seem to improve when +she slept.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Perhaps Bisrâm works charms," remarked the doctor, thoughtlessly; +whereat she frowned.</p> + +<p class="normal">Charms or no charms, the boy was certainly worse next morning, and +that despite the fact that Bisrâm, who had steadily refused to go +further than the verandah, had spent the night huddled up outside the +threshold, within which his mistress refused to allow him to come. He +needed rest, she said, and though she could not compel him to take it, +he should at least not work.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You had better let him have his own way to-night," said the doctor at +his evening visit. "The child gets on better, and you are fresher for +the day's nursing. Those thin, delicate-looking natives are very wiry, +and if the man won't rest, he won't, and that's an end of it."</p> + +<p class="normal">He spoke cheerfully; but as he was getting into his dogcart he saw +Bisrâm at his elbow. "The doctor-<i>sahib</i> thinks the little master very +ill to-night?" he asked quietly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"So ill that you must do your very best for him to-night. If any one +can pull him through, you can, remember that."</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Huzoor!</i>" said Bisrâm, submissively.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was a very dark night; so dark that the rushlight in Sonny's room +seemed almost brilliant from the verandah. Looking thence you could +see the child's cot, one of its side rails removed, and in its place, +as it were, the protection of Bisrâm's crouching figure. He did not +touch the cot; he crouched beside it with clasped hands hanging over +his knees, and dark eyes staring hard into the darkness as if waiting +and listening.</p> + +<p class="normal">So he sate, his clasped hands loosening, his eyes growing softer as +the hours passed, bringing nothing but half-conscious sleep, +half-conscious wakening to the child. Until suddenly, irrelevantly, +just on the border-land of night and day, the fretful wail rose upon +the silence loudly, insistently--</p> + +<p class="normal">"Where is the Noose, Bisra? I want it. O Bisrâm, bearer, bring the +Noose, and strangle something."</p> + +<p class="normal">The slackness, the dreaminess left the man's hands and eyes. He +stood up blindly, desperately to face these last words; the words for +which he had been listening. Yet there was still the same pathetic +self-control as he stretched his hands out over the sleeping child.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Lo! Kâli ma," he muttered, "have I not served thee as ever, despite +the child. Have I set him before thee? Nay! thou knowest I have risked +life itself to have thy tale of offering complete when I was hindered. +Thou didst not suffer. Wilt not wait for once? Wilt not wait one +little while?"</p> + +<p class="normal">His voice, sinking in its entreaty, ended in silence. But only for a +second. Then the fretful wail began again.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The Noose, Bisra! Be not unkind. Remember I am ill. O Bisra! I want +you to strangle something for me--"</p> + +<p class="normal">Bisra gave a faint sob; then joined his outstretched hands.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Huzoor!</i> so be it! the Noose shall find a victim. Yea, Shelter of +the World, Bisra will strangle something. Sleep in peace!"</p> + +<p class="normal">There was no sound in the room after that save the little contented +sigh in which restlessness finds rest.</p> + +<p class="normal">Outside, the shiver of the cicalas seemed to count the seconds, but +inside the hours seemed to pass unnoticed as Bisra sate beside the +cot, his hands listless, his eyes dreamy. There was nothing to wait +for now, nothing to fear. That which had to come had come.</p> + +<p class="normal">So with the first glint of light, a stealthy step glided in, and an +anxious voice whispered--</p> + +<p class="normal">"How is it with the child, Bisra?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is well!" he whispered back, rising rather stiffly. "He hath slept +since the darkest hour. He will sleep on."</p> + +<p class="normal">The mother, peering carefully for a glimpse of the child's face, +smiled at what she saw.</p> + +<p class="normal">"He sleeps, indeed. Thou hast done well, Bisra!"</p> + +<p class="normal">He made no answer. But ere he left the room, his night-watch being +over, he paused to touch the foot-rail of the cot with both hands and +so <i>salaam</i>, as those do who leave the presence.</p> + +<p class="normal">Sonny was still sleeping when his father, entering his study with a +lighter heart, found a stranger, as he thought, awaiting him there. It +was a man, naked save for a waistcloth, lean, sinewy, lithe; the head +was clean-shaven, save for the Brahminical tuft, and the face was +disfigured by the weird caste marks of extreme fanaticism.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who--?" he began, shrinking involuntarily from one who might well be +dangerous.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is Bisra, <i>Huzoor</i>" said a familiar voice, gently. "Bisra, the +child-bearer. Bisra, the servant of Kâli also. Lo! here is Her Noose." +As he spoke he held out the crimson-scarlet handkerchief twisted to a +rope, and coiled in his curved palms like a snake. "The master, being +learned, will know the Noose and its meaning. It hath brought Her many +a blood-offering, <i>Huzoor</i>. Many and many every year without fail. And +it will not fail this year either. It will bring Her the blood of Her +servant, the blood of Bisrâm the Strangler."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Bisrâm the Strangler!" echoed the magistrate, stupidly, as the even, +monotonous voice ceased. Then he sate down helplessly in his chair. In +truth he knew too much of the mystery of India to be quite +incredulous.</p> + +<p class="normal">Yet two hours after, when with the help of the police-officer he had +been cross-questioning Bisra upon his confession, he told himself as +helplessly that it was incredible--the man must be mad. He had been +born to strangle, he said, and had strangled to keep Kâli ma content. +That was necessary when you were born Her servant, especially when you +had children. Perhaps he had let the little Shelter of the World creep +too close to his heart, though he had striven to be just. At any rate +Kâli ma had become jealous. He had not known this, at first, or he +would never have given the mistress that promise about the Noose, for +if it had been in Harry-<i>sahib's</i> hands Devi would never have sought +his life. She always protected those with the Noose--they never came +to harm--unless-- He had paused there, and then asked quickly if he +had not said enough? Did they want him to tell any more! He could not +give them the names of the victims, of course, not knowing them; but +they were many--very many.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There is nothing against him but his own story," said the magistrate, +fighting against his growing conviction that the man spoke truth. "I +can't commit him to the sessions on that."</p> + +<p class="normal">"There is something more, I think," replied the police-officer, +reluctantly. "Don't you remember that man who was found dead in a +railway carriage about this time last year? He had an up-country +ticket on him, and as this was out of the beat of Stranglers, no +inquiry was made here. It was just about this time, and--and Bisrâm +says he was in a hurry because the year was nearly up. He had been +nursing the boy."</p> + +<p class="normal">The boy's father, leaning with his head on his hand, groaned.</p> + +<p class="normal">But Bisra was quite cheerful. He looked a little anxious, however, +when two days after he was brought up formally to be committed for +trial. There was still nothing definite against him save his own +confession and the coincidence of the strangled man in the railway +carriage. But opinion was dead against him amongst his countrymen. Of +course he was one of Kâli's Stranglers. Did he not look one? Was he +not born one? So how could he help being one? The argument brought no +consolation to Sonny's father. But Bisrâm again was cheerful. He stood +patiently between two yellow-legged policemen and told his tale at +length, as if anxious to incriminate himself as much as possible, +anxious that there should be no mistake. And when all the mysterious +intricacies of charges and papers were over, and the two policemen +nudged him to make place for other criminals, with a friendly "Come +along, brother," he paused a moment with handcuffed, petitioning hands +to ask how soon he was to be hanged.</p> + +<p class="normal">The magistrate, leaning his head on his hand, made no answer. He knew +what the question meant, and could not. The thought of his little son +came between him and the truth; namely, that Bisra's sacrifice must +wait the law's pleasure.</p> + +<p class="normal">The doctor, too, in charge of the gaol where Bisra awaited trial, had +not the heart to tell the truth. Every day when on his rounds he +looked into the cell, like a wild beast's cage, where Bisra, being a +Strangler, and therefore dangerous to life, was confined alone, he +answered the question which the tall, naked figure stood up at his +entrance to ask in the same words. Harry-<i>sahib</i> was better, and as +for the hanging, that would come soon enough, never fear. Yet every +day the pathetic, self-controlled eagerness on the man's face struck +him with a sense of physical pain, and left him helpless before his +own pity.</p> + +<p class="normal">Until a day came--after not many days--when with a face sad from the +sight of bitter grief that he <i>could</i> understand, the sense of his +absolute helplessness before the mystery of this man's nature made the +doctor feel inclined to throw pity to the winds and fall back on sheer +common sense. After all the man was a murderer; and if he had been +fond of the child--what then? Such criminals were often men of strong +affections.</p> + +<p class="normal">Yet once again, the sight of the submissive, <i>salaaming</i> figure, the +sound of the wistful yet calm voice made him answer as usual. The +child was better. The hanging would doubtless come ere long.</p> + +<p class="normal">For once, however, Bisrâm did not accept the reply as final.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The <i>Huzoor</i> means that it will not come today?" he asked quietly.</p> + +<p class="normal">The doctor raised his eyebrows. "To-day? What made you think of +to-day? Certainly not. There's no chance of it."</p> + +<p class="normal">But he was wrong. Two hours afterwards the gaol overseer sent for him +in a hurry, because Bisrâm had completed his sacrifice by strangling +himself in his cell with his waistcloth. What else could he do, seeing +that it was the last day of the year during which the propitiation of +a sacrifice kept Kâli ma from revenge?</p> + +<p class="normal">"Poor devil!" said the doctor, as he stood up after his useless +examination. "I'm glad now I didn't tell him the child was dead."</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_hall" href="#div1Ref_hall">THE HALL OF AUDIENCE</a></h2> +<br> + +<p class="normal">"This, gentlemen and respected sirs," said the blatant specimen of new +India whom my friend Robbins had insisted on having as a guide to a +ruined Rajput town, "is Hall of Common Audience, in more colloquial +phrase, Court of Justice, built two, ought, six before Christ B.C. by +Great Asoka, mighty monarch of then united Hindustan, full of Manu +wisdoms, and sacred Veda occultations--"</p> + +<p class="normal">Then I gave in. "For God's sake, Robbins," I said, "take away that +fool or I shall kill him. A man who be-plasters even the Deity with +university degrees is intolerable here."</p> + +<p class="normal">Robbins gave me that look of condoling forbearance which had nearly +driven me mad for a week and beguiled the <i>babee</i> away promptly, as if +I had been a fractious child. I was, however, only a jilted man. A +badly jilted man, whose jilting was of the kind which becomes almost +comic from sheer excess of tragedy. To be brief, I had gone down on +ten days' leave to Bombay to meet and marry the girl to whom I had +been engaged for two years. Robbins, who was coming out in the same +ship with her, was to have been best man. We had certainly been in +love with each other when we last met; at least, if I was not, I have +never been in love at all. If she was not, then I have never seen a +girl in love. I wish to be absolutely fair in the matter, so I will +confess that, as I went to meet her, I knew myself to be less +emotional than I had been two years before. I had even vague qualms as +to whether this sort of thing was quite wise. I was, to put it curtly, +in the mental condition in which every man about to marry a <i>fiancée</i> +whom he has not seen for two years must be. Presumably her mental +condition was similar. But whereas I had to spend the three weeks +preceding the irrevocable step in a jungle station where any novelty +must necessarily be attractive, she spent it in an environment which +gave her endless opportunities of seeing other men, and comparing them +with me, and her ideal. The result being that she found she was in +love with some one else. Being frank and honourable she told me the +truth, with a kind of blank dismay. She did not offer to fulfil her +engagement. How could she? when from the beginning to the end, from +her first confession that I was her ideal, to her last letter, then in +my breast pocket, the whole fabric of our future lives had been built +by us on our belief in the permanence of this selfsame love of ours. +We could only look in each other's eyes and wonder what was the matter +with the foundations of our round world.</p> + +<p class="normal">Robbins said I behaved splendidly. In truth I was too much stunned at +first to realise what it actually meant, and then a certain contempt +for them both, especially for the man who came and offered me a shot +at him, made me magnanimous. I merely offered in my turn to be best +man at the wedding, and was only deterred from doing so by the feeling +that it was theatrical, and by Robbins suggesting that I had better +have some ice on the back of my head. He meant well, did Robbins, and +insisted on accompanying me on what was to have been my wedding tour; +for I had my ten days' leave, and I was in no hurry to go back to the +gossiping little station where the bungalow I had furnished for her +lay waiting a mistress.</p> + +<p class="normal">Yes! Robbins meant well, and by sheer counter-irritation kept me +going. There was a honeymoon off the same ship which came up country +with us stage by stage, and the efforts Robbins made to prevent me +from seeing its bliss were pathetically comic. The bride and +bridegroom wore neat, new, brown-leather shoes, and she had a new +brown-leather handbag, just like one which I had carried for my +<i>fiancée</i> before she explained the situation. As I sate opposite them +I wondered savagely if my face had worn the idiotic smirk of sheer +content visible on the man's, and I tucked my own new brown shoes +under the seat. They looked so forlorn beside Robbins' big boots. For +all that, I combated all condemnation of the delinquents for the first +three days. The only honourable theory of marriage being that based +upon a mutual and romantic love, it would be unjust because of a +single mistake, to blame any one for acting in accordance with a +belief which had made Englishmen and Englishwomen what, thank God, +they were. In fact I was badly, brutally moral, until, coming out into +the hotel verandah during one of our rests by the way, I happened on +the bride and bridegroom looking at the moon.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then the primeval desire to murder rose up, seized me, and held me. +Why hadn't I taken the scoundrel's offer and killed him? I was a good +shot; and Robbins, as an army doctor, an excellent second. Then I +could have married the bride-widow, or spurned her, as I preferred.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was really, I told myself, no logical foothold between this and +being best man. If marriage was an affair of love, these two were +right, and the part designed for me by Providence obviously that of +second fiddle. If not, they were wrong, and I had a right to claim +redress. To shilly-shally, feeling at once hurt and magnanimous, was +absurd. I had lain awake, afterwards, debating half in jest, half in +earnest, whether I should send Robbins back to the wedding with my +cartel, or go myself with a set of silver salt-cellars in a velvet +case. But underneath my jest and earnest lay a keen yet vague desire +to understand, to find some solid spot on which to rest. I had still +been debating the question, when, to please Robbins, who liked me to +have no time for thought, we had driven out next morning to these +ruins. The country through which we drove had been the ordinary +Rajputana country; flat--or nearly so--dry, rocky. Then we had come to +a spiky, spiny, roach-back hillock, over which the dead town sprawled, +half buried in its own dust, half lost in the sunshine.</p> + +<p class="normal">I had been watching Robbins' big boots all the way, so I was in a bad +temper. Apart from other causes, however, I had some excuse for +threatening to kill the guide. For the Hall of Audience to which we +had just climbed was, briefly, one of those places which make some +of us nineteenth-century folk remember the warning given long ago to +an eager reformer to take the shoes from off his feet, since the +ground whereon he stood had already been made holy by other hands than +his. Yet it was plain almost to bareness. Devoid utterly of any of +that ornamentation telling of human hopes and fears, likings, +dislikings, and ideals, which men all over the world strive wistfully, +hopelessly, to make permanent by carving them in stone. But it was a +miracle of light and shade, with its triple ranks of square stone +columns--rose-coloured in the sunshine about their feet, blood red in +the gloom of arches about their heads--standing like sentinels round a +Holy of Holies which was roofed only by the open sky, and floored +level to the marble pavement surrounding the still pool, with clear, +cool water. And through the outer arches, on all sides, showed that +indefinite glare, and dust, and haze, faintly yellow, faintly +purple--that burden and heat of the Eastern day in which millions are +born, and toil, and die--which seems to swallow up the real India and +hide so much of it from Western eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">I had just got so far in my appreciation of the indefinable charm of +the place, when Robbins returned to stand beside me and look down on +the brimming water.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Curious!" he said, "at the top of a hill like this. I wonder what's +the reason of it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Those of uncultivated mind, sirs," replied New India, promptly, "hold +it by reason of Grace-of-God. We who through merciful master's aid +have acquired hydraulics prefer system of secret syphons; though the +latter belief is optional."</p> + +<p class="normal">"If that man remains here," I remarked aside to Robbins, "I refuse to +be held responsible for my actions. Take him away and see the rest of +the ruins. I am going to stop here--this is enough for me."</p> + +<p class="normal">They went off together, the guide babbling of modern equity. The last +words I heard were a quotation: "Boots not to say, O Justice! what +asperities have not been committed in Thy name!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Perhaps. No doubt dreadful things had been done even in this Hall of +Audience, though it lay very still now; very silent in the sunshine.</p> + +<p class="normal">I sate down on the base of a sentinel column and looked at the sky, +mirrored at my feet, wondering what other things the water had seen.</p> + +<p class="normal">So by degrees the question seemed to clamour at me. What had been done +there? What was it? What gave the place its charm for me? For it had a +charm, an infinite charm.</p> + +<p class="normal">I gave an impatient shrug of my shoulders at the sound of footsteps. +Robbins need not surely watch me as if he feared I might commit +suicide; though the water certainly looked inviting. But it was not +Robbins. It was an old man with a shaven head, and a very clean +saffron-coloured cloth, coming through the pillared ranks with a brass +<i>poojah</i> basket like a big cruet-stand in his hand. My mind misgave me +instantly. He was far too clean for a real ascetic, and there was a +bogus air about him as of one expecting tourists and their alms. In +addition he came straight towards me, and squatting down by the edge, +within reach absolutely of my contaminating shadow, began to mutter +prayers.</p> + +<p class="normal">I rose disgusted; but my first movement showed me I was at any rate +partly mistaken, for he turned his head, startled at the sound. Then I +saw he could not have known I was there, for he was blind. I saw also +that the basket which he had set down contained nothing but the +star-like flowers of the wild jasmine.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Whom are you going to worship?" I asked instantly, for I was a +connoisseur in ceremonies, having spent years of study over the +ancient cults of India.</p> + +<p class="normal">He stood up instantly and salaamed, recognising the accent of the +master. "No one, <i>Huzoor</i>," he replied. "I am only going to make +Mother Âtma her crown."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Âtma!" I echoed. "Who was she?"</p> + +<p class="normal">A half-puzzled, half-cunning look came to his face. "It is a long +story, <i>Huzoor</i>; but if the Cherisher of the Poor will give his slave +a rupee--"</p> + +<p class="normal">Returning to my first impression of him, I was about to move away, +when he added plaintively: "I tell it better than the <i>baboo</i>, +<i>Huzoor</i>, but now-a-days he comes with the <i>sahibs</i>. So my stomach is +often empty. May God silence his tongue!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The desire pleased me. It matched my own. And as I paused, I noticed +that the old man, who had squatted down again, had begun to thread the +jasmine flowers on some link which was invisible from where I stood.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What are you using to thread the flowers?" I asked curiously.</p> + +<p class="normal">"A woman's hair, <i>Huzoor</i>. It is always the hair of a woman who has +died, but whose child has lived, that is used for Mai Âtma's crown. +Shall I tell the story, <i>Huzoor?</i>"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Was she beautiful?" I asked irrelevantly, why I know not.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I do not know, <i>Huzoor</i>," he replied. "Am I not blind?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The answer struck me as irrelevant also, but I went on idly, feeling, +in truth, but small interest in what I was convinced must be some +hackneyed tale I had heard a hundred times before, since I was given +to the hearing of tales.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is it about this place?" I asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">He shook his head again. "I do not know, <i>Huzoor</i>. It is about Mai +Âtma. Shall I tell the story?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"You seem to know very little about the story, I must say. How do you +know it is about Âtma?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He smiled broadly. "It is about Mai Âtma, sure enough. The <i>Huzoor</i> +will see that if he lets me tell the tale."</p> + +<p class="normal">I clinked a rupee down among the jasmine flowers and bid him fire +away, and be quick about it.</p> + +<p class="normal">He began instantly, plunging without any preface into a curiously +rhythmed chant, the very first line of which gave pathetic answer to +my irrelevant question, and at the same time showed the cause of the +old man's ignorance. It ran thus:--</p> + +<p class="normal">"O world which she has left, forget not she was fair."</p> + +<p class="normal">Vain appeal when made in the oldest known form of Arya-Pali--the +dialect in which the edicts of Asoka are carved--and of which not one +man in ten million, even in India, knows the very existence. I +happened to be one of the few, and though at the time I could +naturally only gather the general outline of the chant, I subsequently +took it down word for word from the old man's lips. Some passages +still remain obscure; there are yawning gaps in the narrative, but +taking it all in all, it is a singularly clear bit of tradition, +preserved, as it were, by the complete ignorance of those who passed +the words from lip to lip. Roughly translated, it runs thus:--</p> + +<p class="normal">"O world she left, forget not she was fair; so very fair. Her small +kind face so kind. Straight to the eyes it looked, then smiled or +frowned. About her slender throat were gold-blue stones. Gold at her +wrists; the gold hem of her gown slid like a snake along the marble +floor, coiled like a snake upon the water's edge.</p> + +<p class="normal">"By night she asked the stars, by day the sun, what they would have +her do.</p> + +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="i6">"I was her servant sitting at her door,<br> +Watching her small feet kiss the marble floor;<br> +Reading the water mirror's heaven-learnt lore.</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">"O world she left, remember she was Queen!</p> + +<p class="normal">"For Âtma ruled a queen ere she was born, her widowed mother wasting +nine long months to give her life ere following the King.</p> + +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="i6">"O Âtma mâta! strike thy servant blind,<br> +He and his sons for ever, lest they find<br> +Thy face within the crown their fingers bind.</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">"Hark! how her voice comes echoing through the Hall, 'Who hath a claim +to-day 'gainst me or mine?' (There was a dainty jewel at her breast, +kept time in sparkles to her lightest word.)</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Who hath a claim'--her small, kind face so wise!</p> + +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="i6">"O Âtma mâta! strike thy servant blind,<br> +He and his sons for ever!"</p> +</div> + + +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:20pt">* * * * *</p> +<br> + +<p class="normal">"See! how her soft feet kiss the marble floor! Âtma, the girl-queen, +dancing to herself, close to the pool; the jasmine in her hair falling +to fit the rhythm of her feet, and scent their warm life with the +scent of death, or sail away upon the water's breast like mirrored +stars. Oh, bind from them a crown; a crown for Âtma mâta, who is +kind--for Âtma, who hath struck her servant blind."</p> + +<br> +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:20pt">* * * * *</p> +<br> + +<p class="normal">"Hark! how her voice comes whispering in my ear: 'I see naught but my +own face in the deep. No other face but this--my face alone. And there +are always stars about my head, or else the sun. Read me the riddle +quick.' (There was a tremor in her perfumed hair which matched the +tremor of her perfumed breath.) 'Âtma is queen,' I said; 'the stars, +the sun, weave crowns as I do. Wear them. Oh! my queen.'</p> + +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="i6">"O Âtma mâta! rightly am I blind,<br> +Blind was I then in heart and soul and mind.</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">"Hark! how her voice comes echoing through the Hall. (The cold blue +stones about her slender waist clipped all her purple robe to long +straight folds.) 'Go tell your masters, Âtma needs no King. She is the +Queen, her son shall be the King, and not the son to Kings of other +lands. So if they seek for beauty, seek not mine--it is not mine to +give--it is my son's! My son the gods will send me ere I die.'</p> + +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="i6">"O Âtma mâta! strike thy servant blind,<br> +He and his sons for ever, lest they find<br> +Thy face within the crown their fingers bind.</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">"See! how her slim hand grasps the marble throne. See! how her firm +feet grip the marble step! Hark how her voice rings clear with angry +scorn. (There was a loose gold circlet on her wrist, slid to soft +resting as she raised her arm.) 'Oh! shame to brawl like dogs about a +bone! Cowards to kill because a woman's fair. Can they not take the +promise of a Queen? Go! bid your masters bind fair sons in peace. Âtma +will choose a father for her King--she needs no lover.'</p> + +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="i6">"O Âtma mâta! strike thy servant dead.</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">"'Hush!'--just a whisper on the water's edge, a faint glow from the +sacred censer's fire. 'What dost thou see, my friend, down in the +deep? There in the circle of the sacred flowers?' (The incense cloud +rose white upon the dark, and hid us from each other, hid all things +save water and our hands--her hands in mine clasped in the cold clear +pool.) 'Naught, oh my Queen! Naught but thy face--thy face--beside +mine own.' (Cold was the water, cold her little hand, cold was her +voice.) 'Nay! more than that,' she said, 'thou dost forget the stars +about my head.'</p> + +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="i6">"O Âtma mâta! strike thy servant blind,<br> +For being blind in heart and soul and mind.</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">"Hark! how her voice goes echoing through the Hall. 'Go, bid your +masters sheathe their swords at once, nor spill men's blood because a +woman's fair. For I have chosen. I will wed with none, but since God +sends the children to the world and asks no questions how they come or +why, I will take him as father to my King. The law allows adoption; be +it so. From out God's children I have bought a son to be your King and +mine. Lo! here he stands.' (Her arm about the sturdy, dimpled limbs +drew the child closer to the cold blue stones clipping her purple robe +to long, straight folds.) 'Some woman bore him--fair and strong and +bold--bore him by God's decree to be a son. That is enough for me who +am your Queen. Go, tell the brawlers, Âtma hath her King.' (So +stooping, whispered softly to the boy, who straightway lisped to order +parrot-wise.) 'Who hath a claim to-day 'gainst me or mine? Who hath a +claim?' And as of old came answer: 'None, O King.'</p> + +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="i6">"None said they all, and so I held my tongue.<br> +O Âtma mâta! shall I ever find<br> +Thy kind, wise face? Oh! wherefore am I blind?</p> +</div> + +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:20pt">* * * * *</p> +<br> + +<p class="normal">"Hark! how her voice breaks in upon the child's. A claim at last.</p> + +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="i6">"So they--these kings--have dared<br> +To kill my people--nay! not mine--my son's!<br> +Have they no shame--no pity for the poor?</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">"The gold hem round her robe's straight virgin folds coiled like a +snake asleep upon the floor, the sparkling jewel fastened on her +breast shone bright and steady as a distant star.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There was no tremor in her perfumed hair, there was no quiver in her +perfumed breath; the cold blue stones about her throat and waist, the +loose gold circlet on her slender wrist, the jasmine-blossom chaplet +in her hair, looked as though carved in stone, so still she stood +before the dead man on the marble floor.</p> + +<p class="normal">"His red blood crept in curves to find her feet and clasp them in a +claim for vengeance due, while those around cried 'Justice from the +King!'</p> + +<p class="normal">"Until she smiled--her small, kind face so wise, and her clear voice +came echoing through the Hall. 'Vengeance is mine,' she said, 'and not +the King's. Send forth no army, spill no blood for me. Search not the +water-mirror for a sign. I know the answer of the sun and stars. So +send our heralds out, and bid these Kings come as Kings should, and +not as murderers to plead their cause before the King, my son. Come +with all state as to a wedding feast, come with all hope as +bridegrooms to the bride. My son shall choose my lover, so prepare all +things in order--music, feasting, flowers.' (Then turned to where I +stood, and said aside: 'Forget not thou to make a jasmine crown.')</p> + +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="i6">"O Âtma mâta! wherefore was I blind?<br> +Did I not know how wise thou wert, how kind,<br> +How cold thy hand, how warm the heart behind?</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">"Fair, strong, and bold he stood, the little King; the noonday sun +above the child's bare head scarce cast a shadow on his small, bare +feet, standing so straight beside the water's edge, where, half afloat +upon the clear, still depths, a small round raft of jasmine-blossoms +lay ready to give the omen.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Heaped so high, so piled with little scented stars, that I--her +servant with the crown she had bespoke--stood wondering what need +there was of all. And round about the mirror-pool in rank sat Âtma's +lovers waiting the decree.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Till suddenly the baby raised his hand. (There was a loose gold +circlet on his wrist, which smote him on the breast as it fell back, +making him wince, so all too large it was.) But the child bit his +lip and took no heed, knowing his kingly part right royally; so, +parrot-wise, he lisped the ordered words: 'My mother Âtma hath no need +for love; since she hath mine. She hath no need, my lords, for you as +lovers, but she sends by me, as sister sends her brothers, that which +sure should heal the strife and make you brothers too.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"So at the last he stooped, and with a push sent the flower-raft +afloat upon the pool, dipping and dancing on the waves it made, so +that the loose, white blossoms of the pile floated to drift like stars +upon the depths, leaving what lay beneath them clear and cold.</p> + +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="i6">"O Âtma mâta! why was I not blind?<br> +Thy face, thy face was there in flowers enshrined!<br> +Thy cold dead face, with cold dead flowers entwined.</p> +<br> +<p style="text-indent:5%; letter-spacing:20pt">* * * * *</p> +<br> + +<p class="i6">"O world she left! to bring it peace not war.<br> +O world she left, forget not she was fair,<br> +So very fair. The jasmine in her hair<br> +And round her kind, wise face; about her throat<br> +The cold blue stones, and for her queenly crown<br> +The sunlight in the water--like the stars.</p> +<br> +<p class="i6">"O Âtma mâta! strike thy servant blind,<br> +He and his sons for ever, lest they find<br> +Thy face within the wreath their fingers bind."</p> + +<p style="text-indent:5%; letter-spacing:20pt">* * * * *</p> +</div> + + + + +<p class="normal">The old man's song ceased, but he went on without a pause. "The +<i>Huzoor</i> will hear that it is all about Âtma. Her name is there +always."</p> + +<p class="normal">He had finished stringing the flowers also, and now with a deft hand +set the fragile garland--strung like a daisy chain upon a dead woman's +hair and then tied to a circle--afloat upon the water, where it +drifted idly, each separate flower separate, and keeping its appointed +place.</p> + +<p class="normal">A crown of scented stars!</p> + +<p class="normal">I roused myself to answer. "Undoubtedly it is all about Âtma; but you +have not told me why you weave the crown?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is always woven, <i>Huzoor</i>," he replied. "Our family belongs to the +place, and as one son is always blind, he stays at home--since he +cannot earn money at other trades, <i>Huzoor</i>--and makes Mai Âtma's +crown as his fathers did."</p> + +<p class="normal">"One son is always blind?" I echoed curiously.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Always, <i>Huzoor</i>. It is ever so. One is blind in each generation, so +he makes Mai Âtma's crown."</p> + +<p class="normal"><i>He and his sons for ever!</i> a strange coincidence truly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Then no one has ever seen her face 'within the wreath their fingers +twine'?" I asked, quoting the words involuntarily and forgetting that +he could not understand them. He answered the first part of the +sentence.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How could that be, <i>Huzoor</i>, seeing we are always blind?"</p> + +<p class="normal">True. But if one was not blind? My thought was interrupted by Robbins' +voice from behind.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hope you haven't found it long, old chap; but the <i>baboo</i> really +knows a lot about Asoka. Fine old beggar he must have been. And then +he has got a chant about some female called Âtma who had a lot of +lovers, don't you know." Robbins pulled himself up hastily, and, to +cover his confusion, protested that it was just the sort of +unintelligible gibberish which interested me, and thereupon bade the +<i>baboo</i> give me a specimen.</p> + +<p class="normal">Before I could stop him, the brute had got well into the first line; +but even in my wrath I was relieved to find that it was indeed +absolutely unintelligible. New India evidently did not understand the +old. I came to this conclusion before I got my fingers, as gently as I +could, inside his rainbow-hued comforter and choked him off.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I cannot help it, Robbins," I said as I tendered the <i>baboo</i> five +rupees as hush-money. "If you knew all you would excuse me."</p> + +<p class="normal">Robbins gave me one of his most sympathetic looks and said he quite +understood.</p> + +<p class="normal">Did he? Did I? I asked myself that question over and over again, until +in the dead of the night I could ask it no longer. The desire for an +answer grew too strong.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was still night when I stood once more beside the water's edge. The +moon had paled the red ranks of the sentinel pillars, the dust and +heat and burden of the day was gone. All things were clear and flooded +with cool, quiet, passionless light. And on the water lay the crown of +starry flowers. It had drifted close to the edge, at the extreme end +of the pool, beside a square projection in the marble floor, whence +you could look clear into the depths. No doubt the place of +divination. I went over to it moved by an irresistible impulse, and, +kneeling down, thrust my hand into the cool water.</p> + +<p class="normal">Was it fancy, or did I feel a cold, soft hand in mine? Was it a +passing dizziness, or did a white, scented vapour close round me like +a cloud, hiding all things save the water framed in that crown of +jasmine?</p> + +<p class="normal"><i>Âtma! Mai Âtma!!</i></p> + +<br> +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:20pt">* * * * *</p> +<br> + +<p class="normal">There was no need so far as I am concerned for the appeal--</p> + +<p class="center" style="font-size:90%">"Forget not she was fair."</p> + + +<p class="continue">I have never forgotten it, though it is years since I saw, or fancied +I saw, her face in the water.</p> + +<p class="normal">But I have forgotten other things. Indeed, I forgot them so speedily +that I saw poor old Robbins was quite puzzled and hurt in his +feelings. So, before my wedding tour came to an end, I thought it +kinder to give him something definite as an excuse for my +cheerfulness. I told him, therefore, that I had fallen in love with +some one else.</p> + +<p class="normal">He gave a low whistle, said, "By Jove!" then added heartily, "Upon my +soul, old chap, I believe it's the wisest thing you can do."</p> + +<p class="normal">Perhaps it was. But I am not yet married. I am waiting for a woman who +does not want a lover.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_fog" href="#div1Ref_fog">IN A FOG</a></h2> +<br> + +<p class="normal">A great flock of fleecy white clouds were browsing up the steep +hillside like sheep, and hiding part of the great map of India which +lay spread out five thousand feet below one of the isolated peaks +which rise, in sheer masses of granite, from the dusty deserts of +Rajputana.</p> + +<p class="normal">Even to their dustiness, however, had come a faint tinting of green, +since the seasonal rains had begun. For the moment, nevertheless, the +incessant deluge had ceased, giving place to one of those brilliantly +fine monsoon days--fine with the fineness of gentian skies, and +snowdrift clouds, which remind Indian exiles of the cold, crisp North.</p> + +<p class="normal">But already these same clouds were losing their lightness and +beginning to sink earthwards; sure sign that the break in the rains +was at an end. Still here, in the little station beside the lake, +which looks as if the least tilt would make it brim over and send it +rolling like quicksilver to the sun-dry plains below, the sky was all +the clearer because of the steady increase of those fleecy flocks +among the glens and ravines which spread outwards, downwards, +ray-like, star-shaped, from the summit.</p> + +<p class="normal">The increase was so steady that, after a time, the flocks coalesced, +and the likeness passed into that of a rolling sea, through whose +waves the knolls and peaks rose like islands; until the whole scene, +lake and all, showed as a clustered coral reef shows in the Pacific +Ocean--still, dream-like, peaceful utterly.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was no peace, however, on the face of the Englishman in undress +uniform who was sitting at an office table in the verandah of a +thatched bungalow, which, fenced in perfunctorily from a sheer +precipice on three sides by a frail trellis of bamboo solidified by +morning glories, was perched above the now unseen levels below.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If I could get reliable information," he muttered irritably, "I could +be prepared. But I can hear nothing of the relief columns, and it is +quite impossible for me to predicate the movements of the mutineers; +yet without this it is difficult to know how to receive them."</p> + +<p class="normal">His voice rose as he went on, for a yawn and a stir from a +lounge-chair set in the shade, told him he had a listener.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not the laste bit in loife, me dear bhoy," came with the yawn. "Sure +we've got to kill them somehow."</p> + +<p class="normal">The first speaker looked up angrily from the map he was studying.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Perhaps if I were only directly responsible for fifteen +convalescents, as you are, Tiernay, I should be content to--to be in a +fog. But I am the Brigade Major, and in the absence on duty of the +commanding officer, and, I regret to say, all but a mere handful of +native troops, I am responsible for the safety of a hundred and +thirty-five helpless women and children--their lives and deaths--"</p> + +<p class="normal">He was interrupted by the mixed sound of a laugh and the finishing of +some brandy and water over which Dr. Tiernay had evidently been +snoozing.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Divvle a bit. Loife and death's my business from wan year's end to +the other. There's responsibility for yez. And I kill as many as I +cure, as all we pill-boxes do. Sure we haven't a fair chance, for a +man keeps well without a doctor. It's when he thinks of dyin' he comes +to us--an' nine toimes out of ten we can't help him. For talk of bein' +in a fog! Be jabers! it's nothing to the British Pharmacopœia. When +I write a prescription I always put D.V., weather permitting, at the +tail of it."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Brigade Major looked at the dishevelled, lazy figure, so different +from his own, distastefully.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, I prefer a clearer conception of my line of treatment. Now if +this portion of the rebels, which, there seems little doubt, are +making for us here"--his finger followed a red line he had marked, +"elect to proceed--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Elect, is it?" interrupted the doctor. "Sure they won't elect to do +anything. It will come to them widout their knowing how, like fayver +or catarrh. An' it's no manner of use beginning to physic a patient +till ye know what disease fancies him. So lave off wid worrying, me +dear bhoy, and just get out the salts and senna--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Salts and senna!" echoed the Brigade Major, angrily. "Really, +Tiernay, considering you are the only other man in the place--for I +don't count your miserable convalescents, of course, and my handful of +natives is more an anxiety than a help--I do think you might talk +sense."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dr. Tiernay rose, yawned, and walked over to the office table, a tall, +lank figure with a reckless, whimsical face, alert now to the +uttermost.</p> + +<p class="normal">"An' isn't it sinse? Salts and senna is what's generally wanted to +begin with. Well, I've collected every lethal weapon I can lay hands +on, including the dintistry case and the horse-pistols with which me +grand-uncle, Macturk of Turksville, shot his wife's brother; so me +salts and senna's ready. And, by the Lord, I'll exhibit it too whin +the patient comes along--trust Micky Tiernay for that. But till he +does"--here his face took a sudden, almost serious gravity--"ah, just +quit cultivating omniscience, and lave the fog alone. Sure only the +divvle himself could say what the blackguards will do."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But Hoshyari Mul, the banker, thinks--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is it that fat, oily brute? Oh, don't belave him. Don't belave what +anybody says. They don't know--not even what they'll be at themselves +if the mutineers <i>do</i> come. There's only wan thing certain--there's +but wan straight road from Nusseerabad up the hill to us. That's the +tail end of it yonder through the break in the mist. Oh, I've been +kaping an eye on it, I tell yez, even in my sleep. Well, if they come, +they'll come that way."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But Koomar the priest--"</p> + +<p class="normal">Dr. Tiernay looked across the placid, still sunbright levels of the +little lake, at the wonderful Jain temples which made this hilltop one +of the holiest spots in all India, and shook his head.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't trust him either, for all his white robes and his piety. He +means well; but he's more in a fog than we are, for we know that we +don't want the mutineers to come, and he isn't sure. How can he be? +I'd just throuble ye to imagine his mental position--if ye can."</p> + +<p class="normal">So saying, he took up his battered helmet, which looked as if some one +had been playing football with it, and strolled over to the hospital. +It was perched on another knoll close by, yet the mist now lay almost +level between it and him; for the curved waves had given place, like +the fleecy flocks, to a new formation of fog. This, far as the eye +could see, was a flat plain of cotton-wool, white, luminous, on which +the knolls, the temples, the glittering lake, showed like jewels.</p> + +<p class="normal">He dipped into the cotton-wool as it lay soft in the hollow, and out +of it again ere entering the hospital verandah, where a man in the +loose uniform of a dresser rose from his task of polishing a pair of +horse-pistols and saluted; a trifle unsteadily, for he, though the +best of the bunch of convalescents, was somewhat of a cripple. Had he +not been so, he would not have been left behind when every man who +could hold a rifle tramped down the hill to do the work that had to be +done in the plains, if not only Englishwomen, but England herself was +to be saved.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Parade will be a bit short to-day, sir," he said, with cheerful +regret, "for Corporal Flanagan 'e 'ave 'ad to 'ave a hemetic, sir, and +the fly-blister on Private MacTartan's chest is has big has a +hostrich's hegg."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dear, dee-ar," commented the doctor in long-drawn sympathy, +as he passed into where a dozen or more of men in grey flannel +dressing-gowns were lounging about in their cots or out of them. They +were an unshaven, haggard-looking lot, though one or two were +beginning to show that air of alertness which tells that soul and body +are coming back to the bustle of life.</p> + +<p class="normal">One or two, again, lay cuddled into their pallets with that other +hospital expression--impatient patience.</p> + +<p class="normal">Most, however, were between these two extremes, and one of them asked +eagerly: "Any news of the brutes to-day, sir? It would be just my luck +when I'm down with another bad turn."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Bad turn go to blazes," retorted Dr. Tiernay, with a reassuring +smile. "News of the varmint would have more therapeutic power than +every drug I possess, an' a galvanic batthery wouldn't be in it wid +the first shot. Faix even if I'd killed ye, ye'd do old Lazarus to +spite me. Oh, Flanagan, there ye are. A bit white about the gills, me +bhoy, but it's a foine thing to be in light inarching order. An' as +for you, MacTartan, sure you've the illigantest protective pad evver a +man wore above his heart. Is there any more of you would like wan?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Yet as he made merry, the doctor's eye had wandered to where the tail +end of the upward road had shown more than once for a second, between +a rift in the wet blanket; for that only connection between mutiny and +helplessness climbed the hill perilously along a steep funnel-shaped +ravine, up which the draught, caused by the cool air above the hot air +below, swept like a chimney driving the fog before it.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was nothing to be seen, however, not even a rift or break; so he +went on to dress the leg of a cripple on crutches. He was in the +middle of bandaging it when an excited voice called him by name from +the verandah, and he rushed out, bandage and all, so that his patient +remained attached to him by a fluttering ribbon of linen.</p> + +<p class="normal">He found the Brigade Major on his pony. There was news at last. The +mutineers were coming, but not by the road. They had been seen on the +old footpath to the north--they evidently meant to steal a march in +the rear.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What made ye come and tell?" asked the doctor suddenly in Hindustani +to the naked figure which had brought the news. It was that of a Jain +ascetic with a muslin cloth bound about his mouth, so as to prevent +the destruction even of the unseen life around him.</p> + +<p class="normal">The set brown sanctity of his face wavered. "They come to kill--and I +kill nothing."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dr. Tiernay turned on his heel and faced the man on crutches (who, +after vainly begging to be told what was happening, had come crawling +on all-fours like a dog to the verandah), and began as it were to haul +him in by rolling up the bandage. "Who the divvle tould ye to move, +Tompkins?" he said; "come in at wanst and let me finish me job."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But, doctor," protested the Brigade Major.</p> + +<p class="normal">The doctor swung round again at the appeal.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't believe his saintship. Don't, for God's sake. If it's killing +he objects to, sure isn't he helping us to kill them? That sort of +thing doesn't work. See you--he says there are five hundred of them. +Sainted Cecilia! if that's so, an' they mean to come and kill us, why +come up the back stairs?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"But he says,--and Koomar also, and even Hoshiari Mul--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, I'd rather trust the fat little banker if it comes to +trustin'," interrupted the doctor, "for, see you, I owe him money, and +if I'm killed he won't get it. But if I were you I'd trust none of +them. Even Hoshiar, compound interest at a hundred and fifty per cent. +to boot, does not know what he'll be at, so take my advice and sit +tight where ye are."</p> + +<p class="normal">The Brigade Major did, very tight and square on his pony.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm sorry you don't agree with me, Dr. Tiernay," he said stiffly, +"and, of course, being in independent medical charge of this +convalescent depot, you can remain behind if you choose. Indeed I +think it would, in a way, be wiser, since your fellows would be of +little use."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dr. Tiernay looked round on the contingent of crippledom which had +crowded and crawled to the verandah to listen. "Faix," he said, "their +hearts are whole, anyhow, an' that's half the battle. But what's your +plan?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I have thought out this eventuality before, and am certain that our +defence must be at the defile--you know--about four miles from here. I +shall take every soul I can--it's better to give every one something +to do."</p> + +<p class="normal">The doctor nodded. "That's sound, anyhow. Satan finds--then I'll stay +here."</p> + +<p class="normal">"If--I fail--you will do what you can for the women and children--I +shan't give the alarm now; so--so you might tell my wife by-and-by--if +necessary."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mike Tiernay walked back and patted the pony's neck.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'll tell her. And ye may be right--ye can't tell--it's just a fog. +Anyhow, the cripples will do what they can for the ladies and the +babies--though wanst those murderin' villains set foot on the summit, +it's all up--so--so--I'll keep an eye on the road for ye. Well, +good-by, me dear bhoy, and good luck to ye."</p> + +<p class="normal">The sun, that was still shining brightly above the mists, shone on the +men's clasped hands for a moment.</p> + +<p class="normal">After that, Dr. Tiernay finished Tompkins' leg.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was rather a long job, as it had to be done all over again. Then +there were minor hurts to arms and hands, so that an hour must have +passed before the doctor, wiping his hands with the curiously minute +care of the surgeon who knows what risks he runs, suddenly dropped the +towel and said--</p> + +<p class="normal">"Sainted Sister Anne! they're coming."</p> + +<p class="normal">Yes. The rift for which he had been watching with the carelessness +which comes with custom, had showed that tail end of the road for a +moment, and showed something on it--a trail of men and horses, a +flashing of bayonets and spear-points.</p> + +<p class="normal">Ten minutes after the man on crutches was the only one left in the +hospital, and he was sitting on the edge of his cot sobbing like a +child disappointed of his holiday; but Mike Tiernay had left him the +horse-pistols by way of consolation, with instructions to hold the +fort as long as he could, and prevent the damned rascals from touching +even the drugs.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ye'll have the best of it after all, I tell ye," had been the +doctor's farewell, "for sure ye'll be sitting at your ease shootin' +straight long after we've been silenced; and a last shot is always a +last shot." He was wondering what his would be as he led his company +of cripples through the hollow of mist which lay between the hospital +and the head of that road whose tail had shown the upward gleam of +bayonets.</p> + +<p class="normal">As yet, however, everything was peaceful. The lake, the temples, the +isolated houses set on their knolls, even the lower cluster of the +bazaar were all bathed in sunshine, with the curious, translucent +brilliance which only Indian sunshine can give. Only between them, +clinging to every hollow, lay the thick, luminous white fog.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mike Tiernay took off his helmet, wiped his forehead, and looked +around.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's no good in life making the poor things anxious," he muttered to +himself, "an' if we can keep the divvles at bay <i>he</i> will be back to +tell his own story. But I'll just give a look round to hearten them +up; there's plenty of time, for I can catch up the cripples in a +jiffy." So, bidding his men march slowly down the road (saving +themselves as much as possible, since their work would be cut out for +them afterwards) until he rejoined them, he set off with swinging +strides to the semi-fortified houses, in which, more for the name of +safety than for the hope of it, the helpless women and children had +been gathered during the last few days.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Any news, doctor?" asked the Brigade Major's wife, coming out to meet +him, her six months' baby in her arms. "Dick isn't back from office +yet, and it's such weary work, waiting, waiting."</p> + +<p class="normal">Dr. Tiernay bent rather abruptly to look at the fretful child, which +was teething badly. One or two other women, pale-faced, anxious, their +little ones clinging round them, had gathered to listen, and he spoke +as it were to all.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, it can't be long now, any more than it can't be long before +Dick comes back, or before that troublesome eye-tooth comes through. +If all goes well, me dear madam, all the worry will be over by +tomorrow."</p> + +<p class="normal">"And if it isn't you will come with your lancet, won't you?" asked the +mother, pleadingly.</p> + +<p class="normal">Dr. Tiernay frowned portentously. "It's against me principles, +madam--but I'll use--well, some kind of lethal weapon, I promise you. +An' tell your husband, when ye see him, that my cripples did as well +as could be expected, considering the fog."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Did as well?" she asked. "What have they done?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Gone for their first walk down the road," he replied, with a cheerful +laugh, "an' I must be affther them to stop them from overtiring +themselves. So good-by. Dick'll maybe bring good news."</p> + +<p class="normal">"How cheerful he is always," said one pale-faced mother to another. "I +always feel safer when I've seen him; and, you know, he can't really +think there is any immediate danger or he wouldn't have talked of +coming to lance the baby's gums, would he?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Whatever Dr. Tiernay might have <i>thought</i>, he was by this time +beginning to realise that in the fog it was impossible to <i>know</i> +anything--even the positions of his own cripples. "Are ye all there, +wid as many legs an' arms as ye have whole?" he called, after he had +given the order for them to fall in; "for, by the Lord that made me, I +must take ye on trust; ye might be anybody." He paused; his eyes lit +up suddenly; he gave a wild hooroosh.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I have it, men; let's play the fog on the divvies, an' be damned to +them. They can't see us, so let's take them in flank at the zig-zag. +Smith, out wid yur engineer's eye an' tell me what's the length of the +zig-zag--wan zig of it, I mane."</p> + +<p class="normal">Smith, in the fog, thought a moment or two. "Close on a mile, sir, +more or less, and there's four of them."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Say three-quarters, and we are fifteen; no, it's fourteen, for we had +to leave poor Tompkins wid his crutches an' the horse-pistols. +Tompkins absent."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Beg pardin', sir," came a voice from the fog; "Tompkins present. Come +a all-fours down the short cut quite easy."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Fifteen," corrected the doctor, calmly, "fifteen into twelve hundred +yards. Faix, it'll have to be open order."--He paused for an odd catch +in his breath, something between a laugh and a sob. "See here, ye +gomerauns--English, Irish, Scotch, whatever ye are--that's our game. +We're not fifteen; we're fifteen hundred."</p> + +<p class="normal">The cripples out of the fog broke into a faint cheer.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You've got it, Mick Tiernay!" they assented wildly. "You've got it, +doctor dear! The fog's our game."</p> + +<p class="normal">"We're fifteen hundred strong, an' we're each of us a hundred men an' +two officers," called the doctor back. "Now, d'ye understand, men? +open order it is--wan hundred yards or thereabouts, at the top +zig-zag, and chargin' down on the divvies in flank--an' the gift of +tongues--an' Donnybrook Fair--Hooroosh, Pat! come on, lads."</p> + +<p class="normal">The next moment, hirpling, hobbling, unseen even of each other until +sometimes a jostle would bring a low-toned witticism--"Now, then, +Cap'n, keep your regiment orf mine, will ye?" or, "I'll throuble you, +sorr, to respect me formation!"--the men were making their way, fast +as crippledom would let them, towards their forlorn hope. And despite +the witticisms, their haggard lean faces, hidden, like all else, in +the fog, were stern and strained. Men's faces are so, when each man +has to find place in his body for a hundred souls.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Quiet's the word. Let them come on almost to the turn," was the +doctor's last injunction as he posted his men; the strongest at the +narrowest end of the zig-zag because they would the soonest come upon +the enemy, and so on in varying gradations of convalescence, till the +line of the supposed battalion stopped at the widest end with +Tompkins, who was given as much ammunition as they could spare, and +told to fire freely, regardlessly.</p> + +<p class="normal">The doctor himself, with MacTartan close beside him ("so as," he said, +"to increase the illushion"), were at the extreme angle. The unseen +road lay below them, not fifty yards off, and below that again, the +doctor knew, was an almost precipitous grass slope down to the next +zig.</p> + +<p class="normal">"We must start them on that short cut, if we can," he said to his +supporter, "an' if we do, they'll rowl and rowl and rowl to perdition, +please the Lord!" So they waited, the jest forgotten in earnest.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then suddenly through the fog came a jingle.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Tenshion, B Company," whispered the man who had had a bad turn (his +name was Brown) to himself, and steadied his shaking hands on his +musket as he listened. Another jingle. A sound of voices first; then, +as suddenly as the jingle had come, came a thud of many feet.</p> + +<p class="normal"><i>Thud, thud, thud</i>.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then all along the hillside, all along that three-quarters of a mile +or more, a volley--not of rifles, but orders--orders familiar to those +below, and suggestive of colonels and majors, regiments and wings, and +companies. Finally, at the narrowest end, a call to fire and charge; a +reckless volley into the fog, and then two reckless figures flinging +themselves into the uttermost void, God knows how, God knows where, +save that it was downwards on that climbing foe.</p> + +<p class="normal">MacTartan first; remembering his Highland corries and half bursting +his lungs in his effort to give the Highland yell of a whole regiment. +Yet beneath the grim joke a grimmer earnest lay, as in the fog he and +his bayonet found something.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hech, now! Is that you?" he said grimly, and the something was a man +no more!</p> + +<p class="normal">"Steady, men. Follow me!" shouted Dr. Tiernay. Once more the mist +produced something, and two men in deadly earnest hacked at each other +with swords.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Go on, brothers! run! they are behind us! run! Go back, brothers! +they are ahead!" came the cry. And above it rose those orders. From +close at hand a dropping fire; and from the far end--Tompkins' end-- +quite a respectable volley.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come on! come on! and let them have the bayonet!" shouted the doctor +again; and with the shout one or two more men grew to sight from the +mist upon one side of the climbing road. But the men who had been on +the road first were disappearing into the fog on the other side; +disappearing down the grass slope to the next zag. Only at the turn +where the doctor and MacTartan fought side by side, the difficulty of +escape made resistance fierce from a knot of troopers, till, with a +curse, MacTartan caught one horse by the bridle, and deliberately +backed it over the edge; but not before, in his desperate effort to be +strong as he once had been, he had stumbled and fallen before the +flash of a sabre that passed in mad flight downwards. "Gorsh me, I've +spoilt myself," he murmured sadly, as he rose with difficulty.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What is it, man? Are you wounded?" cried the doctor, rushing up.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Bruk me blister, sir," replied MacTartan, stolidly, reaching for his +bayonet and going on.</p> + +<p class="normal">That upper zig-zag was clear now; but below in the fog lay another, +and another, and another, where the fugitives might be caught. So the +battalion charged again and again, while Tompkins coming down quite +easily, "a all-fours," fired volleys steadily.</p> + +<p class="normal">The jest and the earnest of it, what pen can tell?</p> + +<p class="normal">Till through the fog rang a faint hurrah. The last of the zig-zags had +blindly been reached, and neither far nor near upon the hillside down +which the battalion had charged in open order, was foe--not to be +seen, but felt! The uttermost void was void indeed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"We've got no dooleys, men," said Dr. Tiernay, wiping his forehead +once more, "so the wounded must crawl back to hospital as best they +can."</p> + +<p class="normal">So they crawled. All but Tompkins; the doctor insisted upon carrying +him pick-a-back, on the ground that he, the doctor, was the only whole +man in the battalion, and was bound to do double work.</p> + +<p class="normal">And the next morning, when he went his rounds, he stood for a minute +or two beside a fretful baby, and then took out his lancet.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's against me principles, me dear madam," he said, with a shrug of +his shoulders; "for there's a toime for everything, and everything in +its toime; and no one, not even a tooth, knows what it would be at +till that toime comes. But as I said the throuble would be over, and +the rest of it is;--why, I'll keep my word!"</p> + +<p class="normal">And it was over; for a message saying he was close on the heels of his +messenger came from the general in command of relief.</p> + +<p class="normal">The fog had lifted by this time, lifted for steady rain; so the +English troops coming up found the foes more easily than the battalion +had done. But the foes were dead. Those random shots, those reckless +charges from nothingness to nothingness had done some work.</p> + +<p class="normal">And part of it was on the naked body of a Jain ascetic, with a bit of +muslin swathed about his mouth, lest, inadvertently, he should bring +death to the smallest of God's creatures.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_gold" href="#div1Ref_gold">GOLD, FRANKINCENSE, AND +MYRRH</a></h2> +<br> + +<p class="normal">"Oh! Mummy," said the Boy, as his mother slipped a sort of nightgown +over his trim little khaki uniform, "I think it'sh shkittles!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Boy's invariable dissent--picked up about the barracks of an Indian +cantonment--was applied in this instance both to the angelic robe +represented by the nightgown, and the angelic part the child was to +play in it.</p> + +<p class="normal">For it was Christmas Eve, and the vague desire for peace and goodwill +which, even in these latter days, comes with Christmas-tide, had made +the English aliens in the station devise a Tree for those still +greater aliens--the Boer prisoners--who lived among them in the +strange spider's web of barbed wire, which to the casual eye seemed so +inefficient a prison for enemies who had defied capture so long, so +bravely.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was Boy's mother who had started the idea. She was one of those +women, lovable utterly, not always reasonable, who find solace in +dramatising their own sorrows. So when, two years before, her husband, +commanding a native cavalry regiment still quartered in the station, +had been ordered to Africa on Staff duty, she had remained on in the +big house, sharing it with a friend, and continuing religiously to +care for all things for which her absent soldier had cared--even for +the regiment which was still so proud of its Colonel at the front.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was a heartrending solace, indeed, to see the native officers and +men, when they inquired for the latest news, salute Boy as solemnly as +they would have saluted his father; and it pleased her to perceive +that the only regard these warriors had for <i>her</i> was as guardian of +their Sahib's honour and of his only son; for the wellbeing of which +things they were fiercely jealous.</p> + +<p class="normal">To this woman, militant to the heart's core yet sentimentally pitiful, +it had seemed appropriate that Boy--son of the only fighting father in +the station--should play the part of the "<i>Christ-kind</i>," the Bringer +of good gifts at the Christmas-tree. There was no geographical or +ethnological reason why this German custom should obtain among the +Boers, but Boy's mother had recollections of school-days abroad, and +thought that her little son, with his aureole of red hair and grave +baby face, so like the absent hero, would look sweet in the part.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It isn't skittles at all, Boy," she said softly. "Remember what I +told you about loving your enemies."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'd wather fight 'em, like Daddy," replied Boy, drawing from its +scabbard the miniature sword of strict regimental pattern which--it +being a new toy--he had refused to lay aside even for angelic robings.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But it is Christmas," persisted his mother. "Remember what I told you +about it--about the angels, and the peace, and goodwill."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I shink Chrishmus shkittles, too."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Quite right, youngster! It <i>is</i> skittles in India," put in a tall +man, who, farther down the verandah, was watching a woman's fingers +busy themselves over church decorations.</p> + +<p class="normal">His rather reckless expression changed as, stooping to select a +brilliant branch of scarlet-fingered poinsettia from the confused heap +of flowers and greenery at their feet, he handed it to his companion, +and she looked up to thank him with her eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">Boy's mother, who had glanced towards them at the interrupting voice, +paused over the angelic robe, uneasily silent.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I wish I had something white, beside the roses," remarked the +cross-maker a trifle hurriedly. "They don't look a bit Christmassy."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Lilies?" suggested the man.</p> + +<p class="normal">She shook her head. "Lilies don't suit the climate; there aren't +any--<i>here</i>."</p> + +<p class="normal">He stooped and spoke lower. "Yes! it's a God-forsaken spot all +round--for <i>you</i>. But, look here! I saw a <i>dhatura</i> actually in +blossom to-day--close to my bungalow. It's not unlike a lily--as +white, anyhow--and sweeter. They use it in their temples--so why not +in church? It doesn't do to be too particular--when you want +anything."</p> + +<p class="normal">She shook her head again. "It's poisonous--besides, it doesn't do--to +leave the beaten path."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Try!"</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a pause; for the undercurrent, which had seemed to sweep +each trivial word to another meaning, seemed suddenly to sweep this +man and woman within touch--dangerous touch--of each other.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What <i>are</i> you two talking about?" asked Boy's mother, coming towards +them. "What a lovely cross, Muriel! And why, please, should Christmas +in India be skittles, Colonel Gould?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He laughed. "How stern you look! I wish I could get that righteous +indignation up for orderly room. I need it!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"My husband never found the regiment difficult to manage," interrupted +the wife of its absent commander jealously.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Nor do I," retorted its present head, "but--" he paused, not caring +to explain that he, an outsider sent but lately to drill a corps back +to the discipline it had lost after her husband's departure, had +naturally a very different task.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hullo, Boy!" he said, to change the subject, "that is a jolly little +sword! Who gave it you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hirabul Khan gaved it me," replied the child. "When I'm Colonel, +he'sh going to be my risshildar, 'cos you shee he was my Daddy's +orderly first, an' then Daddy made him--oh, lotsh of fings."</p> + +<p class="normal">"He'll have to look out if he doesn't want to lose some things," said +Colonel Gould, sharply; then answering a vexed look of Boy's mother, +continued: "He was a <i>protégé</i> of your husband's, I know--but he +really has wind in his head. For his own sake it must be got out. I +put him under arrest to-day, and told him squarely I'd have to block +his promotion."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What had he done?" She spoke quite fiercely.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Cheek, as usual. It was over that escape from the camp. Haven't you +heard? Viljeon, that cantankerous brute who gives so much trouble, +managed to get out again last night. I wish it had been any one +else--for he's half mad and dangerous. I'm glad the General has +ordered the search-party to shoot at sight if he offers resistance."</p> + +<p class="normal">Boy, in his white robe, his toy sword in his hand still, nodded his +red aureole sagely.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The Tommies down at the camp told <i>me</i>. He'sh just an awful brute, +Vile John is. He is goin' to kill all the little English children he +meets, 'cos--'cos they killed his: but that's a damned lie."</p> + +<p class="normal">The calm deliberation of the last was so evidently imitative that +Boy's mother smiled, despite a sudden pain at her heart.</p> + +<p class="normal">"They died, dear, and so you must be very sorry for him. Think how sad +I should be if--" The thought produced a sudden caress, a sudden +glisten in her grey eyes. "Now, Boy of mine, let me take that thing +off. Then you must go and lie down and sleep, for you'll have to keep +wide awake half the night."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Take care of my shword, Mummy, please!" said Boy, superbly, as, in +unrobing, he shifted it from one hand to the other; "it's most +dweadful sharp!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"By George, it is," remarked Colonel Gould; "a trifle too sharp for +safety."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is it?" said Boy's mother, anxiously. "Hirabul ought not--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It wasn't Hira," interrupted Boy. "It was Kunder sharped it, so as I +could kill Vile John if I met him, like as my Daddy done over in +Africa. Didn't you, Kunder?"</p> + +<p class="normal">A figure squatting in a far corner rose and salaamed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The <i>Huzoor</i> speaks truth."</p> + +<p class="normal">The speaker was an old man, slender, upright, unusually dark-skinned; +this latter fact made his bare limbs look curiously youthful and +lissom.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Done it uncommonly well, too," assented Colonel Gould, feeling the +edge. "Where did you learn the trick?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Your slave was once sword-sharpener by trade," was the submissive +reply.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Kunder'sh an awful clever chap," said Boy, loquaciously. "He can +make--oh! all sorts of fings as deads people--bows and stwangles, you +know--can't you, Kunder?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The man salaamed, with a watchful look at his other hearers.</p> + +<p class="normal">"And," continued Boy, in vicarious boasting, "he can do all sorts of +dweadful fings, too! He can steal people's purses when they'se +sleepin', an' make dicky-birds tumble off bwanches, an' little boys +like me wake never no more--can't you, Kunder?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Submissiveness grew crafty. "This slave has certainly told such tales +to the children-people."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Looks scoundrel enough," remarked Colonel Gould, carelessly. "Where +did you pick him up?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh! he isn't <i>my</i> servant," replied Boy's mother. "He is Muriel's. I +can't think why she keeps him."</p> + +<p class="normal">The cross-maker rose and held her work at arm's length. "Does any one +really know why they do anything?" she asked. "Perhaps, as you say, he +will steal my jewels some day--or murder me. But, as Boy says, he's +awful clever, and one must be amused! Now I must go and put this up. +Will you drive me to the church, Colonel Gould?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Better come in the victoria with me," said Boy's mother, hastily; "it +is going to rain." This other woman, this childless wife with an +unspeakable husband, must be guarded from herself.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't think so," put in the Colonel, firmly. "Kunder! call my +dogcart, and we can go round by my bungalow and pick the <i>dhatura</i>."</p> + +<p class="normal">Kunder, passing on his errand, looked up curiously at the last word.</p> + +<p class="normal">Colonel Gould gave back the look. "Queer customer! Shouldn't wonder if +he's a Thug--they use <i>dhatura</i> poison to stupefy their victims, you +know."</p> + +<p class="normal">He spoke carelessly as they stood looking out at the bare patch of +parched ground called by courtesy a garden. The lowering sky, of an +even purplish grey, was so dark that the level lines of dust-laden +<i>sirus</i> trees along the road showed light against it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I wish some one would stupefy me," said Muriel, with a sudden passion +in her voice; to cover which she went on recklessly: "How I hate +Christmas in India!--the sham of it--sham decorations--sham church, +for it isn't real! The reality is outside among the poor folk in the +fields and the towns, to whom Christmas is a day when <i>we</i> guzzle and +<i>they</i> pay the piper!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"My dear Muriel!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's true! Think of it! Peace and goodwill? Isn't the whole station +at daggers-drawing because one lady said another wasn't the +best-dressed woman in India? Isn't your regiment, Colonel, ready to +murder you? Then that camp, right in the middle of us Christians, with +how many prisoners eating their hearts out? And Vile John--as Boy has +been taught to call him--half mad in thinking of his children who have +died. Oh, I know it is all inevitable--but think, just think of him +wandering about this Christmas Eve, liable to be shot at sight. +There's a Santa Claus for you!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Her voice had risen, her fingers had closed tremblingly on the sprig +of poinsettia she had fastened in her breast. It showed against the +white laces of her dress like a clutching scarlet hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">Colonel Gould shrugged his shoulders uneasily. "Don't forget Kunder in +the picture of peace and goodwill!--Kunder with his 'fings as kills'; +for the matter of that don't forget <i>you</i> and <i>me</i>, and the rest of +us! The Decalogue is in danger on Christmas Eve as always--perhaps +more so."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't believe it," exclaimed Boy's mother in sudden pitiful +emotion. "Don't believe him, Muriel! Wait and see! Why, even that +storm brewing"--as she spoke a shivering seam of lightning shot +slanting across the purple pall behind the dusty trees--"only means +the Christmas rains. How welcome they will be after this endless +drought! They will perhaps save millions of lives--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"A doubtful message of peace," put in the Colonel, drily. "But hadn't +we better start? or we shan't have time for the <i>dhatura</i>."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You haven't time," said Boy's mother, sharply. "You must be back by +eight, Muriel, for we have to be at the camp by nine. Ayah will bring +Boy down ready dressed when we want him--so please don't be late."</p> + +<p class="normal">This thing which she saw looming as plainly as she saw that storm in +the sky, should not be if she could help it. They were too good, both +the man and the woman, for that sort of ruin.</p> + +<p class="normal">She shivered as she watched the dogcart drive off. Truly +there were storms ahead! And that thought of Viljeon--childless, +half-distraught--wandering about, liable to be shot like a wild beast, +made her fear for what might happen ere Christmas dawned.</p> + +<p class="normal">The verandah darkened silently after she left it. Every now and again +a puff of wind rattled the dry pods of the <i>sirus</i> trees, making them +give out a faint crackle like that of a scaled viper coiled watchfully +in a corner.</p> + +<p class="normal">Kunder, in <i>his</i> corner, sate up keenly as a snake does. There was a +louder crackle of a stealthy footstep.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is it well?" came a stealthy voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If Fate wills," replied Kunder, sinking back again to sloth.</p> + +<p class="normal">A stealthy hand reached out a tiny paper packet wound with unspun +silk.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The sleep-giver--from the Master--it is fresh and good."</p> + +<p class="normal">"There is no need for sleep-giving," replied Kunder, passively. +"The <i>mem</i> is drunk with the love-philtre women crave. I know their +ways"--he gave a little soft laugh. "She will not return to-night. So, +at dawn, I and the jewels will be--with the Master--if Fate so wills."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why should She <i>not</i> will?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Kunder laughed again. "Who knows what Fate <i>may</i> will?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He looked out, when the stealthy footstep had gone, at the dusty trees +that were growing ghostly in the twilight, and told himself again that +none knew. Had <i>he</i> known when, as a lad, he fought against the +Sahibs, that one day the death of a Sahib's five-year-old son would be +to him as the death of his own child? Had <i>he</i> known when that +nursling's red-gold curls--so like Boy's curls--lay confidingly on his +breast, that one day he would be thief--perhaps murderer?</p> + +<p class="normal">No! it was as Fate willed. He was, as ever, in Her hands to-night.</p> + +<p class="normal">Another footstep! not stealthy this time, but hurried even in its +measured military rhythm.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was Hirabul Khan, the disgraced native officer, seeking an appeal +to Colonel Gould before the limitations of an open arrest made it +necessary for him to return to his quarters.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yea, he was here!" replied Kunder, cynically. "He is ever here--after +the <i>mem!</i> Where hides the doe thither comes the buck!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Hirabul twirled his moustache fiercely. "Keep thy tongue off thy +betters, scum of the bazaars, or I break thy every bone. I give thee +womenkind in general--but <i>this</i> one is different. Whither hath he +gone? for I must see him."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No need," retorted Kunder, spitefully. "Thy pottage is cooked +already. He told the <i>mem</i> so but now. 'No promotion,' said he--I know +their speech. And she--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Base-born!--and she?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"She laughed, as I do--scum of the bazaars! Ha, ha!" A devilish +malignity had seized on him; he chuckled even while Hirabul shook him +like a rat.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Liar! Cur! Whither hath he gone?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"To the church--with the <i>mem!</i> Thou wilt see! 'No promotion,' said +he; and she--"</p> + +<p class="normal">With a curse Hirabul flung the chuckler from him, and strode away into +the growing darkness.</p> +<br> + +<p class="normal">The church stood--after the manner of Indian churches--in a garden, +and on the wide sweep of gravel round it carriages were awaiting the +owners, who were busy within. The Colonel's dogcart was among them. So +he was there, sure enough.</p> + +<p class="normal">Hirabul Khan, hesitating at the open door he dared not enter, could +see straight along the aisle to the altar; could see the cross of +poinsettia and white roses upon the latter, the text above it--</p> + +<p class="center">"<span class="sc">Unto us a Child is Born</span>."</p> + + +<p class="continue">Unmeaning as it all was to him, he stood looking at it dreamily, until +suddenly from the unseen transept the Christmas hymn began, and those +of the decorators who were not remaining for choir practice came +trooping down the aisle. Then he retreated hastily to where the +Colonel's dogcart stood, that being his best chance of the interview +which, if humble apology might avail, would mean much to his pride.</p> + +<p class="normal">So he waited, watching with uncomprehending eyes, listening with +uncomprehensive ears--</p> + +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="t5">"Oh! come all ye faithful,<br> +Joyful and triumphant,</p> +<p class="t0">Oh! come ye, oh! come ye to Bethlehem."</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">Suddenly, on those distant voices, the sound of nearer ones became +audible. He stepped back a pace or two, and peered through the thicket +of rose and pomegranate.</p> + +<p class="normal">The scum of the bazaars had spoken truth, then! That man and woman +standing so close to each other in the scented twilight were the new +Colonel, the real Colonel's wife! What infamy! He set his teeth and +listened--though this was to him as incomprehensible as the call to +peace and goodwill had been.</p> + +<p class="normal">"For God's sake, have pity on her!" Boy's mother's voice was full of +tears. "I heard you settle it. But if you two pick that <i>dhatura</i> +tonight--'the last thing after the Tree, so that it may not wither!' +Oh, yes, I heard, Colonel Gould--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"You <i>did</i> hear. I don't deny it. My dear, kind lady--think! If it is +not to-night--it <i>must</i> be soon. This life is killing her--it is +wiser, kinder, to end the struggle now--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No! no! give her time. It is in your power to do this, for she loves +you. Remember it is Christmas; you might, at least--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"The better the day! No; Christmas must take care of itself--if <i>it</i> +can! I mean to take her away and care for her--if <i>I</i> can. But thanks, +all the same. I shall never forget your kindness."</p> + +<p class="normal">In the semi-darkness the listener could see the man stoop and kiss the +hand laid on his arm.</p> + +<p class="normal">The next instant Colonel Gould was turning savagely on the figure +which had thrust itself on to the path.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What the devil are you doing here, sir? You are under arrest, and +should be in quarters."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It was only open arrest, sir, and the time--" Hirabul's tone matched +the mutiny in his heart, and the Colonel broke in on it roughly--</p> + +<p class="normal">"Consider it close arrest now. Go back and report yourself at +once--and, by Heaven! if you say another word, I'll have you +court-martialled. Go!"</p> + +<p class="normal">A wild surge of impotent rage kept Hirabul Khan speechless, and ere he +recovered himself the Colonel was driving off--the Colonel and a +woman!</p> + +<div class="poem2"> +<p class="i6">"Sing, choirs of angels,<br> +Sing in exultation."</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">He turned and shook his fist at the church; then plunging recklessly +through the garden, sought silence and solitude. He needed calm before +he could even begin his revenge.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was no doubt about the coming of the rains now. More than one +heavy, curiously round drop fell on the dust through which he strode; +but all was still--very still as yet.</p> + +<p class="normal">By-and-by twinkling carriage-lights, like fireflies, began to sparkle +among the straight row of trees leading to the prison camp.</p> + +<p class="normal">Yet the rain kept off, and it had not even begun to fall when the +<i>ayah's</i> twinkling light roused Boy for his robing. But half awake, +the child grew fractious, calling all things "shkittles," save the +killing of Viljeon, who, he asserted, was hiding in the garden. To all +of which <i>Ayah</i>, awaiting the carriage, agreed, until her charge, +seated on his little bed, grew drowsy once more, and she stole off for +a last pull at her forbidden pipe.</p> + +<p class="normal">But Kunder's light went on twinkling in the farther room, where he was +conscientiously finishing his old domestic duties, and preparing for +new ones.</p> + +<p class="normal">So after a time the carriage arrived, bringing with it a smell of damp +dust.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hurry up, woman!" called the coachman. "It has begun down the road +like the storm of God. Bring the child; it were best he was soon in +safety."</p> + +<p class="normal">Bring the child! How? When Boy, with his little pretence wings sewn on +to his nightgown behind, his little sword that was not all pretence, +was not to be found!</p> + +<p class="normal">The twinkling lights--Kunder's among them--were all over the garden, +accompanied by endearments, threats, promises.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Shiv-jee</i> save him!" muttered Kunder, as suddenly the rain began to +fall in torrents, quenching his light, and washing him from head to +foot. The child with the red-gold curls of his race might well drown +on a night like this!</p> + +<p class="normal">The Colonel felt the same fear, as, waiting at the camp-gate to pass +the child in, he heard the news first; then, with a brief order that +the boy's mother was only to be told that the carriage had been +unable to return, owing to the violent storm, and that therefore the +gift-giving must go on without the little giver, started to join the +search.</p> + +<p class="normal">Hirabul also, who, waiting his opportunity for revenge, had dogged the +Colonel's footsteps all that evening, heard the tale as he skulked in +the crowd, put up his revolver, and with a sob at the thought of his +far-away <i>sahib</i>, unconscious of his wife's treachery or his son's +danger, set himself another task.</p> + +<p class="normal">So the rain fell, and the wayfarers, keeping by the flare of incessant +lightning to the raised roads, said to each other: "This is the deluge +of God! Repent, while there is time!"</p> + +<br> +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:20pt">* * * * *</p> +<br> + +<p class="normal">"What a terrific noise it makes on this iron roof," said Boy's mother, +when the gift-giving was nearly over. "I'm glad Boy didn't come--he +might have been frightened."</p> + +<br> +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:20pt">* * * * *</p> +<br> + +<p class="normal">Was he frightened out in the dark alone? He had been. Not at first, +however, when, half asleep, it had been almost a game to slip into the +garden to find and kill Viljeon, and so, cunningly, when he found no +one, into the belt of jungle adjoining it. He was not even frightened +when, stumbling over the rough ground and his long white robe, he +began to tire of his quest and tried to go back. It was not until the +lightning which heralded the bursting of the rain-cloud turned the +wilderness round him into black and white shadows that his courage +left him, and he started to run blindly, too terrified to think, still +too brave to scream.</p> + +<p class="normal">But he was not frightened now. He was fast asleep, cuddled warmly on a +big, broad breast against a big brown beard.</p> + +<p class="normal">For that quaint little figure, sword in hand and with its ridiculous +fluttering wings, had, almost in its first flight, run full tilt +against a man who was crouching to leeward of a big tuft of +tiger-grass--a man whose head was buried in his crossed arms, but who +sprang to his feet with a curse at the unmistakable touch of humanity; +then, as a flash of lightning showed him the white robe, the wings, +the golden aureole of hair, fell back faltering.</p> + +<p class="normal">"God in heaven!" he muttered in a foreign tongue. "What dost Thou +here?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Boy needed no question as to his wants. "Oh, please!" he panted, "take +me home. I wanted to kill Vile John with the sword as Kunder sharped; +but now I'd wather, please, give the Chrishmus fings--the peace, you +know, an' all that--please, sir. I weally would wather--"</p> + +<p class="normal">A sudden smile, half bitter, came to the man's bewildered face. "You +wanted to kill Vile John," he said in English. "Why?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, I don't know--but I don't want to now. I'd wather bring the +peace."</p> + +<p class="normal">And then silently the rain had begun--not rain such as Christmas +usually brings in India, but the downpour as from a bucket which comes +at times after long drought; rain before which nothing can stand, +which seems to wash the world and the men in it from all things save a +desire for shelter.</p> + +<p class="normal">"God in heaven!" exclaimed the man, reverting to his own tongue. "We +shall be drowned if we stop here. Come, little rat! Let us find a spot +where we can keep dry."</p> + +<p class="normal">A difficult job even for this man--Viljeon, prince of veldt +roamers--to whom this country with its rapidly filling watercourses, +its wide stretches of flood-land, was almost familiar. Seen, indeed, +by the rapid shimmer of the lightning as he steered his way, the +instinct of a pioneer waking in him at every step, he could scarce +believe he was not mastering an African drift.</p> + +<p class="normal">And the child cuddled close to his breast, wrapped for shelter in his +coat? Who was this child which he held as if it had been his own--the +child with its travesty of wings, its travesty of a sword?</p> + +<p class="normal">Half bewildered as he was, the humour, the pathos of the strange +chance made his heart softer, and his eyes grew keener, not only for +himself but for his charge, as the danger increased minute by minute.</p> + +<p class="normal">At first, mixed with his desire for present shelter had been that of +future escape for himself. But by degrees the thought of the child +came uppermost. Safety for it lay on different lines from safety to a +strong man untrammelled; and the instinct of the veldtsman told him +that the former was on the higher ground near the cantonment--near the +prison he had left!</p> + +<p class="normal">So, through the incessant rain, he threaded his way wading waist-deep +at times, till on a rising bit of land the lightning showed him a +ruined mud hovel. It might serve for shelter and rest for the time: if +the flood rose to it he could but go on.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was a sort of cattle-shed he found; a rude trough of mud ran round +it, and in one corner was a pile of straw. He drew the driest of this +from beneath the leaking roof, and, placing it in the trough, laid the +still sleeping child upon it. It was better so than in his damp coat. +Then, creeping to the doorway, he sate down to think and watch--alone.</p> + +<p class="normal">Not quite so much alone, however, as the darkness of the night which +followed on the sudden cessation of rain led him to believe; for not +two hundred yards away, in another cattle-shed on this Government +grazing-ground, three other refugees were also awaiting the dawn.</p> + +<p class="normal">For Kunder, who had abandoned jewels in the search for gold curls, had +happened in the dark upon Hirabul Khan, who in his turn was +desperately seeking aid for a disabled man whose shouts for help he +had answered, unwitting who gave them.</p> + +<p class="normal">And if it <i>was</i> the Colonel, explained Hirabul, half apologetically, +as they made their way back together to give the help--well! a man +might be disloyal over women--who were the devil--yea! even to a real +hero like the absent <i>sahib</i>, and yet not deserve to drown like a rat +in a drain; and as for the other question, <i>that</i> stood over for +settlement.</p> + +<p class="normal">Whereupon Kunder had asked what treacherous woman had an absent hero, +and had thereupon fallen into jeers over Hirabul's mistake. Was he a +fool not to know it was the other <i>mem</i> who lived in the house? As for +Boy's mother, was she not palpably a <i>pudmuni</i>, with no thought save +for husband and son?</p> + +<p class="normal">In consequence of which explanation a new and remorseful respect had +come to Hirabul's helping of the Colonel, so that when the latter was +at last in comparative safety in the cattle-shed, he, too, found food +for thought as he also sate waiting for daylight, hoping against hope +for Boy and Boy's mother.</p> + +<p class="normal">So the grey dawn found him dozing at the door. But he started to his +feet at an exclamation from Kunder, who was standing outside; and +then across a stretch of shallowing water he saw another ruined +cattle-shed, and at the doorway a tall, broad man, with a big brown +beard.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Viljeon!" he exclaimed under his breath.</p> + +<p class="normal">"To be shot at sight," mumbled Hirabul, but half awake, as he reached +round aimlessly for a rifle.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Fool!" cavilled Kunder, all unwitting of the revolver in Hirabul's +belt, "thou art not safe with things that kill, so 'tis well thou hast +none. See! he beckons to us. Let us go to him. The rain hath washed +evil from us all!"</p> + +<p class="normal">They helped the Colonel, who could scarce believe his senses, to +hobble across, while Viljeon stood guarding the door with a still, +stern look on his face.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You will find the Child lying in the manger," he said; "bring your +offerings--I have brought mine."</p> + +<br> +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:20pt">* * * * *</p> +<br> + +<p class="normal">But only three wise men went down to cantonments that Christmas +morning, bringing the child with them; for Kunder, wiser perhaps, or +less wise, felt that his new virtue was better away from the proximity +of the jewels he had left tied up ready in a bundle; so, seizing his +opportunity, he slipped like a water-snake into the tangle of floods +and was seen no more.</p> + +<br> +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:20pt">* * * * *</p> +<br> + +<p class="normal">"And after all," said Boy's mother, softly, "Christmas <i>did</i> take care +of itself!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes!" answered the Colonel, quietly. "We all brought our +offerings--gold and frankincense and myrrh."</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_sur" href="#div1Ref_sur">SURÂBHI</a></h2> + +<h3>A FAMINE TALE</h3> +<br> + +<p class="normal">She was only a cow, but she was all things, wife and child, earth and +heaven, to old Gopâl, the Brahmin who owned her.</p> + +<p class="normal">And, apart from his estimation, she had value. Connoisseurs in the +village, as they looked over the low mud wall which separated the slip +of open courtyard, ten feet by six, where there was just room for a +crazy four-legged string bed between Surâbhi's manger and the door, +would nod and say she must have been a good cow when young; but when +that was only God knew!</p> + +<p class="normal">Whereupon Gopâl would raise his shaven head with its faint frosting of +silver hair from Surâbhi's silver flank, as he squatted holding a +brass <i>lotah</i> in one hand, milking with the other, and smile +scornfully.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Old or young, she is the best milker in the village, and the best +looking one, and the best bred," he would say. "And wherefore not? Is +she not Surâbhi the Great Milk-Mother, whom even the gods worship? +Since without her where would the little godlings be?" And then he +would pop down the <i>lotah</i> and cease milking for a moment, so that +both hands might be free for a reverential <i>salaam</i> to the old cow +who, at the cessation, would turn her mild white face--the real +Brahmini zebu face with its wide dewy black nostril, wide dewy black +eyes, and long lopping ears--to see what had come to old Gopi; and as +often as not, would give his round frosted black poll a lick round +with her black frosted tongue, by way of encouragement to go on, as if +he had been a calf!</p> + +<p class="normal">But the connoisseurs over the wall would snigger, and touch their +foreheads, and say that Gopâl Das was getting quite childish and mixed +up things. Though, no doubt, the great Surâbhi must have been just +such another cow, since the old man said right. There was not her like +in the village. No! not even now that Govinda had brought home the +brown cow with five teats, which had taken the prize at the <i>Huzoor's</i> +big show. It was younger, of course, but Surâbhi would outlast the old +man, and what more could <i>he</i> want? Then who, before these latter +days, had ever heard tell of a brown cow? And as for the five teats, +they might portend more milk, but were they lawful?</p> + +<p class="normal">So long-limbed, whole-hearted, dull-headed, the villagers went +doubtfully about their business scarcely less confused than old Gopi +between facts and fancies, realities and unrealities; tied and bound, +as their like are in hamlet and village, by the allegories of a faith +whose inner teaching has been forgotten.</p> + +<p class="normal">But old Gopâl stayed with Surâbhi. His life was bounded by her. How he +lived was one of the many mysteries of Indian village life. He did +nothing but look after his cow, but he must have inherited some +fractional share of the village land from his fathers, or been +entitled, by reason of his race, to some ancestral dues, for twice a +year at harvest time he would come back to the courtyard, like a +squirrel to its nest, with so many handfuls of this grain and so many +handfuls of that, so many bundles of wheat straw, millet stalks, or +pea stems. And on these, and the milk she gave, he and Surâbhi lived +contentedly. He was very old; if he had had wife and children in the +past he had quite forgotten them. Yet it was typical of village life +that no one forgot old Gopi or his rights. Whatever was due to him +from well or unwatered land, even if it were only so many leaves of +tobacco or chili pods, came to the courtyard as regularly as the +sunshine.</p> + +<p class="normal">And, regularly as the sunshine, too, the old man, after he had milked +Surâbhi in the early dawn, would go with his solitary blanket and a +little spud, and spend the whole day till sunset in gathering +succulent weeds for the Great Milk-Mother's supper. It was his +religion. And under the broad blue sky, edging a plantigrade path over +the parched plain, leaving, like a locust, not a green leaf behind +him, old Gopi's mind would be full of confused piety and mystical +meanings.</p> + +<p class="normal">This was the highest service of man, this was Faith, and Hope, +and Charity all combined; since every one knew that Surâbhi was the +World-Mother, and without her--</p> + +<p class="normal">Here the old Brahmin's memory of words would fail him, and he would +fall back on deeds, by digging at the biggest weed within reach.</p> + +<p class="normal">From year's end to year's end he seldom fingered a coin, and if he +did, it was Surâbhi who brought it to him. Her last calf had long +since become an ox, and drifted away from the village to fill a gap in +the great company of the ploughers and martyrs who give the coffer of +the Empire all its gold and die in thousands--long before famine +touches humanity--without a penny piece from that coffer being spent +to save them from starvation. Yet she still, after the fashion of her +race, gave milk and to spare. The latter went, as a rule, to folk +poorer still than the old Brahmin, especially to children; but when he +sold it, part of the money was always spent on a new charm for +Surâbhi's neck. And it might be noted that whenever, by looking over +the old mud walls which separated the village courtyards one from the +other, he found that Govinda's brown cow had a fresh bell or +disposition of cowries round her neck, there was always enough milk +over and above Gopi's wants next day to procure a similar adornment +for the white one with its heavy dewlap.</p> + +<p class="normal">The rivalry grew, by degrees, into a definite challenge between their +owners, so that when, after a time, Govinda's beast fell off in her +milk, Gopi's delight was palpable, and he scouted all reasonable +explanations of the fact.</p> + +<p class="normal">The cow, he said, was underbred. You could see by her hoofs that she +had been accustomed to wander about and pick up her own living like +low-caste folk; while Surâbhi bore token of her lifelong seclusion in +every polished ring of her long-pointed black toes.</p> + +<p class="normal">But before the question at issue could be decided, that came about +which dried up every cow in the village, and made even old Gopi's +brass <i>lotah</i> cease to brim.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was no rain. Even in December and January, though the skies were +dappled as the partridge's breast, the clouds carried their moisture +elsewhere. Where, did not affect the villagers. It was not here, and +that was all they knew. The autumn crop, which means fodder, had been +a scant one, the cattle were thrown entirely on the still scantier +growth of grass in the waste land; and when that failed, custom did +not fail. The herds were driven forth from the thorn enclosures every +morning to the wilderness and taken back from it at eve, just as if +that wilderness were still a grazing-ground. What else could be done, +seeing that when cattle starve it is not a famine? <i>That</i> is a time +when help is given by the new master. God knows why, since the old +masters never gave any.</p> + +<p class="normal">Such time of help must come, of course, ere long, if the clouds +remained dry; but meanwhile the flocks and herds went out to graze on +mud, and if some failed to return in the evening, what else was to be +expected?</p> + +<p class="normal">So the long dry days dragged on. That spring-harvest old Gopâl's share +of garnered grain was scarcely worth the bringing home. The squirrel's +hoard in the little courtyard was scanty indeed, and very soon he had +to stint his own share, and rise an hour earlier to go weed-grubbing, +and return an hour later, so that Surâbhi should not low her +discontent at short commons. For that would be shame unutterable, even +though the brown cow had long since been driven from high-class +seclusion to fend for herself with the common herd from dawn to eve.</p> + +<p class="normal">Thus old Gopâl's lank anatomy was appreciably more lank, more +skeleton-like, when one day the headman of the village, as he smoked +his pipe in front of the house of faith where strangers were lodged, +announced that the famine had really come at last. Over in Chotia +Aluwala there were piles of baskets and spades. Some <i>Huzoors</i> were +there in white tents, so doubtless ere long, God knows why, they would +begin digging earth from one place and putting it in another, so that +a distribution of grain could be made in the evening.</p> + +<p class="normal">That was the headman's idea of relief-works, and his hearers had no +other.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now, Chotia Aluwala was ten miles at least from Surâbhi's stall, but +of late Gopi had scarce found a weed within twice that distance.</p> + +<p class="normal">So the very next day, when, backed by a pile of forlorn-looking earth +on one side and a not much smaller pile of baskets with which the +earth had, during the day's toil been conveyed to its present +resting-place, one hungry face after another came up in file to the +distribution of food, old Gopi's frosted head was among the number. +But he was bitterly disappointed at his dole of cooked dough-cake. He +had expected grain. Though more than enough for his old appetite, what +would Surâbhi, with her seven stomachs, say to such concentrated food?</p> + +<p class="normal">After his long trudge home he passed a miserable night seeking, by +every means in his power, to supply the bulk necessary for the +satisfying of those clamorous stomachs. He even chopped up the grass +twine of his string bed and tempted the old cow to chew it by soaking +the fibre in some of her own milk.</p> + +<p class="normal">Thus, once more, he came off second best, for the milk should have +been his share. So he could scarcely manage to stagger along with his +basket next day. Not that this mattered, for already the Englishmen, +who, in their khaki clothes and huge pith helmets were supervising the +work, were saying tentatively, with a glance at the totterers, that it +might have been better to start relief a little sooner. And down in +one hollow Gopi saw a woman being carried away, while the babe which +had been at her breast yelled feebly in an orderly's arms.</p> + +<p class="normal">The sight did not affect Gopi in the least. He had thought out a plan +which filled his confused old soul with a heavenly joy. So when his +two dough-cakes were given him that evening he hurried off with them +to the contractor in the background, through whom the <i>Huzoors</i> +had arranged for this supply, and exchanged them--at a loss, +inevitably--for the coarse husks, the bran, the sweepings, the +absolute waste which could not be used even in famine bread.</p> + +<p class="normal">The arrangement suited both parties, the contractor and old Gopi, who +day after day trudged home, hungry, with a bulky bundle of fodder for +Surâbhi. It was a fair exchange all round; even with the old cow, who +turned the fodder into milk. Not much, it is true, since the bundle +was not over-large, but enough to keep Gopi's soul and body together.</p> + +<p class="normal">And the soul grew if the body wasted. How could it be otherwise, when +one was permitted to be the babe and suckling, as it were, of the +Great Milk-Mother? The Great World-Mother, whose sacred work it was to +nourish all things, even the little godlings?</p> + +<p class="normal">The old Brahmin's eyes grew softer, more trustful, more like the eyes +of a child, as the days went by; and as he milked her, Surâbhi's black +frothed tongue often licked more than his shaven poll, as if she were +concerned at the bones which showed through the skin of her calf.</p> + +<p class="normal">Gopâl himself, however, took this licking as a mark of Divine favour; +and, as for the thinness, were not all the babes and sucklings growing +thin?</p> + +<p class="normal">That was true. The Englishman in head charge of the Chotia Aluwala +relief-work canal had that thinness on his conscience. But what could +man do in a wilderness, without mothers, without milk?</p> + +<p class="normal">He had it on his heart too, because he was a father; and because, +despite a mother and milk, doctors and dosing galore, it was not two +months since he had seen his first-born waste away mysteriously to +death, as children will waste.</p> + +<p class="normal">So his mind was full of it, when, for the sake of seeing a lonely wife +and mother, he rode forty miles after nightfall to the little bungalow +so empty of a child's voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I've got quite a nursery of 'em now," he said grimly, "but they beat +me. I can't get the men in charge to mix that tin-milk stuff right, +you know, and the little beggars won't look at a teaspoon."</p> + +<p class="normal">Perhaps it was his ride that had tired him. Anyhow, he crossed his +hands on the table, and laid his head on them wearily.</p> + +<p class="normal">He roused, however, at her touch on his shoulder.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Let me come," she said; "I've--I've nothing to do here."</p> + +<p class="normal">He looked at her for a moment, then turned his eyes away. "Will you?" +he said in an odd voice; "that--that will be awfully jolly."</p> + +<p class="normal">So in a day or two, armed with the dead baby's bottles, feeding-cups, +God knows what, and such mother's lore as the dead child had taught +her, she was at work in a white tent set in the shade of the only tree +at Chotia Aluwala.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I must have more milk," she said decidedly, and there was a new light +in her eyes, a new tone in her voice, when they brought her yet +another whimpering black baby. "That is the end of it; by hook or by +crook I <i>must</i> have more milk. There <i>must</i> be some, somewhere. Send +out and see!"</p> + +<p class="normal">So, because when a woman is standing between death and children, her +orders are the orders of "She-who-must-be-obeyed," they sent. And, of +course, one of the first discoveries made by the native underling to +whom the inquiry was entrusted, was Surâbhi. In other words, that an +old Brahmin, in receipt actually of relief, was the possessor of a +remarkably fine cow, if not in full milk, yet capable of supporting an +infant or two. It needs the vicious <i>flair</i> of an underpaid +<i>chuprassi</i> to find such chances for tyranny and extortion at the +first throw off. But this one was found, and when Gopi returned that +evening to the little courtyard, an official with a brass <i>lotah</i> was +waiting for milk. It would be paid for, of course, by-and-by. Gopi +could keep an account, and the <i>Sirkar</i> no doubt would pay, provided +the <i>proper official</i> certified it by a countersign.</p> + +<p class="normal">The old man was too confused, too tired to be ready with protest at a +moment's notice. So that night he went supperless to bed. But in the +white tent over at Chotia Aluwala, an Englishwoman's pale face had +quite a colour in it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Fancy!" she said, "two whole quarts of the most beautiful, rich milk! +I would reward that man if I were you, hubby. I am to have the same +every day. It--it means four lives at least!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Possibly, for a baby takes less to keep it alive than an old man.</p> + +<p class="normal">Small tragedies of this sort are common enough in India, but it is +difficult to give all their fineness of detail to English eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">Old Gopâl was at once cunning as a fox, guileless as a child; and +through both the guile and the innocence ran that bewildered belief in +Surâbhi as something beyond ordinary cows. He tried to escape the +<i>impasse</i> by not milking her dry, so as to leave some for himself; but +though Surâbhi resented any other hand finishing the task, it was +impossible for an experienced onlooker to be deceived. The result of +that, therefore, was abuse and blows. Then he tried keeping back one +dough-cake from his daily dole for himself, and only exchanging the +other for fodder. That reduced the milk in reality, but it also +reduced Surâbhi to lowing; and his sense of sin, in consequence, +became so acute that he was forced into going back to the old plan. +But these tactics had, by this time, roused the petty official's ire. +The <i>mem sahiba</i> had spoken sharply to him because the milk had fallen +off in quantity and quality; for he had not scrupled, despite old +Gopi's tears and distracted prayers, to take away the Milk-Mother's +character by filling up the measure with water.</p> + +<p class="normal">And so he lost patience. Thus one day he avenged himself and attained +his object by first reporting that Gopi, Brahmin, was wrongfully and +fraudulently obtaining relief, seeing that he was, amongst other +things, possessor of a remarkably fine cow, whose milk he was selling +to the <i>Huzoors</i>, and then seizing Surâbhi, on the ground that Gopi, +having no means of supporting her, was not fit to take care of so +valuable an animal!</p> + +<p class="normal">These two blows, followed by the sight of Surâbhi being walked off on +her dainty toes into the rough outside world, quite upset the frail +balance of the old man's mind.</p> + +<p class="normal">He crouched shivering all night in the empty stall, feeling himself +accursed. He was not worthy. Surâbhi had gone.</p> + +<p class="normal">How long he remained there speechless, famine-stricken, yet not +hungry, he did not know. It was early afternoon when the white garment +and brass badge of authority showed again at the door in the low wall, +and a voice said sullenly--</p> + +<p class="normal">"Thou must come. Thy cursed cow is a devil for kicking, and the <i>mem</i> +is a fiend for temper. My badge is gone if thou come not. My pony will +carry two."</p> + +<p class="normal">The sun was showing red behind the great piles of earth which in that +wide level plain rose like a range of hills, when the oddly assorted +pair rode into the shade of the Chotia Aluwala tree. There was no need +to announce the arrivals. Surâbhi declared who one was, almost ere he +stumbled to the ground, stiff, dazed, bewildered. All the more +bewildered for that vision of something undreamt of, unseen hitherto +in Gopâl Das' ignorant village life--a woman fair as milk herself, +smiling at him gladly, calling with quaint, strange accent: +"Quick--quick! we wait, we are hungry--are we not, babies?"</p> + +<p class="normal">There were dark toddlers round the white dress, a dark head on the +white bosom, and old Gopi muttered something about the Milk-Mother, +the World-Mother, as, with a brass vessel some one thrust into his +hand, he squatted down beside Surâbhi.</p> + +<p class="normal">He scarcely needed to milk her; perhaps that was as well, for he was +very tired. But the <i>lotah</i> brimmed, and another had to be called for, +while Surâbhi's black frosted tongue licked the black frosted head +between her "<i>moos</i>" of satisfaction.</p> + +<p class="normal">And beyond, in the shadiest part of the shade, there was more +satisfaction and to spare.</p> + +<p class="normal">After a while old Gopi crept stiffly to watch it, squatting in the +dust with dry, bright, wistful eyes fixed on the bottles, the babies; +above all on the milk-white face full of smiles.</p> + +<p class="normal">Until suddenly he gave a little cry.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Me too, Mother of mercy! Great Milk-Mother of the world, me too!" he +said, like any child, and so fell forward insensible with +outstretched, petitioning hands.</p> + +<p class="normal">But that was the end of his troubles.</p> + +<p class="normal">When he came to himself, the Great Milk-Mother was feeding him with a +teaspoon. Nor when he recovered his strength would she let him out of +the nursery, for by that time the whole story had been told, with the +curious calm acquiescence of villagers in such pitiful tales of +mistake and wrong. Every one had known the truth, of course, but what +then? The <i>Huzoors</i> wanted the milk for the babies, and Gopi was old--</p> + +<p class="normal">"He is only a baby himself," interrupted a woman's voice indignantly +when this explanation was being given; "why, this morning I made him +as happy as a king by letting him suck one of the bottles! He said +that there was nothing left now to be desired, nothing wanting, +except--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Except what?" asked the man's voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">"That he could see no little godlings like--like me."</p> + +<p class="normal">Then there was silence.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_salt" href="#div1Ref_salt">ON THE OLD SALT ROAD</a></h2> +<br> + +<p class="normal">After the discussion on a certain story told by the grey man had +reached dissolution point from sheer want of coherence, I observed +that the Major--though still standing in his usual place by the +fire--was looking into the embers instead of warming his coat-tails at +them. This fact, and the expression of his face, convinced me that he +had forgotten the present in some past experience.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The Major remembers a story," I remarked aloud. He looked up with a +smile.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I must have a very transparent face," he said, "but it is quite true. +I have been wondering if I ought not to tell you something that +happened to some one--to me, in fact--a great many years ago. It seems +to me that I ought. You see most of you are inclined to scoff at the +story we have just heard; unwilling to allow anything but a rational +explanation of the mysterious summons. I am not, simply because I +happen to have had certain experiences which most of you have not had. +The question therefore arises as to whether I am not bound to give my +evidence, and so, perhaps, prevent you from forming a hasty judgment?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He looked inquiringly round the room, but no one spoke. We were so +much accustomed to accept the Major's decisions as, above all things, +equitable, that we were content to let him arrive at one unbiassed by +our views. During the pause which followed, I found myself thinking +that weight for weight, inches for inches, brains for brains, I knew +no man who had made a better use of life than our Major. Not over +clever, certainly not handsome, handicapped heavily by having to start +at scratch in worldly matters, he had a distinct personality of his +own which influenced every society he entered. You felt somehow that +your estimate of that society rose from his presence, and that he +brought an element of sound, healthy strength of heart and mind into +the <i>mêlée</i> which you would not willingly spare from the struggle for +existence. It came to this. Had he not been there the world would have +been the worse for his absence; high praise, indeed, for any man.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes!" continued the Major, after a pause, "I'll have to tell my tale +like the Ancient Mariner; and if in so doing I bore you with a few +uninteresting confidences about myself, I can't help it. You shall +have as little of them as possible."</p> + +<p class="normal">He was so long settling himself in a chair, pulling up his trousers in +his careful, economical way, and poking the fire, that our attention +had begun to waver, when his opening words startled us into renewed +curiosity.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't suppose," he began, "that any of you know I am a widower; but +I am. My wife died a year after our marriage; and the child too--a +girl. If you search the whole wide world through you won't find a more +desolate creature than a boy of two-and-twenty coming back alone in a +strange country from the grave of his wife and child. Perhaps, as +Rudyard Kipling says, he has no business to have a wife and child. +Anyhow he feels a mistake somewhere in the universe when he tries to +behave like a man in the little drawing-room she made so pretty. The +twopenny-halfpenny fans put up to hide the bare walls--the little +dodges to make the sticks of furniture look nice which seemed to you +so clever, and over which you have both laughed so often--the unused +basket thing done up with lace and frills over which she was so happy +that last evening, while you sate by wondering if it could be true, +and that your child would lie amongst the dainty furbelows. Well! I +suppose it has to be sometimes, but it drove me mad. I was like the +boy in another of Kipling's tales, and could think of nothing but +death to end it all; just to creep away and die by myself somewhere. I +did not want so much to be dead, but to be quite alone--by myself. You +see I had lost everything--for ever--and the rest of the stupid world +drove me wild with impatience.</p> + +<p class="normal">"So I went out on leave to the old Salt Road, which ran right across +the loneliest part of the district. Perhaps some of you don't know +what a Salt Road is? Simply the Customs line which in old days used to +be patrolled day and night in order to prevent smuggling. The cactus +hedge had been cut down when the protection system was given up, but +the road behind it was still passable, and the patrol houses, more or +less dilapidated, stood at intervals of ten or twelve miles. I had +seen some of them when out on shooting expeditions, and the +remembrance of their desolation came back on me now with a new sort of +fascination.</p> + +<p class="normal">"After I settled to go I used to lie awake wondering which of them +would be the place. Not the first. That was within hail of other +people and help; besides, I could not so soon get rid of the servant +whom I had to take with me in order to avoid suspicion. My plan was to +send the man on early with orders to do two stages, and have +everything ready for me at night in bungalow Number Three; then I +should have all the day to myself. Would it be bungalow Number Two, at +noon, I wondered? As there were five patrol houses in all, it would +most likely be Two or Four; but if I liked any of the others better I +could easily find some excuse for getting rid of the servant.</p> + +<p class="normal">"This may seem unnatural, but I was really quite mad with a sort of +rage and spite against everything and everybody; so utterly absorbed +in myself that I felt as if I were taking a revenge on life by +quitting it. My own pain being the axis of the universe, the world +must surely be the loser by its removal. In fact, my mental position +at this time might be fairly represented by that of a man quitting a +pleasant society because some one has been rude to him. I had no hopes +of bettering my condition; I simply wanted to show my resentment.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't believe I ever slept sounder in my life than on the first +night after leaving cantonments. Perhaps it was the change; but I +remember being disappointed and disgusted with myself when I woke to +find broad daylight streaming in through the broken windows of Number +One. My servant, according to his orders, had started at dawn, for the +weather was still hot enough to make early marching necessary. He had, +however, left me a bottle of cold tea and some provisions, which I ate +with appetite. And now comes a curious thing. Though I had quite made +up my mind to face death, and all the dangers it might bring, I +positively hesitated about starting for a ten-mile walk in the sun +from fear of heat apoplexy. It was very unreasonable, but it shows the +force of habit. After I had decided on remaining where I was till the +evening, I walked round the tumble-down mud building, wondering if it +would do for the final tableau. It did not please me, so I lay down +and slept, feeling that I ought really to have remained awake and +brooded over my grief. But an unconquerable drowsiness was upon me, +making me sleep like a child. How well I remember the ten-mile walk to +the next bungalow! The afternoon shadows lengthened across the +half-effaced road as I tramped along in solitary silence. I had +nothing with me save my revolver and a small writing-case with which +to inscribe my last words of defiance. My thoughts were full of what +these should be, for I had now quite made up my mind that bungalow +Number Two was to be the place, and that a very short time would rid +me of all my foes. I felt distinctly easier than I had done before, +and being, as it were, wound up to tragedy pitch, the cheerful +appearance of Number Two as I came up to it in the sunset disappointed +me. In cutting down the thorn and cactus hedge they had, as usual, +left the <i>kikar</i> bushes, and these had grown into trees, forming an +avenue, while a few more shaded the house itself. This was also far +less dilapidated than Number One; not only were the doors and windows +intact, but at a few of them still hung the usual reed blinds or +<i>chicks</i>. As I wandered round the house before entering it, I noticed +what one might call the graves of a garden. Broken mounds of earth +giving a reminiscence of walks and beds, with here and there a globe +amaranth doing chief mourner. Evidently bungalow Number Two had been +the permanent residence of a patrol. It annoyed me to find myself +wondering if he had had a wife and child, so I hastily entered the +centre room, determined to put an end to all useless sympathies +without delay. To my surprise it contained a few half-broken sticks of +furniture; but telling myself that it would make my last task easier I +laid my revolver on the table and, taking out my case, sat down to +write. Again I felt curiously drowsy; more than once I rested my head +on my hands and rubbed my eyes in the endeavour to collect my +thoughts.</p> + +<p class="normal">"A sudden increase of light in the room, visible even through my +shading fingers, made me look up. The <i>chick</i> was turned aside, and +holding it back with one chubby hand stood a little child about three +years old. I think, without exception, the loveliest little girl I +ever saw. Great mischievous brown eyes, and fluffy curls of that pale +gold which turns black in after years. She raised her hand from the +door-jamb, and placed her finger to her lips, brimming over with +laughter.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'<i>Hush!! Ma-ma's a-teep. Dot's 'un away</i>.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"Such a ripple of a voice, musical with happiness. I was always fond of +children, and this one was of the sort any man would notice--perhaps +covet. I laid down my pen, forgetful of interruption.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Dot has run away, has she? That's very naughty of Dot, isn't it? But +as she has run away she had better come in here. You are not afraid of +me, are you?'</p> + +<p class="normal">"She was already in the room; then I noticed for the first time that +she was in her nightgown--a straight white thing like they put the +angels into, and her small bare feet made no noise on the floor.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Dot's not af'aid. Dot's never af'aid. Dot's a b'aave girl. Dada says +so.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"She spoke more to herself than to me, and the words were evidently a +formula well known and often repeated.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Who is Dada?' I asked, feeling the first curiosity that had had +power to touch me for many days.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dot had raised herself to the level of the table with her tiny hands, +and now stood on tiptoe opposite me. Her fair curls framed her face, +as her laughing brown eyes fixed themselves on my revolver.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Dada's?' she said coaxingly. 'Dot wants to make a <i>puff-puff-boom!</i>'</p> + +<p class="normal">"The childish words evoked a quick horror, why, I cannot tell; but a +sudden vision of myself as I should be in that lonely room after the +dull report rose up and blinded me. Somehow the coaxing babyish phrase +filled me with an awful revulsion of feeling. My head sank into my +hands; when I raised it the child had gone.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I went into the verandah uncertain what to do. The room next mine had +a <i>chick</i> also, so that I could not see in from the outside, but from +within came a low crooning song like a lullaby. Every now and again +little bursts of a child's voice. Dot, no doubt, recaptured and +soothed to sleep. It was evident that the bungalow was occupied by +others beside myself, for in the gathering dusk I thought I saw some +white forms flitting about the servants' quarters. I wondered faintly +at the latter, for I had a half recollection of noticing that the huts +were entirely in ruins. My mind, however, had now reverted to its +original purpose with increased strength, and I returned to the room +considering what had best be done. The child's words, '<i>Dot's not +af'aid! Dot wants to make a puff-puff-boom</i>,' would not keep out of +my head. After all, was it not only another way of phrasing my own +desire? I was not afraid. Not afraid of what? Amid these questionings +one thing was certain. It could not be bungalow Number Two-- I would +not frighten the child Ah, no! I could not frighten Dot for ever with +the awful <i>puff-puff-boom</i> I had set myself to make.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It must therefore be Number Four, so I packed up my writing things +and set off to rejoin my servant at Number Three. How childish we are! +As I trudged along I caught myself smiling more than once over the +recollection of Dot's mischievous face at the door. My servant was +patiently awaiting my arrival beside the dinner he had cooked for me. +Supposing I had not turned up--according to my original plan--he would +have waited calmly all night long, keeping his '<i>clear soup, chikhun +cutlet, custel pudden</i>' hot for a dead man. I must have been less mad, +for the humour of the idea struck me at the time, and I laughed. He +gravely asked why I had not brought on my pillow and sheets, and I +laughed again as I told him I meant to do without them in the future. +Everything was clear now. Fate had settled on Number Four, so there +was nothing to worry or hustle about. I bade him call me early, +determined this time to have all the day to myself. Then I fell asleep +to dream the night long of Dot and the revolver. Indeed my thoughts +were so full of her, that even when I woke I fancied, more than once, +that I heard her voice in the verandah, though I knew it could only be +a trick of fancy, for the bungalow was a perfect wreck, and even the +room I occupied had but half a roof.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It must have been about eleven o'clock ere I reached Number Four, +which stood off the road a little and was much smaller than any of the +other bungalows. Indeed it consisted of but two rooms opening the one +into the other. It looked the very picture of desolation, planted +square in the open with a single <i>kikar</i> tree struggling for life in +one corner of the enclosure. Yet it was the best preserved of all the +patrol-houses; perhaps because of its smaller size and greater +compactness. Anyhow it needed little to fit it for habitation, and as +I found out afterwards it was constantly used by the civil officers +when on their tours of inspection. At the time, however, I was +surprised to find signs of recent occupation about it in the shape of +earthen pots and half-burnt sticks in a mud fireplace. Going into the +outer room I found it contained, like Number Two, a few bits of +furniture, and feeling weary I sat down by the table without looking +into the other room, only a portion of which was visible through the +half-closed door.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Once more I laid my revolver beside me, and took out my writing +materials. I had just begun my task when a deadly disgust at the whole +business came over me, and I resolved to end everything without +further delay. My hand sought the revolver, and fingered it +mechanically to see if it were loaded. A sense of strangeness made me +look at it, when, to my intense surprise, I found it was not my own +weapon. This was an old-fashioned heavy revolver, and one of the +chambers had evidently been recently fired. As I laid it down, +astonished beyond measure, I saw my own on the table beside it!</p> + +<p class="normal">"Whose then was the other? Did it belong to some one else in the +bungalow? Was I once more to be disturbed? I rose instinctively and +pushed open the door leading into the inner room. To my still greater +surprise I found it littered with half-open boxes and various things +lying about in great confusion. A few common toys were on the floor; +on the bare string bed a bundle of bedding; on the table a heap of +towels, and a basin of water ominously tinged with red. The fireplace +was on the other side of the room beyond the table, and crouched +beside it on the floor was a woman closely huddled up in a common grey +shawl. She held something under its folds on her knee; something that +drew breath in long gasping sighs, with a fatal pause between them.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'I beg your pardon,' I stammered, intending to retire. Just then the +woman looking up, showed me a young face, so wild with grief and +terror that I paused irresolute.</p> + +<p class="normal">"' Will no one come!' she wailed, seeming to look past me with eyes +blind with grief. 'O God--dear God! will no one ever come?' Then, as +her face fell again over the burden on her lap, she moaned like an +animal in mortal agony. But above the moan I could still hear that +curious gasping sigh. 'Can I not help?' I asked. She gave no reply, so +I went up and stood beside her. Still she seemed unconscious of my +presence, for once more came the wail. 'Will nobody come? O my God! +will nobody come to help?' 'I have come,' I answered, touching her on +the arm. She looked at me then, and a curious thrill made me feel +quite dizzy for a moment. Perhaps that was the reason why both face +and voice seemed to me changed and altered. Her eyes met mine +doubtfully.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'You did not come before,' she said. 'No one ever came--no one, no +one.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"As I removed my hand she bent once more over her burden with the same +piteous moan.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Evidently she was stupefied by horror and suspense, so I gently +raised her shawl to see what was the matter.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Great heavens! What a sight! After all these years I seem to see it +now. Fair silky curls dabbled in blood that welled up from under the +handkerchief which the woman held convulsively to the little white +breast. One chubby hand thrown out stiff and clenched; great brown +eyes glazed and dim; grey lips where each gasping sigh sent a tinge of +red.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Dot!' I exclaimed, dropping on my knees the better to assure myself +of the awful truth.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The familiar name seemed to rouse the wavering life.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'<i>Dots not af'aid. Dot--only--wanted to make--a puff-puff-boom</i>.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"The words seemed to float in the air. I heard them as in a dream; and +as in a dream also came an insight into what had happened. Dada's +revolver within reach of those tiny hands. O Dot! poor little brave +Dot! I felt helpless before the awful tragedy. Once I tried to take +the child, but the woman resisted silently, nor could I get her to +listen to my entreaties that she should at least move to an easier +position. At last, seeing I could do nothing, and acknowledging +sorrowfully that nothing I could do was likely to be of any avail, I +contented myself with waiting beside her in silence, until the end. +And as I waited a coherent story grew out of what I knew, and what I +guessed. They had come on early that morning, the father on his way +further afield, the mother and child to remain in the little bungalow +till his return. Then all in a minute the accident; and then the only +servant had been sent forth wildly for help whilst the wretched woman +waited alone. Yes! that must have been it. So clear, so simple, so +awful in its very simplicity.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There was not a sound in the house save at intervals the woman's +moan. 'Will no one ever come! O God; will no one ever come!' and +always distinct above it the child's gasping sigh with a soft rattle +in it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How long this lasted I cannot say. It was like some hideous +nightmare, until suddenly the sighing ceased, and I became conscious +of an immeasurable relief. Yet I knew the silence meant death.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The woman did not move or notice me in any way, so once more I +touched her on the arm.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'There is no need to watch longer,' I said; 'Dot is asleep at last. +It is your turn to rest. Give me the child, and believe me there is +nothing to be done now.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"As before, she raised her face to mine, and the same thrill came over +me as I recognised an unmistakable change in features and voice; a +deadening of expression, a hardening of the tone into a certain +fretfulness.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'But there is a great deal to be done,' she replied rapidly. 'Oh! so +much. How can you know? We must dig the grave under the <i>kikar</i> tree +and bury her in the sand--for it is sand below, and it creeps and +creeps into the grave and will not leave room for Dot. And the night +must fall--oh, so dark!--before her father gets home. There will +hardly be time to dig the little grave before sunrise; and it must be +dug--you know it must--'</p> + +<p class="normal">"Her words seemed to me wild and distraught. To soothe her I repeated +that there was plenty of time.</p> + +<p class="normal">"She frowned, closed her eyes with one hand, and again replied in a +curiously rapid, even tone.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'No! no! there never has been time. It is always a hurry. Out in the +dark digging the grave, and the sand slipping, slipping, slipping till +there is no room. I have done it,--oh! so many times.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"I was puzzled what to do or say. The wisest course seemed to leave +her to herself until help arrived. So after one or two ineffectual +attempts at consolation I went outside in despair to see if the +assistance so sorely needed was not in sight. Surely it could not be +delayed much longer. I was surprised to find how late it was: noon had +long passed, and cool shadows were stretching themselves athwart the +parched ground. One, darker and cooler than the rest, lay eastward of +the solitary <i>kikar</i> tree. Here it was that the little grave was to be +dug if the mother's wish were fulfilled. Quite mechanically I strolled +to the spot, impelled by sad curiosity.</p> + +<p class="normal">"As I approached, the fragments of a low railing, half standing, half +lying, in a small oblong, made me wonder if the enclosure had already +been a resting-place. That might account for the mother's wish. Yes! +there was a grave; a tiny grave no bigger than little Dot's would be, +with a roughly-hewn cross as a headstone.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I bent to read the inscription:--</p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="sc2">HERE LIES</span><br> +<br> +<span class="sc">Our Little Darling Dot</span>.<br> +<br> +1840.</p> + + +<p class="normal">"Dot! I stood up with heart and brain in a whirl. Dot! 1840. +Five-and-twenty years ago, and Dot had died but half-an-hour before. +What did it mean? <i>What did it mean?</i></p> + +<p class="normal">"A sudden fear of the solitude and silence of the place fell upon me. +But for shame I would have turned tail on it then and there. As it +was, scorn of my own suspicions made me return to the house. How still +it was! how desolate. I remember standing at the outer door listening +in vain for some sound within; I remember seeing my revolver and +writing-case on the table in the outer room; I remember nerving myself +to push open the inner door, but I remember no more.</p> + +<br> +<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:20pt">* * * * *</p> +<br> + +<p class="normal">"They told me in hospital that I must have tripped over the broken +flooring between the two rooms, and in falling have cut my head +against the lintel.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Perhaps I did. Perhaps I didn't. I only know that something--God +knows what--stood between me and my madness, so that when I came to +myself it was gone for ever. In its place had grown up a craving to +live--to hear, to see, to know, to understand.</p> + +<p class="normal">"As I got better I used to lie and cry like a woman. Then the other +fellows would say it was all weakness, and that I must be a man and +bear up. And sometimes I would lie and smile. Then they said I was a +trump with more pluck than they had. And as often as not I wasn't +thinking of myself or my own troubles at all, but of brave little Dot +and her desire for a <i>puff-puff-boom</i>.</p> + +<p class="normal">"They sent me down the Indus to Bombay, so as to avoid the rattle of +the train, for my head was still weak. We stuck on a sandbank at +Sukkhur, being made unmanageable by two flats we were towing. They +were laden mostly with cargo, but carried a good many third-class +passengers. I don't know why I had risen from my sick-bed full of a +great curiosity, but I had. Somehow I never seemed to have looked at +life before, whereas now everything interested me. So I went down to +the flats and talked to the people. There was a cabin on one, carrying +a few second-class passengers, and as I was walking along a gangway +between some bales I saw an Englishwoman, holding a child on her lap. +The crouching attitude struck me as familiar; I stopped and spoke +about the weather or something. She looked up, and then I knew where I +had seen that attitude, for it was Dot's mother. I don't think I +should have recognised her--for she was an old woman with grey +hair--but for the remembrance of the changed look which, as you may +recollect, she had when I roused her in the bungalow by touching her +arm.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Is that your child?' I asked courteously, for, poorly dressed as she +was, her face was unmistakably refined.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'No!' she replied; and I recognised the somewhat querulous voice. +'It's my granddaughter, but I am as fond of her as if she were my +own--almost.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"As she spoke she shifted the child's head higher up on her arm, and I +saw a mass of fluffy light gold curls.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Perhaps she reminds you of your own,' I continued at a venture, +anxious only to make her talk.</p> + +<p class="normal">"A faint curiosity came to her worn face.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'It's funny you should say so--just as if you had seen our Dot. So +like--so wonderfully like. Sometimes it seems as if she had come back +again, yet it is five-and-twenty years since I lost her.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"'That is a long time.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"'A long, long time to remember, isn't it? And I've had so many and +lost so many. But I never forgot Dot--she was so pretty! Ah, well! I +daresay it would have been against her, poor lamb. "Favour is +deceitful and beauty is vain."'</p> + +<p class="normal">"She lulled the child on her lap to deeper slumber with a gentle +rocking. It seemed to me as if she were soothing regret to sleep also.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'She had curls like this one?' I remarked, cruelly anxious to keep +her to the subject.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Once more she looked at me with that oddly familiar bewilderment.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'I can't think where I've seen you before,' she said after a pause. +'I never met you in those old days, did I? Ah, well! I've lived so +long and travelled so far that I can't remember it all. Sometimes I +seem to forget everything except what I see--and Dot. I never forget +her. Only last month I was coming down the river not far from the +place where the little dear shot herself--she was playing with her +father's revolver, you know--and I seemed to go through it all again. +Her father--he left the Salt soon after--was downright vexed with me +because I fretted so. He said no good could come of remembering grief +so long. But I don't know. I've heard it said that there is only so +much sorrow and happiness in the world; then if one person gets a lot +there must be less trouble left for others. I've held on to my share +anyhow, though maybe, as father says, it isn't any good.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"Her tired eyes sought the distant sandhills wistfully and her mouth +trembled a little.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Just then the whistle sounded, bidding all stragglers go on board the +steamer.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Good-by,' said I, holding out my hand. 'To-morrow, if I may, I will +come again and tell you what your unforgotten grief did for me.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"But next morning I found that the flat had been left at its +destination during the night. That is all."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a long pause.</p> + +<p class="normal">"And your explanation?" asked a somewhat tremulous voice from a dark +corner.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Gentlemen," said the Major, "I have none to offer. What I know is +this. Somehow--God knows how--I saw that mother's unforgotten grief, +and it saved me from shirking my share."</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_doll" href="#div1Ref_doll">THE DOLL-MAKER</a></h2> +<br> + +<p class="normal">"Christmas Eve!" echoed Mrs. Langford. "Yes! I suppose it is; but I +had forgotten--there isn't much to remind one of it in India--is +there?"</p> + +<p class="normal">As she paused half-way up the verandah steps she glanced back at the +creeper-hung porch where the high spider-cart, in which she had come +home from the club, waited for its owner to return to the box-seat. He +seemed in no hurry to do so, and his glance followed hers as he stood +on the step below her. He was a tall man, so his face was on a level +with hers, and the two showed young, handsome--hers a trifle pale, his +a trifle red.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a stretch of garden visible beyond the creepers. It was not +flowerful, since Christmas, even in India, comes when the tide of sap, +the flow of life, is at its lowest; yet, in the growing dusk, the +great scarlet hands of the poinsettias could be seen thrusting +themselves out wickedly from the leafy shadows as if to clutch the +faint white stars of the oleanders blossoming above them; and there +was a bunch of Maréchal Niel roses in the silver belt of the woman's +white tennis dress, which told of sweeter, more home-like blossom.</p> + +<p class="normal">"And it is just as well," she continued, with a bitter little laugh, +"that there isn't, for it's a deadly, dreary time--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"All times are dreary," assented the tall man in a low voice, rapidly, +passionately, "when there is no one who cares--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"There is my husband," she interrupted, this time with a nervous +laugh. The answer fitted doubly, for she turned to a figure which at +that moment came out of the soft rose-tinted light of the room within, +and said in a faintly fretful tone, "You don't mean to say, George, +surely, that you've been working till now?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Working!" echoed George Langford, absently. "Yes! why not? Ah! is +that you, Campbell? Brought the missus home, like a good chap. Sorry I +couldn't come, my dear; but there was a beastly report overdue, so now +I've only time for a spin on the bicycle before dinner, for I must +have some exercise. By the way, Laura, you'd better send off your home +letter without mine. I really haven't had time to write to the boys +this mail."</p> + +<p class="normal">He was busy now, in the same absent, preoccupied, yet energetic way, +in seeing to the machine, which a red-coated servant held for him; but +he looked up quickly at his wife's reply--</p> + +<p class="normal">"I haven't written either."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Haven't you? That's a pity," he began, then paused, with a vaguely +unquiet look at her and her tall companion, which merged, however, +into a good-natured smile. "Well, they won't know it was Christmas +mail anyhow. 'Pon my soul I'd forgotten it myself, Campbell, or I'd +have made a point.... But there's the devil of a crush of work just +now, though I shall clear some of the arrears off to-morrow. That's +about the only good of a holiday to me!" He was off as he spoke--a +shadow gliding into the shadows, where the red hands of the +poinsettias and the white stars of the oleanders showed fainter as the +dusk deepened.</p> + +<p class="normal">But he left a pair of covetous, entreating hands and a white face +behind him in the verandah, between the rosy light of comfort from +within and the grey gloom of the world without.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It cannot go on--this sort of thing--for ever," said the man, still +in that low, passionate voice. "It will kill--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Kill him? Do you think so?" she interrupted, still with that little +half-nervous, half-bitter laugh. "I don't; he's awfully strong and +awfully clever, you know."</p> + +<p class="normal">The owner of the dogcart turned to it impatiently.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You will come to-morrow at eleven, anyhow," he said, bringing the +patience back to his voice with an effort, for it seemed to him--as it +so often seems to a man--that the woman did not know what she would be +at. "It will be a jolly drive; and, as they are sending out a +mess-tent, we need not come back till late. Your husband said he was +to be busy all day."</p> + +<p class="normal">He waited, reins in hand, for an answer. It came after a pause; came +decidedly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes; at eleven, please. It will be better anyhow than stopping here. +There isn't even tennis on Christmas Day, you know; and the house +is--is so deadly quiet." She turned to it slowly as she spoke, passed +into the rose light, and stood listening to the sound of the dogcart +wheels growing fainter and fainter. When it had gone an intense +stillness seemed to settle over the wide, empty house--that stillness +and emptiness which must perforce settle round many an Englishwoman in +India; the stillness and emptiness of a house where children have +been, and are not.</p> + +<p class="normal">It made her shiver slightly as she stood alone, thinking of the +dogcart wheels.</p> + +<p class="normal">Yet just at the back of the screen of poinsettias and oleanders which +hid the servants' quarters from the creeper-hung porch there were +children and to spare. Dozens of them, all ages, all sizes, belonging +to the posse of followers which hangs to the skirts of bureaucracy in +India.</p> + +<p class="normal">Here, as the lights of the dogcart flashed by, they lit up for an +instant a quaint little group gathered round a rushlight set on the +ground. It consisted of a very old man, almost naked, with a grey +frost of beard on his withered cheeks, and of a semicircle of +wide-eyed, solemn-faced, brown babies--toddlers of two and three, with +a sprinkling of demure little maidens of four and five.</p> + +<p class="normal">The centre of the group lay beside the rushlight. It was a rudimentary +attempt at a rag doll; so rudimentary indeed that as the passing flash +of the lamps disclosed its proportions, or rather the lack of them, a +titter rose from the darkness behind, where some older folk were +lounging.</p> + +<p class="normal">The old doll-maker, who was attempting to thread a big packing-needle +by the faint flicker, turned towards the sound in mild reproof: "Lo! +brothers and sisters," he said, "have patience awhile. Even the +Creator takes time to make His puppets, and this of mine will be as +dolls are always when it is done. And a doll is a doll ever, nothing +more, nothing less."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yet thou art sadly behind the world in them, <i>babajee</i>," put in a +pale young man, with a pen-box under his arm, who had paused on his +way to the cook-room, whither he was going to write up the daily +account for the butler; since a man must live even if he has a +University degree, and, if Government service be not forthcoming, must +earn a penny or two as best he can. "That sort of image did for the +dark ages of ignorance, but now the mind must have more reality; glass +eyes and such like. The world changes."</p> + +<p class="normal">The old man's face took an almost cunning expression by reason of its +self-complacent wisdom. "But not the puppets which play in it, my son. +The Final One makes <i>them</i> in the same mould ever; as I do my dolls, +as my fathers made theirs. Ay! and thine too, <i>babajee!</i> As for eyes, +they come with the sight that sees them, since all things are +illusion. For the rest"--here he shot a glance of fiery disdain at the +titterers--"I make not dolls for these scoffers, but for their +betters. This is for the little masters on their Big Day. To-morrow I +will present it to the <i>sahib</i> and the <i>mem</i>, since the little +<i>sahibs</i> themselves are away over the Black Water. For old Premoo +knows what is due. This dust-like one, lame of a leg and blind of an +eye, has not always been a garden coolie--a mere picker of weeds, a +gatherer of dried leaves, saved from starvation by such trivial tasks. +In his youth Premoo hath carried young masters in his bosom, and +guarded them night and day after the manner of bearers. And hath found +amusement for them also; even to the making of dolls as this one. Ay! +it is true," he went on, led to garrulous indignation by renewed +sounds of mirth from behind; "dolls which gave them delight, for they +were not as some folk, black of face, but <i>sahib logue</i> who, by God's +grace, grew to be <i>ginerâls</i> and <i>jedges</i>, and commissioners, and--and +even <i>Lât-sahibs</i>."</p> + +<p class="normal">The old voice, though it rose in pitch with each rise in rank, was not +strong enough to overbear the titter, and the doll-maker paused in +startled doubt to look at his own creation.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I can see naught amiss," he muttered to himself; "it is as I used to +make them, for sure." His anxious critical eye lingered almost +wistfully over the bald head, the pincushion body, the sausage limbs +of his creature, yet found no flaw in it; since fingers and toes were +a mere detail, and as for hair, a tuft of wool would settle that +point. What more could folk want, sensible folk, who knew that a doll +must be always a doll--nothing more, nothing less?</p> + +<p class="normal">Suddenly a thought came to make him put doubt to the test, and he +turned to the nearest of the solemn-faced, wide-eyed semicircle of +babies.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Thou canst dandle it whilst I thread the needle, Gungi," he said +pompously, "but have a care not to injure the child, and let not the +others touch it."</p> + +<p class="normal">The solemnity left one chubby brown face, and one pair of chubby brown +hands closed in glad possession round the despised rag doll. Old +Premoo heaved a sigh of relief.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Said I not so, brothers and sisters?" he cried exultingly. "My hand +has not lost its art with the years. A doll is a doll ever to a child, +as a child is a child ever to the man and the woman. As for glass +eyes, they are illusion--they perish!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Nevertheless, thou wilt put clothes to it, for sure, brother," +remonstrated the fat butler, who had joined the group, "ere giving it +to the Presences. 'Tis like a skinned fowl now, and bare decent."</p> + +<p class="normal">Premoo shook his head mournfully. "Lo! <i>khângee</i>, my rags, as thou +seest, scarce run to a big enough body and legs! And the <i>Huzoor's</i> +tailor would give no scraps to Premoo the garden coolie; though in the +old days, when the little masters lay in these arms, and there was +favour to be carried by the dressing of dolls, such as he were ready +to make them, male and female, kings and queens, fairies and heroes, +<i>mem-sahibs</i> and <i>Lât-sahibs</i> after their kind. But it matters not in +the end, <i>khânjee</i>, it matters not! The doll is a doll ever to a +child, as a child is a child ever to the man and the woman, though +they know not whether it will wear a crown or a shroud."</p> + +<p class="normal">So as Christmas Eve passed into Christmas night, Premoo stitched away +contentedly as he sat under the stars. There was no Christmas message +in them for the old man. The master's Big Day meant nothing to him +save an occasion for the giving of gifts, notably rag dolls! There was +no vision for him in the velvet darkness of the spangled sky of angels +proclaiming the glad tidings of birth; and yet in a way his old heart, +wise with the dim wisdom which long life brings, held the answer to +the great Problem, as in vague self-consolation for the titterings he +murmured to himself now and again: "It is so always; naught matters +but the children, and the children's children."</p> + +<p class="normal">And when his task was over, he laid the result for safety on the +basket of withered leaves which he had swept up from the path that +evening, and wrapping himself in his thin cotton shawl, lay down to +sleep in the shelter of the poinsettia and oleander hedge.</p> + +<p class="normal">So, the Christmas sun peering through the morning mists shone upon a +quaint <i>crèche</i> indeed--on the veriest simulacrum of a child lying on +a heap of faded red hand-like leaves and white star-like blossoms. +Perhaps it smiled at the sight. Humanity did, anyhow, as it passed and +repassed from the servants' quarters to its work in the house. For in +truth old Premoo's creation looked even more comical in the daylight +than it had by the faint flicker of the lamp. There was something +about it productive of sheer mirth, yet of mirth that was tender. Even +the fat butler, on his way to set breakfast, stopped to giggle +foolishly in its face.</p> + +<p class="normal">"God knows what it is like," he said finally. "I deemed it was a +skinned fowl last night, but 'tis not that. It might be anything."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ay!" assented the bearer, who had come out, duster in hand. "That is +just where it comes. A body cannot say what it might or might not be. +Bala Krishna himself, for aught I know." Whereupon he salaamed; and +others passing followed suit, in jest at first, afterwards with a +suspicion of gravity in their mirth, since, when all was said and +done, who knew what anything was really in this illusory world?</p> + +<p class="normal">So the rag doll held its levée that Christmas morning, and when the +time came for its presentation to the <i>Huzoors</i> there were curious +eyes watching the old man as he sate with his offering on the lowest +step of the silent, empty house, waiting for the master and mistress +to come out into the verandah. Premoo had covered the doll's bed of +withered flowers with some fresh ones, so it lay in pomp in its +basket, amid royal scarlet and white and gold; nevertheless he waited +till the very last, until the smallest platter of sugar and oranges +and almonds had been ranged at the master's feet, ere he crept up the +steps, salaaming humbly, yet with a vague confidence on his old face.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It is for the child-people," he said, in his cracked old voice. "This +dust-like one has nothing else, but a doll is always a doll to them, +as a child is a child to the man and the woman."</p> + +<p class="normal">Then for an instant the rag doll lay, as it were, in state, surrounded +by offerings. But not for long. Some one laughed, then another, till +even old Premoo joined doubtfully in the general mirth.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The devil is in it," chuckled the fat butler, apologetically; "but +the twelve <i>Imâms</i> themselves would not keep grave over it during the +requiem!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"By Jove, Laura," cried George Langford, "we must really send that +home to the kids. It's too absurd!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes," she assented, a trifle absently, "we must indeed." She stopped +to take the quaint travesty from its basket, and as she did so one of +the red hands of the poinsettias clung to its sausage legs. She +brushed the flower aside with a smile which broadened to a laugh; for +in truth the thing was more ludicrously comical than ever seen thus, +held in mid-air. George Langford found it so, anyhow, and exploded +into a fresh guffaw.</p> + +<p class="normal">She flushed suddenly, and gathered the unshapen thing in her arms as +if to hide it from his laughter.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't, George," she said, "it--it seems unkind. Thank you, Premoo, +very much. We will certainly send it home to the little masters; and +they, I am sure--" Here her eyes fell upon the doll again, and mirth +got the better of her gravity once more.</p> + +<p class="normal">Half-an-hour afterwards, however, as she stood alone in the +drawing-room, ready dressed for her drive, the gravity had returned as +she looked down on the quaint monstrosity spread out on the table, +where on the evening before the rose-shaded lamp had been. It was +ridiculous, certainly, but beneath that there was something else. What +was it? What had the old man said: "A doll is always a doll...." He +had said that and something more: "As the child is always a child to +the man and the woman." It ought to be--but was it? Was not that tie +forgotten, lost sight of in others ... sometimes?</p> + +<p class="normal">Half mechanically she took the rag doll, and sitting down on a +rocking-chair laid the caricature on her lap among the dainty frills +and laces of her pretty gown. And this was Christmas Day--the +children's day--she thought vaguely, dreamily, as she rocked herself +backwards and forwards slowly. But the house was empty save for +this--this idea, like nothing really in heaven or earth; yet for all +that giving the Christmas message, the message of peace and goodwill +which the birth of a child into the world should give to the man and +the woman:--</p> + +<p class="normal">"Unto us a child is born."</p> + +<p class="normal">She smiled faintly--the thing on her lap seemed so far from such a +memory--and then, with that sudden half-remorseful pity, she once more +gathered the rag doll closer in her arms, as if to shield it from her +own laughter.</p> + +<p class="normal">And as she sate so, her face soft and kind, her husband coming into +the room behind her, paused at what he saw. And something that was not +laughter surged up in him; for he understood in a flash, understood +once and for all, how empty his house had been to her, how empty her +arms, how empty her life.</p> + +<p class="normal">He crossed to her quickly, but she was on her feet almost defiantly at +the first sight of him. "Ridiculous monster!" she exclaimed, gaily +tossing the doll back on the table. "But it has an uncanny look about +it which fascinates one. Gracious! Where are my gloves? I must have +left them in my room, and I promised to be ready at eleven!"</p> + +<p class="normal">When she had gone to look for them, George Langford took up the rag +doll in his turn--took it up gingerly, as men take their babies--and +stared at it almost fiercely. And he stood there, stern, square, +silent, staring at it until his wife came back. Then he walked up to +her deliberately and laid his hands on hers.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm going to pack this thing up at once, my dear," he said, "and take +it over this morning to little Mrs. Greville. She starts this +afternoon, you know, to catch the Messageries steamer. She'll take it +home for us; and so the boys could have it by the Christmas mail, +which I forgot."</p> + +<p class="normal">The words were commonplace, but there was a world of meaning in the +tone.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I--I thought you were busy," she said indistinctly, after a pause in +which the one thing in the world seemed to her that tightening hold +upon her hand. "If you are--I--I could go...."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was another pause--a longer one.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I thought you were going out," he said at last, and his voice, though +distinct, was not quite steady; "but if you aren't, we might go +together. My work can easily stand over, and--and Campbell can drive +you out some other day when I can't."</p> + +<p class="normal">She gave an odd little sound between a laugh and a sob.</p> + +<p class="normal">"That would be best, perhaps," she said. "I'd like the boys to have +this"--she laid her other hand tenderly on the rag doll--"by the +Christmas mail I had forgotten."</p> + +<p class="normal">Old Premoo was sweeping up the withered leaves and flowers from the +poinsettia and oleander hedge, when first one and then another high +dogcart drove past him. And when the second one had disappeared, he +turned to the general audience on the other side of the hedge, and +said with great pride and pomp--</p> + +<p class="normal">"Look you! The scoffers mocked at my doll, but the <i>Huzoors</i> +understand. The <i>sahib</i> himself has taken it to send to the little +<i>sahibs</i>, and the <i>mem</i> packed it up herself and went with him, +instead of going in the Captain <i>sahib's</i> dogcart. That is because a +doll is always a doll; as for glass eyes and such like, they perish."</p> + +<p class="normal">And with that he crushed a handful of withered red poinsettias into +the rubbish basket triumphantly.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="div1_tree" href="#div1Ref_tree">THE SKELETON TREE</a></h2> +<br> + +<p class="normal">The engine was conscientiously climbing to the level plateau which +stretches between Bhopal and Bandakui, when I heard this story.</p> + +<p class="normal">Ten minutes before, apparently for no other purpose save to supply the +first-class passengers with their early cup of tea, the mail train had +stopped at a desolate little station which consisted of a +concrete-arched, oven-like shed, made still more obtrusively unfitted +for the wilderness in which it stood by a dejected bottle-gourd +striving to climb up it.</p> + +<p class="normal">Here a wistful-faced old man in spotless white raiment had appeared in +the dawn with a tray of tea and toast. There were four cups of tea and +only two passengers; myself and a man who had already been asleep on +one side of the carriage when I took possession of the other at +Bhopal. So we saw each other for the first time as we sate up in our +sleeping suits among our blankets and pillows. As the train moved on, +in a series of dislocations which sent half my tea into my saucer, we +left the wistful old face looking at the two unsold cups of tea +regretfully, and I wished I had bought the lot. It seemed such a +pathetic group to leave there in the wilderness, backed by a European +oven and a climbing gourd.</p> + +<p class="normal">And it was a wilderness. Miles and miles of it all the same. Piles of +red rocks, blackened on the upper surface, scattered, as if they had +been shot from a cart, among dry bents and stunted bushes; curious +bushes with a plenitude of twig and a paucity of leaf. Here and there +was a still more stunted tree with a paucity of both: a rudimentary +tree, splay, gouty, with half-a-dozen or so of kidney-shaped lobes in +place of foliage, parched, dusty, unwholesome.</p> + +<p class="normal">Not a level country, but one dented into causeless dells, raised into +irrelevant hillocks; both, however, trending almost imperceptibly +upwards, so that the eye, deceived by this, imagined greater things on +the horizon.</p> + +<p class="normal">But there was nothing. Only here and there a bigger patch of charred +and blackened bents, telling where a spark from a passing train had +found a wider field for fire than usual, unchecked by the piles of red +rocks. That, then, was the secret of their blackened surface.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was too still in that hot windless dawn for flame, but as we sped +on, we added to the dull trails of smoke creeping slowly among the +stones and bushes, each with a faint touch of fire showing like an eye +to the snaky curves behind. A sinister-looking landscape, indeed, to +unaccustomed eyes like mine. I sate watching those stealthy, +fire-tipped fingers in the grass, till at a curve in the line, due to +a steeper rise, I saw something. "What on earth's that?" I cried +involuntarily.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What's what?" returned my unknown companion, in such a curious tone +of voice that, involuntarily, I turned to him for a moment.</p> + +<p class="normal">"That--that tree I suppose it is," I began; "but look for yourself."</p> + +<p class="normal">I turned back to the sight which had startled me, and gave a low gasp. +It was gone. On more level ground we were steaming quickly past a very +ordinary dent of a dell, where, as usual, one of these stunted +rudimentary trees stood on an open patch of dry bents, seamed and +seared by fire trails.</p> + +<p class="normal">I looked at my companion incredulously. "What an extraordinary thing!" +I exclaimed. "I could have sworn that I saw--" I paused from sheer +astonishment.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What?" asked the other passenger, curiously.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What?" I echoed. "That is just the question. It looked like a tree--a +skeleton tree. Absolutely white, with curved ribs of branches--and +there were tongues of flame." I paused again, looking out on what we +were passing. "It must, of course," I continued, "have been some +curious effect of light on that stunted tree yonder. Its branches +<i>are</i> curved like ribs, and, if you notice, the bark <i>is</i> lighter."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Exactly," assented my companion. Then he told me a long botanical +name, and pointed out that there were many such trees or bushes in the +low jungle, all distinctly to be seen against the darker kinds, +distinctly but not blindingly like that curious effect of dawn-light I +had seen.</p> + +<p class="normal">I had, however, almost forgotten my vision, as, thus started, we +talked over our tea, when he suddenly said, "Going on to Agra, I +suppose?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No," I replied, "I'm globe-trotting for sport. I'm going to spend +all I can of my return-ticket in these jungles after leopard and +tiger. I hear it's first-class if you don't mind letting yourself +go--getting right away from the beaten track and all that. I mean to +get hold of a jungle tribe if I can--money's no object, and--"</p> + +<p class="normal">I ran on, glad to detail plans for what had been a long-cherished +dream of mine, when my companion arrested me by the single word--</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't."</p> + +<p class="normal">It was in consequence of my surprise that he told me the following +story:--</p> + +<p class="normal">"I surveyed this railway ten years ago. The country was very much the +same as it is now, except that it was all, naturally, off the beaten +track. There were two of us in camp together, Graham and myself. He +was a splendid chap; keen as mustard on everything. It did not matter +what it was. So that one day, when he and I were working out levels +after late breakfast, he jumped up like a shot--just as if he had not +been tramping over these cursed rubbish shoots of red rocks for six +hours--at the sound of a feeble whimpering near the cook-room tent.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'That devil of yours is at it again,' he said, 'and I won't have it, +that's all!'</p> + +<p class="normal">"As he went off I followed, for I did not relish Graham's justice when +it disabled the cook.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But this time I owned that the brute deserved punishment, for a more +forlorn little tragedy than that which was being enacted among the +pots and pans I never saw.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mohubbut Khan, chief villain, was seated--naked to the waist, bald as +to head, after the manner of native cooks at work, on a low reed +stool, brandishing a knife in one hand, while the other held a +skrawking leggy white cock.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Exactly in front of him was a group more suggestive of monkeys +than men. It consisted of a very old man, wizened, bandy-legged, +bandy-armed, whose white teeth showed in animal perfection as he +howled, and a child of the same build, clinging to him convulsively, +all legs, and arms, and shrieks.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Between them and the cook stood Graham. He was a big fellow; fair as +you are. In fact you are rather like him. There was a moment's pause, +during which the old anatomy's voice rose in plaintive howls of +resignation.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Lo! sonling, be comforted. Death comes to all, even to white cocks. +It is but a few years. And grand-dad will hatch another. It is a +sacrifice. Sacrifice to the <i>sahib logue</i> who bring death as they +choose!'</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, it turned out, of course, to be a case of wanton cruelty. It +always is. For hopeless inability to be considerate commend me to a +native jack-in-office. There were fifty other fowls in the +neighbouring village, but nothing would serve the underling whose duty +it was to collect supplies, but that this wretched child's pet should +serve for the <i>Huzoor's</i> dinner. The old man's joy when it was +released was purely pitiable. He would have reared another for his +grandson, he asserted garrulously; ay! even to the hatching of an egg +from the very beginning, with toil by day and night. But only the +Great God knew if the child's heart would have gone out to the chick +as it had to the cock, for the heart was capricious. It was not to be +counted upon, since the Great God made some men, yea! even some +<i>Huzoors</i>, different from others. He looked from Graham to me as he +spoke, and somehow I felt small. So as Graham was evidently master of +the situation, I slunk back to my work.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There were sounds of woe thereinafter from the cook-room tent, and +Graham himself supervised the dinner that night, in order, he +explained somewhat apologetically, that I might not suffer from his +conceptions of duty.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It was two days after this, and we had shifted camp fifteen miles, +when, having occasion to go into Graham's tent after dark, I stumbled +over some one sitting among the corner tent-pegs. It was the grandpapa +of the white cock, and he explained to me in his lingo--for he was one +of the jungle people--that he had come in exchange for that precious +bird. One life or another mattered little. Grim-<i>sahib</i> had spared the +child's heart's joy, which was now living with him in the maternal +mansion. There being, therefore, no necessity for the occupation of +hatching eggs, he, Bunder--yea! of a surety, it was the same name as +that of the monkey people--had come to do service to the <i>Huzoors</i> +instead of the white cock.</p> + +<p class="normal">"That was absolutely all I could get out of him. So for days and weeks +he followed us. He was useful in his way, especially to Graham, who +had a passion not only for sport, but for all sorts of odd knowledge."</p> + +<p class="normal">I remember interrupting here that that was half the pleasure of new +surroundings, to which my fellow-traveller replied drily that he had +expected I would say so, as I really reminded him very much of Graham.</p> + +<p class="normal">"This passion of his, however, led him into being a bit reckless, and +as the hot weather came on he began to get touched up by fever. Still, +he continued working during the off days, and seemed little the worse +until one evening when he went to bed with the shivers after a leopard +hunt. Then old Bunder crept over to my tent.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Grim-<i>sahib</i> must go home across the Black Water at once, <i>Huzoor</i>,' +he said quietly, 'or his bones will whiten the jungle. He has seen the +Skeleton Tree.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"That was, in essence, all he had to say, though his explanations were +lengthy. It was simply a Skeleton Tree, and it was always seen where +fire fingers met; but those who saw it became skeletons in the jungle +before long unless they possessed a certain talisman. There were such +talismans among the hill tribes, and those who fell sick of fever +always wore one if they could compass it. That was not often, since +they were rare. He himself had one, but what use was it when life, +from old age, had become no more worth than a white cock's? So his +grandson wore it; wore it as he fed the joy of his heart peacefully in +the ancestral home; thanks to Grim-<i>sahib!</i></p> + +<p class="normal">"'But how do you know he saw the Tree?' I asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'It was when we had crawled up nigh the end of a dip, <i>Huzoor</i>,' +replied Bunder. 'He looked up and said, "What's that?" And when I +asked him what he had seen, he said: "It is gone. It must have been +that stunted tree. But it looked like a skeleton, and there were fire +fingers round it." So I knew. Send him home, <i>Huzoor</i>, away from its +power, or his bones will whiten the jungle.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"During the following days I really began--though I'm not an +imaginative chap--to feel a bit queer about things. Graham couldn't +shake off his fever, and more than once when he was delirious in the +evenings he would startle me by saying, 'What's that?' But he would +laugh the next moment, and add, 'Only a tree, of course; it was the +light.'</p> + +<p class="normal">"There was no doctor within miles; and, besides, it was not really +such a bad case as all that. At least it didn't seem so to me or to +Graham himself. Only to old Bunder, who became quite a nuisance with +his warnings, so that I was glad when, after a confused rigmarole +about white cocks and sacrifices, he disappeared one day and was seen +no more. Partly, perhaps, because we moved back to a higher camp in +the hopes of escaping the malaria.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But we didn't. Graham grew appreciably worse. He was fairly well by +day; it was at night that the fever seemed to grip him. I used to sit +up with him till twelve or one o'clock, and then turn in till about +dawn, when the servants had orders to call me, and I would go over and +see after him again.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But one day, or rather night, it was still quite dark when my bearer +roused me with his persistent drone of '<i>Saheeb, saheeb!</i>' and I knew +in an instant something was wrong. Graham, shortly after I left him, +had got out of bed, dressed himself in his shikar clothes, taken his +gun, and gone away from the camp. His bearer, a lad whom he had +promoted to the place in one of his impulsive generous fits of revolt +against things unjustifiable, had failed to take alarm until his +master's prolonged absence had made him seek and rouse my man. The +latter was full of apologies; but what else, he protested, could be +expected of babes and sucklings promoted out of due season? The babe +and suckling meanwhile was blubbering incoherently, and asserting that +he was not to blame. The <i>sahib</i> had called for Bunder and Bunder had +come; and they had gone off together.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Bunder?' I exclaimed. 'Impossible! He hasn't been near the camp for +days. Did any one else see him?' But no one had. And as there was no +time to be lost in inquiries I dismissed the idea as an attempt on the +boy's part to relieve himself from responsibility, and organised the +whole camp into a search party.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It was a last-quarter moon, and I shall never forget the eeriness of +that long, fruitless search. At first I kept calling 'Graham, Graham!' +but after a time I felt this to be useless, and that he must be either +unconscious, or delirious, or determined to keep out of our way. So I +pushed on and on in silence, through the bushes and bents, expecting +the worst. But after all it was the best. We found him at dawn lying +under one of those stunted trees fast asleep. So sound asleep that he +did not wake when we carried him back to camp on a litter of boughs. +So sound that it was not until the afternoon, when he stirred and +asked for beef-tea, that I discovered he wore round his neck a plaited +cord of dirty red silk with a small bag attached to it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'How the deuce did that come there?' he asked drowsily, putting his +hand up to feel it. How, indeed? He could never explain; and the bag +held nothing but a bit of blank paper folded into four. He took the +thing to England with him when he went home on sick leave the next +month, and so far as I know is no wiser than he was then as to how it +came round his neck."</p> + +<p class="normal">Here my fellow-traveller paused, as a whistle from the engine told we +were pulling up again. "Well," I said, a trifle plaintively, "but why +should not I?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He was already standing on the platform among a miscellaneous pile of +belongings, such as Indian travellers delight to carry about with +them, ere he replied:--</p> + +<p class="normal">"Good-by. Glad to have met you--for you remind me awfully of Graham!"</p> + +<p class="normal">I sometimes wonder if I should have taken his warning seriously or +treated it as a traveller's tale. As it was, I had not the chance of +testing its truth. For, at my destination, I found a telegram +recalling me to England on urgent business. So, beyond that passing +glimpse of the Skeleton Tree, I have no experience.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> + +<h3>FOOTNOTES</h3> +<br> +<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_01" href="#div4Ref_01">Footnote 1</a>: <i>Ghâzie</i>--religious fanatic.</p> +<br> +<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_02" href="#div4Ref_02">Footnote 2</a>: The natives call Freemasonry Lodges by this name.</p> +<br> +<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_03" href="#div4Ref_03">Footnote 3</a>: The Mutiny.</p> +<br> +<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_04" href="#div4Ref_04">Footnote 4</a>: Violet.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's In the Guardianship of God, by Flora Annie Steel + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE GUARDIANSHIP OF GOD *** + +***** This file should be named 39795-h.htm or 39795-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/7/9/39795/ + +Produced by Charles Bowen. from page scans provided by +Google Books (Harvard University) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: In the Guardianship of God + +Author: Flora Annie Steel + +Release Date: May 25, 2012 [EBook #39795] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE GUARDIANSHIP OF GOD *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Bowen. from page scans provided by +Google Books (Harvard University) + + + + + + + + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + + 1. Page scan source: + http://books.google.com/books?id=uj6lOyePLCYC + (Harvard University) + + 2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe]; "a" with a macron + above by [=a] + + + + + + In the Guardianship of God + + + + + + + In the Guardianship + + of God + + + + + BY + + FLORA ANNIE STEEL + + AUTHOR OF "ON THE FACE OF THE WATERS," "VOICES OF + THE NIGHT," "HOSTS OF THE LORD," ETC. + + + + + + New York + + THE MACMILLAN COMPANY + + LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., Ltd. + + 1903 + + _All rights reserved_ + + + + + + + Copyright, 1908, + By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY + + * * * + + Set up, electrotyped, and published May, 1903. + + + + + + Norwood Press + J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith Co. + Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. + + + + + CONTENTS + + + In the Guardianship of God. + + A Bad-character Suit. + + Fire and Ice. + + The Shahbash Wallah. + + The Most Nailing Bad Shot in Creation. + + The Reformer's Wife. + + The Squaring of the Gods. + + The Keeper of the Pass. + + The Perfume of the Rose. + + Little Henry and his Bearer. + + The Hall of Audience. + + In a Fog. + + Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh. + + Surabhi. + + On the Old Salt Road. + + The Doll-maker. + + The Skeleton Tree. + + + + + IN THE GUARDIANSHIP OF GOD + + +"Dittu Sansi, aged twenty-one, theft, six months," read out the +overseer of the gaol, who was introducing a batch of new arrivals to +the doctor in charge of a large gaol in the Upper Provinces of India. +It was early morning. Outside the high mud walls, which looked like +putty and felt like rock, the dew was frosting the grass in the garden +where a few favoured criminals were doing the work of oxen for the +well-wheel, and turning the runnels of fresh water to the patches of +spinach and onion. But here, inside the gaol square, everything had +the parched, arid look of sun-baked mud. Not a speck was to be seen +anywhere; the very prisoners themselves, standing in a long line +awaiting inspection, with their dust-coloured blankets folded upon the +ground in front of them, looked like darker clay images waiting to be +put on their pedestals. There was a touch of colour, however, close to +the arched gateway. First, a red-turbaned warder or two, guarding the +wicket; then half-a-dozen constables in yellow trousers, and a +deputy-inspector of police smart in silver laces and fringes; finally +the gaol _darogah_, or overseer, a stoutish, good-looking Mahomedan +with a tendency to burst out, wherever it was possible, into gay +muslin, and decorate the edges of his regulation white raiment with +fine stitchings. These, with a nondescript group fresh from the +lock-up, were gathered about the plain deal table set in full sunlight +where the Doctor sate, ticking off each arrival on the roster. He +matched the gaol, being dressed from head to foot in dust-coloured +drill, with a wide pith hat which might have been carved out of the +putty walls. + +"All right, _Darogah_," he said with a yawn. "Number five hundred and +seven. Go on,--what's the matter?" + +Shurruf Deen, the Overseer, was looking intently at the paper in his +hand, and the rich brown of his complacent face seemed to have faded a +little. "Nothing, _Huzoor_," he replied glibly enough, though a quick +observer might have seen the muscles of his brown throat labouring +over the syllables. "The list is badly written, in the broken +character. Thou shouldst speak to the clerk in thine office, +Inspector-_jee_; this name is almost illegible." + +"'Tis Shureef, clear enough, _Darogah-jee_," dissented the Inspector, +huffily; "and I should have thought it fits thine own name too close +for--" + +"Shureef," read out Shurruf, the Overseer, brusquely, "Shureef, Khoja, +thirty-five, lurking house trespass by night, habitual offender, ten +years." + +The Doctor looked up sharply. Ten years meant business; one can teach +a lot in ten years--carpet-weaving, wood-carving, pottery-making--and +the Doctor's hobby was his gaol. What he saw was a man, looking many +years older than his age, haggard and grey, yet despite this with a +lightness and suppleness in every limb. Though this figure was lean +where the Overseer was fat, wrinkled where the Overseer showed smooth, +there was a similarity in the rich colour of their skins, in the +regularity of their features, which made the Englishman turn to look +at the _Darogah_ with the mental remark that the race-characteristics +of India were very instructive; for Shurruf was a Khoja also. "All +right," said the Doctor. "Number five hundred and eight." + +"Five hundred and eight," repeated the habitual offender, calmly. "I +will not forget. Salaam, _Huzoor!_ Salaam, _Darogah-jee!_" + +"Do you know the man?" asked the Doctor quickly of his subordinate; he +was sharp as a needle, and there had been a note in the salutation +which he did not understand. + +"He was in for two years when I was sub-overseer at Loodhiana, +_Huzoor_," replied Shurruf, imperturbably. "He gave much trouble +there; he will not here, since the Doctor-_sahib_ knows how to manage +such as he." + +Once more there was an undertone, but the Doctor's attention was +riveted by the adroit flattery, and he rose to begin his inspection +with a smile. It was true; he did know how to manage a gaol, and there +could not possibly be any cause for complaint when he was there to +apportion each ounce of food scientifically, to rout every germ, every +microbe, and treat even contumacy as a disease. The five hundred and +odd prisoners were, as it were, the Doctor's chessmen. He marshalled +them this way and that, checkmating their vile souls and bodies while +they were in his care. If they passed out of it into their own, he +took no heed. They might make what they liked of themselves. But if +they died, and, as the phrase runs, chose the Guardianship of God, he +buried them temporarily in the gaol graveyard with all possible +sanitary precautions, against the time when relations or friends might +appear to claim the corpse. There was no official regulation as to the +limit of time within which such claim could be preferred; but as a +dead body remains in the special Guardianship of God for a year, it +was an understood thing that man should take over the task before the +Almighty gave up the job; it was more satisfactory, especially if the +corpse was a Hindu and had to be burned. As for the Doctor, he would +have preferred to burn the lot, Hindu and Mahomedan alike; failing +that, he--took precautions. + +As he walked down the line rapidly his sharp eye noted every detail, +and Shurruf Deen had many a swift, probing question to answer. He +answered them, however, as swiftly, for he was the best gaoler +conceivable; so good that even the Doctor allowed that he was almost +capable of managing the gaol himself. A man of unimpeachable +character, he had yet a curious insight into the minds of the +criminals he guarded, and a singular tact in managing them, so that +his record of continual rise in the world seemed likely to lengthen +itself by an appointment to the most important gaolership in the +Province. Shurruf Deen was working all he knew to secure this, and +therefore, as he followed the Doctor, his keen, bold eyes were +everywhere forestalling the possibility of blame. They fell, among +other things, on Shureef's thin, somewhat bowed figure, as it was +marched off to be shaved, washed, manacled, and dressed to pattern. +Then they turned almost mechanically to the paper he still held. +_Shureef Deen, Khoja--ten years' hard--three months' solitary_. He +gave a faint sigh of relief. Solitary confinement, even when broken up +by philanthropy into blocks of a week, gave time. It meant many +ameliorations to a prisoner's lot which would be unsafe amid the ruck. +Besides no man, he told himself, would be fool enough to risk losing +these favours simply to spite another man. + +He repeated this thought aloud that same evening, after lights were +out, and the silence of solitary cells lay all over the gaol, save in +one of the latter, where Shurruf sate whispering to Shureef. In the +utter darkness the curious similarity of the place to a wild beast's +cage, with its inner grating-barred cubicle and its outer high-walled +yard let open to the sky, was lost, and the two men might have been +anywhere. Shurruf, however, sate on the millstones, as being more +suited to his figure, while Shureef crouched on the ground beside the +little heap of corn he was bound to give back ounce for ounce in flour +and bran. And as he crouched, leaning listlessly against the wall, his +supple hand moved among the wheat raising it idly, and as idly letting +it slip back through his thin fingers. + +"Fate!" he echoed to something the other said; "nay, 'twas not Fate, +brother, which sent me to thy gaol. I was hard pressed; I am growing +old for the life; it kills men soon. The police would have had me in +the big _dacoity_ case at Delhi despite all; so I bungled one farther +north, to come--where thou wast--brother." + +"And thou didst right," assented Shurruf, eagerly; "I can make things +easy for thee." + +The wheat slipped with a soft patter, like rain, through Shureef's +fingers. "'Twas not that either which brought me to thy gaol. Listen. +I am far through this life, but another begins. I am not going to +plead _guilty_ there. It is _not guilty_ there, _not guilty_ on the +first count, _not guilty_ as a lad of fifteen for theft--" He paused, +then a faint curiosity came to his listlessness and he looked at the +half-seen figure beside him--"and such a theft! I--I have not done so +mean a one--since--" + +Shurruf moved uneasily. "Mayhap not; boys do things men do not. And I +have always--yea! thou knowest it--upheld thee better than some think. +What then? Thy life is past amendment now, save for tobacco and such +like; and these I will give, if thou art wise, for the ten years--" + +"I shall not live three months of the ten years, brother," interrupted +Shureef, calmly; and at the words a pang of regret that the solitary +confinement could not be inflicted straight on end shot through +Shurruf's breast, killing the faint remorse the remark had awakened; +it would have simplified matters so much to have Shureef safe from the +possibility of tale-bearing for those three months. "And, as I said, I +want none of these things," went on Shureef; "I only want the truth. +Promise to tell it, and I say naught; wilt promise, brother?" + +"No!" whispered Shurruf, fiercely. "What good would it do now?" + +"It would make some mourn for me; it would make more than cursing +follow me; it would be evidence for me, a boy, at the Great Court." + +The sleek face beside the anxious one took a strange expression, half +joy, half fear. "That is fools' talk. Doth not the Lord know, is He +not just?" + +"Yes, He knows," persisted Shureef; "but others must know, else they +will not claim my body, else my grave will not be cooled with tears. +It would not harm thee much, Shurruf. Mayhap 'twould be wiser for thee +not to seek advancement, since one, who might hear if the truth were +told, seeks it also; but if thou stayest in this fat post--" + +"Peace, fool!" interrupted Shurruf, passionately. "I will not. Thou +hast no proof, so do thy worst. Thou canst claim me brother if thou +wilt, naught else--" Shureef bent forward and whispered a name in his +ear, making him start back. "It is not true," he went on rapidly; "he +died long since. Think not I do not understand, that I cannot follow +thy evil thoughts. Have I not watched thee these twenty years? Have I +not seen thee sink, and sink, and sink? Can I not guess thy guile--" + +"Because it should have been thine own, Shurruf," interrupted his +brother in a new tone. "But let that be. It matters not. I asked this +thing of thee that thou mightest do it freely; if not, I take it--for +I can take it now. I give thee a fortnight to consider; till then I +have no more to say, and thy words will be wasted." + +He rose, feeling his way by the wall to the inner cell, and Shurruf, +after pausing a moment uncertainly, stole from the outer one, locking +the door behind him. There were stronger arguments than words at his +command, and he had a fortnight wherein to use them. And use them he +did, unsparingly. The week of solitary confinement which followed, and +the week of work in the general ward, were alternately hell and +comparative heaven; a hell of scant food, work beyond limit, and +punishments; a heaven of tobacco, opium, even a nip of country liquor +now and then; and, as a foretaste of favours to come, there was a day +of work in the gaol-gardens among the cool runnels of water and the +spinach-patches. For the Doctor, having small faith in things beyond +his ken, was dividing the dead who were in the Guardianship of God, +from the living who were in his own; in other words, he was enclosing +a new graveyard beyond the garden, and as this involved work in the +absolute open air, with greater chance of escape, the good-conduct men +from the walled garden were drafted outwards, and their place supplied +from within. But neither fifteen lashes, nor the privilege of smoking +surreptitiously behind a thicket of jasmine and roses, tempted Shureef +from the settled resolve which gave his face a curiously spiritual +look. The Doctor called it something else, and in the private list he +kept of those in his care, put the name of an incurable disease +opposite Shureef's, with this after it: _? three months_--and he did +not try to teach him carpet-weaving or pottery-making. + +The Overseer, however, felt that three months was all too long for +him, when, another week of solitary confinement coming round, he +slipped over in the dead of night to Shureef's cell, and found him +once more fingering the corn idly; but as it was a moonlight night +now, he could see the grains of wheat, shining like gold, slip through +the lean fingers. + +"It is not much I ask, brother," persisted Shureef, almost gently; +"only that the home folk may claim my body when I die. That is why I +came to thy gaol; for they will not, if the truth be not told, and +only thou canst tell it without flaw. True, I can harm thee, but I +have no wish for that. See! I give thee yet another week for thought. +That is three from three months; but I give no more." + +Shurruf Deen went back to his quarters over the big entrance-gate, +where the warders waited on him as if he were a prince, and pondered +over the dilemma in a white heat of indignation. It was so selfish of +Shureef; when God knew, what were a few tears more or less when a man +had deliberately cast away his right to wailing a dozen times over? +What Shureef had said about the first count was true, but what of the +others? What right had he to claim any compensation for that first +injustice? What right had he even to claim commiseration for the +result of a life he had chosen? Yet the Doctor gave it him; he even +ordered him back to the garden after a day or two, with the remark to +the native assistant-surgeon that it was a case of the candle of life +having been burned at both ends. "He might live a year," he said +critically, "but I give him three months; and, of course, he might +drop down dead any day." + +He might; if he only would before the week was out, thought Shurruf, +longingly. It would save so much trouble, for though the whole truth +could easily be shirked, it would scarcely be possible to deny the +relationship, or hush up his own share in the youthful escapade. For +there had been sufficient for him to be dismissed by the magistrate +with a reprimand for keeping bad company; and this, added to the +scandal of a notorious criminal claiming kin to him, would militate +against promotion. If Shureef would only drop down dead! + +He did. The very day before the week was up he was shot in an +organized attempt at escape on the part of five or six prisoners, who +saw their opportunity in the temporary freedom of garden-work. A very +determined attempt it was, involving violence, in which Shurruf gained +fresh laurels by his promptness in ordering the sentry to fire. One +man was wounded in the arm, and broke his leg in falling back from the +wall he was scaling. Shureef was picked up quite dead behind the +thicket of jasmine and rose. As two or three shots had been fired in +that direction, it was possible it might have been an accident, and +that he was not really one of the plotters; on the other hand both +opium and tobacco were found upon him, proof positive that he had +friends in the gaol. And though the warder, who had connived at the +attempt at escape, and now pleaded guilty in the hope of lessening +punishment, swore that Shureef was not in the plot, he had nothing to +reply when Shurruf asked him for the name of any other gaol official +who tampered with his duty. + +"Poor devil!" said the Doctor, musingly, as he finished the necessary +examination. "He was a fool to try--if he did; the run would have +finished him to a certainty. Even the excitement of being in the fun +might have killed him without anything else, for it was worse than I +thought; his heart was mere tissue-paper." + +Once more the Overseer's rich brown skin seemed to fade, though he was +glib enough with his tongue. "He is to be buried tonight?" he asked +easily. + +"The sooner the better. _His_ friends aren't likely to want him back; +but all the same put him in the new yard." The Doctor's hand, as he +drew up the sheet, finally lingered a bit. "If--if he wanted to get +outside, he may as well, poor devil!" + +So in the cool of the evening Shureef, wrapped in a white cloth, was +taken from a solitary cell and given into the Guardianship of God in +the sun-baked patch of earth where he was the first to lie. It was a +desolate patch, bare of everything save a white efflorescence of salt, +showing, as the warder remarked cynically, that it was only fit for +corpses. Not even for them, dissented the diggers, who, with leg-irons +clanking discordantly, lingered over their task while Shureef, a +still, white roll of cloth, waited their pleasure. The soil, they +said, was much harder than in the old place, and if folk were to be +dug up as well as buried--not that any would want the expense of +moving Shureef, whose name was a byword--here the Overseer's portly +figure showed in the adjoining garden, and they hurried on with their +work. + +Shurruf did not come over to the grave, however, perhaps because he +was in a demi-toilet of loose muslin, without his turban, and in +charge of his little son, a pretty child of four, whom the obsequious +gardener had presented with a bunch of jasmine and roses, and who, +after a time becoming bored by his father's interest in the spinach +and onions, drifted on by himself to find something more attractive, +until he came to stand wide-eyed and curious in the mourners' place at +the head of the grave. And there he stood silent, watching the +proceedings and keeping a tight clutch on his flowers, until a hand +from behind, dragging him back passionately, sent a shower of earth +over the edge on to Shureef's body which had just been laid in its +last resting-place, and sent also a bunch of roses and jasmines to lie +close to Shureef's heart, for the child dropped them in his fright. + +"Weep not, my prince!" cried the warder. "Thou shalt have them again. +Here, some one, go down and hand them up." + +But Shurruf, the Overseer, who, with his little son clutched up in his +arms, stood now in the mourners' place, his face almost grey, turned +on the man with a curse. "Let the flowers lie," he said; "there are +plenty more in the garden." So, without another word, he left them to +fill up the grave; and they, having done it, left Shureef with the +flowers on his breast to the Guardianship of God. + +And there he stayed month after month, until the year drew close to +its end. And Shurruf Deen stayed in the gaol, for, after all, the man +whose place he had hoped to get was allowed another year's extension +of service. Perhaps it was the deferred hope which told on the +Overseer's nerves; but certain it is that the passing months brought a +strange look of anxiety to his face. Perhaps it was that, though he +had set aside much, he could not quite set aside the thought of that +bunch of roses and jasmine which his little son's hand had thrown upon +Shureef's breast. Something there was in his mind without a doubt, +which made him, but a few weeks before the Guardianship of God must +end, and before the momentous question of promotion must be decided, +steal out more than once at night to Shureef's solitary grave, as he +had stolen to his solitary cell. But the memory of the still, white +roll of cloth with the flowers upon it, touched him more closely than +the memory of the listless figure letting the wheat-grains slip +through its idle fingers. Why it should have done so it were hard to +say. Fear had something to do with it--sheer superstition that when +the Guardianship of God was over, the uncared-for body might fall into +the keeping of the devil and torment him. Love had its part too; love, +and a vague remorse born more of the chance which had made his little +son chief mourner, than of a sense of personal guilt. Plainly it did +not do to try and escape the tie of kindred altogether. + +So, by degrees, the thought grew that it would indeed be safer for +Shureef to pass into other guardianship before God's ended. He had +asked for nothing, save that his grave might be cooled by tears; if +this could be compassed, surely he ought to be satisfied, ought to +forget everything else and leave his kindred in peace. And it might be +compassed with care. Shureef's mother--not his own, for they had only +been half-brothers--was alive, alive and blind, and poor too, since +his father, stung by his son's disgrace, had sent her back to her own +people. Poor, blind, and a mother! Here was material ready to his +hand. It would not cost half a month's pay, even with the expenses of +moving the body; and then--yes, then, when they were no longer needed, +those flowers, even if they were dust, as they must be, could be taken +away and forgotten. + +It was the anniversary of Shureef's burial, and in the cool of the +evening the clanking leg-irons were once more at work upon his grave; +for, much to the Doctor's disgust, an old woman had put in an +appearance at the last moment with unimpeachable credentials of +relationship and sufficient cash to convey the remains to her village. +There was, as Shurruf, the Overseer, said regretfully, no valid excuse +for refusal, and the Doctor-_sahib_ might rely upon his doing all +things decently and in order, and on strict sanitary principles. +Whereupon the Doctor had smiled grimly, and said that in cases of +resurrection there was safety in extremes. + +Nevertheless, it was the love of horrors, no doubt, which made the +gathering round the opening grave so large. The old woman sate in the +mourners' place, her tears flowing already. The others, however, +talked over probabilities, and told tales of former disinterments with +cheerful realism, while Shurruf Deen bustled backwards and forwards +among his elaborate arrangements. + +They dug down to one side of the original grave after approved +fashion, so that there should be as little disturbance as possible, +and when traces of what was sought showed in a fold of still, white +shroud, extra cloths were sent down, in which, covering as they +exposed, the workmen gradually swathed all that was mortal of the dead +_dacoit_. + +"He hath not lost much weight," said those at the ropes as they +hauled. + +So there the task was done, decently and in order. But Shurruf wanted +something which he knew must still lie within the brand-new shroud, +and, ere they lifted the gruesome bundle to the coffin awaiting it, he +stooped,--then stood up suddenly, grey to the very lips, and crushing +something in his hand, something, so it seemed to those around, pink +and white and green. But his face riveted them. "In the Guardianship +of God," he muttered, "in the Guardianship of God." + +"What is it?" said one to another, as he stood dazed and speechless. +Then they, too, stooped, looked, touched, until, as he had lain when +they found him behind the rose and jasmine thicket, Shureef lay before +them looking more as if he was asleep than dead. + +"_Wah!_" said a voice in the crowd; "he cannot have been so bad as +folk thought him, if the Lord has taken all that care of him." + +Shurruf gave a sort of sob, stepped back, lost his footing on the edge +of the open grave and fell heavily. When they picked him up he was +dead. + +The Doctor, summoned hastily, shook his head. Death must have been +instantaneous, he said; the neck was broken. After which he went over +and looked at Shureef curiously; then stooped down and picked up some +of the earth on which the body lay, earth which had come from the +bottom of the grave. "Look," he said, pointing out minute white +crystals in it to the native assistant; "that's bi-borate of soda. I +knew there was some of it here when I chose this patch. It's a useful +antiseptic; but he has been in a regular mine of it--a curious case of +embalming, isn't it?" + +It certainly was; and it was still more curious that a bunch of fresh +roses and jasmine should have been found on Shurruf Deen the +Overseer's breast, as he lay in Shureef's grave; but, as the Doctor +said, the obsequious gardener had most likely given them to him as he +passed through the spinach and onion patches. And perhaps it was so. + + + + + A BAD-CHARACTER SUIT + + +A flood of blistering, yellow sunshine was pouring down on to the +prostrate body of Private George Afford as he lay on his back, drunk, +in an odd little corner between two cook-room walls in the barrack +square; and a stream of tepid water from a skin bag was falling on his +head as Peroo the _bhisti_ stood over him, directing the crystal curve +now on his forehead, now scientifically on his ears. The only result, +however, was that Private George Afford tried unavailingly to scratch +them, then swore unintelligibly. + +Peroo twisted the nozzle of the _mussuck_ to dryness, and knelt down +beside the slack strength in the dust. So kneeling, his glistening +curved brown body got mixed up with the glistening curved brown +water-bag he carried, until at first sight he seemed a monstrous +spider preying on a victim, for his arms and legs were skinny. + +"_Sahib!_" he said, touching his master on the sleeve. It was a very +white sleeve, and the buttons and belts and buckles all glistened +white or gold in the searching sunlight, for Peroo saw to them, +as he saw to most things about Private Afford's body and soul; +why God knows, except that George Afford had once--for his own +amusement--whacked a man who, for his, was whacking Peroo. He happened +to be one of the best bruisers in the regiment, and George Afford, who +was in a sober bout, wanted to beat him; which he did. + +There was no one in sight; nothing in fact save the walls, and an +offensively cheerful castor-oil bush which grew, greener than any +bay-tree, in one angle, sending splay fingers of shadow close to +Private Afford's head as if it wished to aid in the cooling process. +But despite the solitude, Peroo's touch on the white sleeve was +decorous, his voice deference itself. + +"_Sahib!_" he repeated. "If the _Huzoor_ does not get up soon, the +Captain will find the master on the ground when he passes to rations. +And that is unnecessary." + +He might as well have spoken to the dead. George Afford's face, +relieved of the douche treatment, settled down to placid, contented +sleep. It was not a bad face; and indeed, considering the habits of +the man, it was singularly fine and clear cut; but then in youth it +had evidently been a superlatively handsome one also. + +Peroo waited a minute or two, then undid the nozzle of his skin bag +once more, and drenched the slack body and the dust around it. + +"What a tyranny is here!" he muttered to himself, the wrinkles on his +forehead giving him the perplexed look of a baby monkey; "yet the +master will die of sunstroke if he be not removed. _Hai, Hai!_ What it +is to eat forbidden fruit and find it a turnip." + +With which remark he limped off methodically to the quarter guard and +gave notice that Private George Afford was lying dead drunk between +cook-rooms Nos. 7 and 8; after which he limped on as methodically +about his regular duty of filling the regimental waterpots. What else +was there to be done? The special master whom he had elected to serve +between whiles would not want his services for a month or two at +least, since that period would be spent in clink. For Private George +Afford was a habitual offender. + +Such a very habitual offender, indeed, that Evan Griffiths, the second +major, had not a word to say when the Adjutant and the Colonel +conferred over this last offence, though he had stood Afford's friend +many a time; to the extent even of getting him re-enlisted in India--a +most unusual favour--when, after an interval of discharge, he turned +up at his ex-captain's bungalow begging to be taken on; averring, +even, that he had served his way out to India before the mast in that +hope, since enlistment at the Depot might take him to the other +battalion. The story, so the Adjutant had said, was palpably false; +but the silent little Major had got the Colonel to consent; so Private +George Afford--an ideal soldier to look at--had given the master +tailor no end of trouble about the fit of his uniform, for he was a +bit of a dandy when he was sober. But now even Major Griffiths felt +the limit of forbearance was past; nor could a court-martial be +expected to take into consideration the trivial fact which lay at the +bottom of the observant little Major's mercy, namely, that though when +he was sober George Afford was a dandy, when he was drunk--or rather +in the stage which precedes actual drunkenness--he was a gentleman. +Vulgarity of speech slipped from him then; and even when he was +passing into the condition in which there is no speech he would excuse +his own lapses from strict decorum with almost pathetic apologies. "It +is no excuse, I know, sir," he would say with a charming, regretful +dignity, "but I have had a very chequered career--a very chequered +career indeed." + +That was true; and one of the black squares of the chessboard of life +was his now, for the court-martial which sentenced Private George +Afford to but a short punishment added the rider that he was to be +thereinafter dismissed from Her Majesty's Service. + +"He is quite incorrigible," said the Colonel, "and as we are pretty +certain of going up to punish those scoundrels on the frontier as soon +as the weather cools, we had better get rid of him. The regiment +mustn't have a speck anywhere, and his sort spoils the youngsters." + +The Major nodded. + +So Private George Afford got his dismissal, also the bad-character +suit of mufti which is the Queen's last gift even to such as he. + + + * * * * * + + +It was full six weeks after he had stood beside that prostrate figure +between cook-rooms Nos. 7 and 8 that Peroo was once more engaged in +the same task, though not in the same place. + +And this time the thin stream of water falling on George Afford's face +found it grimed and dirty, and left it showing all too clearly the +traces of a fortnight's debauch. For Peroo, being of a philosophic +mind, had told himself, as he had limped away from the quarter guard +after his report, that now, while his self-constituted master would +have no need of his services, was the time for him to take that leave +home which he had deferred so long. Therefore, two or three days after +this event, he had turned up at the Quartermaster's office with the +curious Indian institution, "the changeling," and preferred his +request for a holiday. It was granted, of course; there is no reason +why leave should not be granted when a double, willing even to answer +to the same name, stands ready to step into the original's shoes, +without payment; that remaining a bargain between the doubles. + +"Here," said Peroo, "is my brother. He is even as myself. His +character is mine. We are all water-carriers, and he has done the work +for two days. I will also leave him my skin bag, so that the Presence +may be sure it is clean. He is a Peroo also." + +He might have been _the_ Peroo so far as the Quartermaster's +requirements went. So the original went home and the copy took his +place; but not for the two months. The order for active service of +which the Colonel had spoken came sooner than was expected, and Peroo, +hearing of it, started back at once for the regiment. A "changeling" +could pass muster in peace, but war required the reality; besides, +the master would, no doubt, be released. He was surely too good +fighting material to be left behind, Peroo told himself; yet there his +hero was, lying in the dust of a bye-alley in the bazaar in a ragged +bad-character suit, while the barrack squares were alive with men, not +half so good to look at, talking, as the mules were laden, of the +deeds they were to do! + +The wrinkles on Peroo's forehead grew more like those of a monkey in +arms than ever. This was indeed a tyranny! but at least the Presence +could be moved out of the burning sun this time without, of necessity, +getting him into more trouble. So a few friends were called, and +together they carried George Afford into the windowless slip of a room +which Peroo locked at four o'clock in the morning and unlocked at ten +at night, but which, nevertheless, served him as a home. There was +nothing in it save a string bed and a drinking vessel; for Peroo, +after his kind, ate his food in the bazaar; but that for the present +was all the Englishman required either. So there Peroo left him in the +darkness and the cool, safe for the day. + +But after that? The problem went with Peroo as he limped about filling +the cook-room waterpots, for on the morrow he must be filling them on +the first camping-ground, fifteen miles away from that slip of a room +where the master lay. What would become of him then? + +The sandy stretches in which the barracks stood were full of mules, +camels, carts, and men of all arms belonging to the small picked force +which was to march with the one solid regiment at dawn on their +mission of punishment. + +"_Pani_ (water)," shouted a perspiring artilleryman, grappling with a +peculiarly obstinate mule, as Peroo went past with his skin bag. +"_Pani_, and bring a real _jildi_ (quickness) along with it. W'ot! you +ain't the drinkin'-water, ain't yer? W'ot's that to me? I ain't one o' +yer bloomin' Brahmins; but I'll take it outside instead o' in, because +of them black-silly's o' the doctor's. So turn on the hose, Johnnie; +I'll show you how." + +"'E knows all about it, you bet," put in one of the regiment +cheerfully. "Wy, 'e's bin hydraulic engineer and waterworks combined +to that pore chap as got the sack the other day--George Afford--" + +"Sure it was a thriflin' mistake wid the prepositions his godfathers +made when they named him; for it was on and not off-erd he was six +days out of sivin," remarked a tall Irishman. + +"You hold your jaw, Pat," interrupted another voice. "'E was a better +chap nor most, w'en 'e wasn't on the lap; and, Lordy! 'e could fight +when he 'ad the chanst--couldn't 'e, Waterworks? Just turn that hose +o' yours my way a bit, will yer?" + +"_Huzoor_," assented Peroo, deferentially; he understood enough to +make the thought pass through his brain that it was a pity the master +had not the chance. Perhaps the curve of water conveyed this to that +other brain beneath the close, fair curls, whence the drops flew +sparkling in the sunlight. At any rate, their owner went on in a +softer tone-- + +"Yes, 'e fit--like fits. Looked, too, as if 'e was born ter die on the +field o' glory, and not in a bad-character suit; but, as the parson +says: 'Beauty is vain. I will repay, saith the Lord.'" + +The confused morality of this passed Peroo by; and yet something not +altogether dissimilar lay behind his wrinkled forehead when, work +over, he returned to the slip of a room and found Afford vaguely +roused by his entrance. + +"I--I am aware it is no possible excuse, sir," came his voice, +curiously refined, curiously pathetic, "but I really have had a very +chequered life, I have indeed." + +"_Huzoor_," acquiesced Peroo, briefly; but even that was sufficient to +bring the hearer closer to realities. He sat up on the string bed, +looked about him stupidly, then sank back again. + +"Get away! you d----d black devil," he muttered, with a sort of +listless anger. "Can't you let me die in peace, you fool? Can't you +let me die in the gutter, die in a bad-character suit? It's all I'm +fit for--all I'm fit for." Voice, anger, listlessness, all tailed away +to silence. He turned away with a sort of sob, and straightway fell +asleep, for he was still far from sober. + +Peroo lit a cresset lamp and stood looking at him. Beauty was +certainly vain here, and if the Lord was going to repay, it was time +He began. Time some one began, at any rate, if the man who had fought +for him, Peroo, was not to carry out his desire of dying in the +gutter--dying in a bad-character suit! The latter misfortune could, +however, be avoided. Things were going cheap in the bazaar that +evening, as was only natural when it was to be deserted for six months +at least, so it ought not to be hard to get the master an exchange for +something more suitable to his beauty, if not to his death. + +Five minutes afterwards George Afford, too much accustomed to such +ministrations to be disturbed by the process of undressing, was still +asleep, his chin resting peacefully on Peroo's best white cotton +shawl, and the bad-character suit was on its way to the pawnshop round +the corner. It was nigh on an hour, however, before Peroo, having +concluded his bargain, came back with it, and by the light of the +cresset set to work appraising his success or failure. A success +certainly. The uniform was old, no doubt, but it was a corporal's; and +what is more, it had three good-conduct stripes on the arm. That ought +to give dignity, even to a death in the gutter. + +Peroo brought out some pipeclay and pumice-stone from a crevice, and +set to work cheerfully on the buttons and belts, thinking as he worked +that he had indeed made a good bargain. With a judicious smear of +cinnabar here and there, the tunic would be almost as good as the +master's old one--_plus_ the good-conduct stripes, of course, which he +could never have gained in the regiment. + +But out of it? If, for instance, the Lord were really to repay Private +George Afford for that good deed in defending a poor lame man?--a good +deed which no bad one could alter for the worse! Peroo on this point +would have been a match for a whole college of Jesuits in casuistry, +as he laid on the pipeclay with lavish hand, and burnished the buttons +till they shone like gold. + +It was grey dawn when George Afford woke, feeling a deferential touch +on his shoulder. + +"_Huzoor!_" came a familiar voice, "the first bugle has gone. The +_Huzoor_ will find his uniform--a corporal's, with three good-conduct +stripes--is ready. The absence of a rifle is to be regretted; but that +shall be amended if the _Huzoor_ will lend a gracious ear to the plan +of his slave. In the meantime a gifting of the _Huzoor's_ feet for the +putting on of stockings might be ordered." + +George Afford thrust out a foot mechanically, and sate on the edge of +the string bed staring stupidly at the three good-conduct stripes on +the tunic, which was neatly folded beside him. + +"It is quite simple," went on the deferential voice. "The _Huzoor_ is +going to march with the colours, but he will be twelve hours behind +them; that is all. He will get the fighting, and by-and-by, when the +killing comes and men are wanted, the Colonel-_sahib_ may give a +place; but, in any case, there will always be the fighting. For the +rest, I, the _Huzoor's_ slave, will manage; and as there will, of +necessity, be no canteen, there can be no tyranny. Besides, since +there is not a cowrie in the master's jacket, what else is he to do?" + +The last argument was unanswerable. George Afford thrust out his other +foot to be shod for this new path, and stared harder than ever at the +good-conduct stripes. + +That night, despite the fatigues of a first day in camp, Peroo trudged +back along the hard white road to meet some one whom he expected; for +this was the first step, and he had, perforce, been obliged to leave +his charge to his own devices for twelve hours amid the distractions +of the bazaar. Still, without a cowrie in his pocket--Peroo had +carefully extracted the few annas he had found in one--a man was more +or less helpless, even for evil. + +Despite this fact, there was a lilt in the lagging step which, just as +Peroo had begun to give up hope of playing Providence, came slowly +down the road. It belonged to George Afford, in the gentlemanly stage +of drink. He had had a chequered life, he said almost tearfully, but +there were some things a man of honour could not do. He could not +break his promise to an inferior--a superior was another matter. In +that case he paid for it honestly. But he had promised Peroo--his +inferior--to come. So here he was; and that was an end of it. + +It seemed more than once during the next few hours as if the end had, +indeed, come. But somehow Peroo's deferential hand and voice +extricated those tired uncertain feet, the weary sodden brain, from +ditches and despair; still it was a very sorry figure which Peroo's +own hasty footsteps left behind, safely quartered for the day in a +shady bit of jungle, while he ran on to overtake the rear-guard if he +could. The start, however, had been too much for his lameness, and he +was a full hour late at his work; which, of course, necessitated his +putting in an excuse. He chose drunkenness, as being nearest the +truth, was fined a day's wages, and paid it cheerfully, thinking with +more certainty of the sleeping figure he had left in the jungles. + +The afternoon sun was slanting through the trees before it stirred, +and George Afford woke from the sleep of fatigue superadded to his +usual sedative. He felt strangely refreshed, and lay on his back +staring at the little squirrels yawning after their midday snooze in +the branches above him. And then he laughed suddenly, sate up and +looked about him half confusedly. Not a trace of humanity was to be +seen; nothing but the squirrels, a few green pigeons, and down in the +mirror-like pool behind the trees--a pool edged by the percolating +moisture from the water with faint spikes of sprouting grass--a couple +of egrets were fishing lazily. Beyond lay a bare sandy plain, backed +by faint blue hills--the hills where fighting was to be had. Close at +hand were those three good-conduct stripes. + +That night Peroo had not nearly so far to go back along the broad +white road; yet the step which came echoing down it, if steadier, +lagged more. Nor was Peroo's task much easier, for George Afford--in +the abject depression which comes to the tippler from total +abstinence--sate down in the dust more than once, and swore he would +not go another step without a dram. Still, about an hour after dawn, +he was once more dozing in a shady retreat with a pot of water and +some dough cakes beside him, while Peroo, in luck, was getting a lift +to the third camping-ground. + +But even at the second, where the sleeping figure remained, the +country was wilder, almost touching the "skirts of the hills," and so, +when George Afford roused himself--as the animals rouse themselves to +meet the coming cool of evening--a ravine deer was standing within +easy shot, looking at him with head thrown back and wide, startled +nostrils, scenting the unknown. + +The sight stirred something in the man which had slept the sleep of +the dead for years; that keen delight of the natural man, not so much +in the kill as in the chase; not so much in the mere chase itself as +in its efforts--its freedom. He rose, stretching his long arms in what +was half a yawn, half a vague inclination to shake himself free of +some unseen burden. + +But that night he swore at Peroo for leading him a fool's dance; he +threatened to go back. He was not so helpless as all that. He was not +a slave; he would have his tot of rum like any other soldier as-- + +"_Huzoor_," interrupted Peroo, deferentially, "this slave is aware +that many things necessary to the _Huzoor's_ outfit as a soldier +remain to be produced. But with patience all may be attained. Here, by +God's grace, is the rifle. One of us--Smith-_sahib_ of G Company, +_Huzoor_--found freedom to-day. He was reconnoitring with Griffiths, +Major-_sahib_, when one of these hell-doomed _Sheeahs_--whom Heaven +destroy--shot him from behind a rock--" + +Private George Afford seemed to find his feet suddenly. "Smith of G +Company?" he echoed in a different voice. + +"_Huzoor!_--the _sahib_ whom the _Huzoor_ thrashed for thrashing this +slave--" + +"Poor chap!" went on George Afford, as if he had not heard. "So +they've nicked him--but we'll pay 'em out--we--" His fingers closed +mechanically on the rifle Peroo was holding out to him. + + + * * * * * + + +It was a fortnight after this, and the camp lay clustered closely in +the mouth of a narrow defile down which rushed a torrent swollen from +the snows above; a defile which meant decisive victory or defeat to +the little force which had to push their way through it to the heights +above. Yet, though death, maybe, lay close to each man, the whole camp +was in an uproar because Major Griffiths' second pair of _putties_ had +gone astray. The other officers had been content with one set of these +woollen bandages which in hill-marching serve as gaiters, and help so +much to lessen fatigue; but the Major, being methodical, had provided +against emergencies. And now, when, with that possibility of death +before him, his soul craved an extreme order in all things, his clean +pair had disappeared. Now the Major, though silent, always managed to +say what he meant. So it ran through the camp that they had been +stolen, and men compared notes over the fact in the mess-tent and in +the canteen. + +In the former, the Adjutant with a frown admitted that of late there +had been a series of inexplicable petty thefts in camp, which had +begun with the disappearance of Private Smith's rifle. That might +perhaps be explained in an enemy's country, but what the deuce anybody +could want with a pair of bone shirt-studs-- + +"And a shirt," put in a mournful voice. + +"_Item_ a cake of scented soap," said another. + +"And a comb," began a third. + +The Colonel, who had till then preserved a discreet silence, here +broke in with great heat to the Adjutant. + +"Upon my soul, sir, it's a disgrace to the staff, and I must insist on +a stringent inquiry the instant we've licked these hill-men. I--I +didn't mean to say anything about it--but I haven't been able to find +my tooth-brush for a week." + +Whereupon there was a general exodus into the crisp, cold air outside, +where the darkness would hide inconvenient smiles, for the Colonel was +one of those men who have a different towel for their face and hands. + +The stars were shining in the cleft between the tall, shadowy cliffs +which rose up on either side, vague masses of shadow on which--seen +like stars upon a darker sky--the watchfires of the enemy sparkled +here and there. The enemy powerful, vigilant; and yet beside the +camp-fires close at hand the men had forgotten the danger of the +morrow in the trivial loss of the moment, and were discussing the +Major's _putties_. + +"It's w'ot I say all along," reiterated the romancer of G Company. "It +begun ever since Joey Smith was took from us at Number Two camp. It's +'is ghost--that's w'ot it is. 'Is ghost layin' in a _trew-so_. Jest +you look 'ere! They bury 'im, didn't they? as 'e was--decent like in +coat and pants--no more. Well! since then 'e's took 'is rifle off us, +an' a greatcoat off D Company, and a knapsack off A." + +"Don't be lavin' out thim blankets he tuk from the store, man," +interrupted the tall Irishman. "Sure it's a testhimony to the pore +bhoy's character annyhow that he shud be wantin' thim where he is." + +"It is not laughing at all at such things I would be, whatever," put +in another voice seriously, "for it is knowing of such things we are +in the Highlands--" + +"Hold your second sight, Mac," broke in a third; "we don't want none +o' your shivers tonight. You're as bad as they blamed niggers, and +they swear they seen Joey more nor once in a red coat dodging about +our rear." + +"Well! they won't see 'im no more, then," remarked a fourth +philosophically, "for 'e change 'is tailor. Leastways, 'e got a +service khakee off Sergeant Jones the night afore last; the Sergeant +took his Bible oath to 'ave it off Joey Smith's ghost, w'en 'e got +time to tackle 'im, if 'e 'ave ter go to 'ell for it." + +Major Griffiths meantime was having a similar say as he stood, +eye-glass in eye, at the door of the mess-tent. "Whoever the thief +is," he admitted, with the justice common to him, "he appears to have +the instincts of a gentleman; but, by Gad, sir, if I find him he shall +know what it is to take a field officer's gaiters." + +Whereupon he gave a dissatisfied look at his own legs, a more +contented one at the glimmering stars of the enemy's watchfires, and +then turned in to get a few hours' rest before the dawn. + +But some one a few miles farther down the valley looked both at his +legs and at the stars with equal satisfaction. Some one, tall, square, +straight, smoking a pipe--some one else's pipe, no doubt--beside the +hole in the ground where, on the preceding night, the camp flagstaff +had stood. That fortnight had done more for George Afford than give +his outward man a trousseau; it had clothed him with a certain +righteousness, despite the inward conviction that Peroo must be a +magnificent liar in protesting that the _Huzoor's_ outfit had either +been gifted to him or bought honestly. + +In fact, as he stood looking down at his legs complacently, he +murmured to himself, "I believe they're the Major's, poor chap; look +like him somehow." Then he glanced at the Sergeant's coatee he wore +and walked up and down thoughtfully--up and down beside the hole in +the ground where the flagstaff had stood. + +So to him from the dim shadows came a limping figure. + +"Well?" he called sharply. + +"The orders are for dawn, _Huzoor_, and here are some more +cartridges." + +George Afford laughed; an odd, low little laugh of sheer satisfaction. + + + * * * * * + + +It was past dawn by an hour or two, but the heights were still unwon. + +"Send some one--any one!" gasped the Colonel, breathlessly, as he +pressed on with a forlorn hope of veterans to take a knoll of rocks +whence a galling fire had been decimating every attack. "Griffiths! +for God's sake, go or get some one ahead of those youngsters on the +right or they'll break--and then--" + +Break! What more likely? A weak company, full of recruits, a company +with its officers shot down, and before them a task for veterans--for +that indifference to whizzing bullets which only custom brings. Major +Griffiths, as he ran forward, saw all this, saw also the ominous +waver. God! would he be in time to check it--to get ahead? that was +what was wanted, some one ahead--no more than that--some one ahead! + +There was some one. A tall figure ahead of the wavering boys. + +"Come on! come on, my lads! follow me!" rang out a confident voice, +and the Major, as he ran, half-blinded by the mists of his own haste, +felt it was as a voice from heaven. + +"Come on! come on!--give it 'em straight. Hip, hip, hurray!" + +An answering cheer broke from the boys behind, and with a rush the +weakest company in the regiment followed some one to victory. + + + * * * * * + + +"I don't understand what the dickens it means," said the Colonel +almost fretfully that same evening, when, safe over the pass, the +little force was bivouacking in a willow-set valley on the other side +of the hills. Before it lay what it had come to gain, behind it danger +past. "Some one in my regiment," he went on, "does a deuced plucky +thing--between ourselves, saves the position: I want naturally to find +out who it was, and am met by a cock and bull story about some one's +ghost. What the devil does it mean, Major?" + +The Major shook his head. "I couldn't swear to the figure, sir, though +it reminded me a bit--but that's impossible. However, as I have by +your orders to ride back to the top, sir, and see what can be done to +hold it, I'll dip over a bit to where the rush was made, and see if +there is any clue." + +He had not to go so far. For in one of those tiny hollows in the level +plateau of pass, whence the snow melts early, leaving a carpet of blue +forget-me-nots and alpine primroses behind it, he, Sergeant Jones, and +the small party going to make security still more secure, came upon +Peroo, the water-carrier, trying to perform a tearful travesty of the +burial service over the body of George Afford. + +It was dressed in Sergeant Jones' tunic and Major Griffiths' +_putties_, but the Sergeant knelt down beside it, and smoothed the +stripes upon the cuff with a half-mechanical, half-caressing touch, +and the Major interrupted Peroo's protestations with an odd tremor in +his voice. + +"What the devil does it matter," he said sharply, "what he took +besides the pass? Stand aside, man; this is my work, not yours. +Sergeant! form up your men for the salute--ball cartridge." + +The Major's recollection of the service for the burial of the dead was +not accurate, but it was comprehensive. So he committed the mortal +remains of his brother soldier to the dust, confessing confusedly that +there is a natural body and a spiritual body--a man that is of the +earth earthy, and one that is the Lord from heaven. So following on a +petition to be saved from temptation and delivered from evil, the +salute startled the echoes, and they left George Afford in the keeping +of the pass, and the pass in his keeping. And as the Major rode +campwards, he wondered vaguely if some one before the great white +throne wore a bad-character suit, or whether wisdom understood the +plea, "I've had a very chequered life, I have indeed." + +But Peroo had no such thoughts; needed no such excuse. It was +sufficient for him that the _Huzoor_ had once been the protector of +the poor. + + + + + FIRE AND ICE + + +It was in a little lath-and-plaster house down by the river that it +all happened. The veriest confection of a house, looking for all the +world as if it were a Neapolitan ice. Strawberry and vanilla in +alternate stripes, with shuttered windows of coffee, and a furled +wafer of an awning over the filagree chocolate balcony. And it rested, +so to speak, against a platter of green plantain-leaves, bright as any +emerald. No doubt the trees belonging to the leaves grew somewhere to +the back or the side of it, but from the wide street in front you +could see nothing but the green leaves surrounding the ice-cream. + +For the rest it was a three-storeyed house outwardly; inwardly a +two-storeyed one; or to be strictly accurate, it consisted of a storey +and a half, since the further half of the ground floor and the whole +of the middle storey belonged to a different house, having a different +entrance in a different street, which lay in a different quarter. A +very respectable quarter indeed, whereas the less said about the +morals of the wide street down by the river the better. They were so +bad that the modesty of the middle storey did not permit of a single +window whence they could be seen. And this gave the house a queer, +half-hearted look, for the top storey, and that half of the lowest one +which belonged to it, were full of windows and doors opening on to the +broad path leading to destruction. There were five, with fretted +wooden architraves filling up the whole of the ground floor, so that +you could see straight into the long, shallow hall whence there was no +exit save by a narrow slit in the middle, showing a dim, steep +staircase. It was always empty, this hall, though it was carpeted with +striped carpets, and painted elaborately in flowery arabesques of a +dull, pale, pink and flaming crimson; an odd mixture reminding you +vaguely of bloodstains on a rose-leaf. And there was a red lamp over +the centre door, which sent a rosy redness into the growing dusk; for +it was lit early. + +So was the pale--the palest of green lights--on the top storey which +you could see swinging from the roof when the coffee-ice shutters were +thrown back as the evening breeze came down the river. It was pale, +yet bright like the first star at sunsetting. + +And sometimes, but not often, if you watched in the early dusk you +might see the owner of the ice-cream house flit across the open +window. She was like a sugar-drop herself, rose or saffron decked with +silver leaf, a slender scrap of a creature who tinkled as she walked +and gave out a perfume of heavy scented flowers. But this was seldom; +more often you only heard the tinkle, either of silver or laughter, +since Burfani--for that was her name--was of those who barter the one +for the other. It was in truth her hereditary trade, though neither +her father nor her mother had practised it; their role in life having +been that of pater and mater-familias. A very necessary one if the +race is to survive, and so in this generation, also, her brother had +undertaken the duty of marrying his first cousin. The young couple +being now, in the privacy and propriety of the second storey, engaged +in bringing up a fine family of girls to succeed to the top storey +when Burfani's age should drive her to a lower place in life. In the +meantime, however, she allowed them so much a month; enough to enable +idle Zulfkar to fight quail in the bazaars and keep his wife Lazizan +in the very strictest seclusion--as befitted one filched from the +profession of bartering smiles in order to fulfil the first duty of a +woman--the rearing of babes. + +Thus, in more ways than one, the house was conglomerate. On the side +overlooking the broad path there was the stained rose-leaf hall, +empty, swept, and garnished, and the dark stair leading up and up to +the wandering star of a lamp twinkling out into the sunset amid the +sound of laughter and money. On the side giving upon narrow +respectability a hall full of household gear and dirt where the little +girls played, and a dark stair leading to a darker room where Lazizan +sat day after day bewailing her sad fate; for, of course, life would +have been much gayer over the way, since she was a beautiful woman. +Far more beautiful in a lavish, somewhat loud fashion, than the lady +belonging to the ice-cream house with her delicate, small face; but +that was the very reason why she had been chosen out from many to +carry on the race as it ought to be carried on. Burfani, of course, +was clever, and that counted for much, but it never did in their +profession to rely on brains above looks. Nevertheless Lazizan, when +in a bad temper, was in the habit of telling herself that if she had +been taught to sing and dance, as the little lady had been taught, she +could have made the ice-cream house a more paying concern than it +was--to judge by the pittance they received from it! And this angry +complaint grew with her years until as she sat suckling her fourth +child, she felt sometimes as if she could strangle it, even though it +was a boy, and though as a rule she was an affectionate mother. In +truth the sheer animal instinct natural to so finely developed a +creature lasted out the two or three years during which her children +were hers alone; after that, when they began crawling downstairs and +playing in the hall where she might never go, she became jealous and +then forgot all about them. + +Nevertheless, the boy being only some nine months old when he was +suddenly carried off by one of those mysterious diseases common to +Indian children, she wept profusely, and told Burfani--who, as in duty +bound, came round decently swathed in a _burka_ to offer condolence on +hearing of the sad event--that some childless one had doubtless cast a +shadow on him for his beauty's sake, seeing that--thank Heaven!--all +her children were beautiful. There was always a militant flavour +underlying the politeness of these two, and even the presence of the +quaint little overdressed dead baby awaiting its bier on the bed did +not prevent attack and defence. + +"They favour thee, sister," replied Burfani, suavely. "In mind also, +to judge from what I see. Therefore I shall await God's will in the +future ere I choose one to educate." + +Lazizan tittered sarcastically, despite her half-dried tears. + +"'Tis my choice first, nevertheless. The best of this bunch in +looks--ay, in brains too, perchance--marries my brother's son, +according to custom. Sure my mother chose thus, and I must do the +same, sister." + +She spoke evenly, though for the moment the longing to strangle +something had transferred itself to the saffron-coloured sugar-drop +all spangled with silver which had emerged from its chrysalis of a +_burka_. What business had the poor thin creature with such garments +when _her_ beauty was hidden by mere rags? + +Burfani laughed in her turn; an easy, indifferent laugh, and stretched +out her slim henna-dyed palm with the usual friendly offering of +cardamoms. + +"Take one, sister," she said soothingly, "they are good for spleen and +excessive grief. _Hai! Hai!_ thou wilt be forlorn, indeed, now thy +occupation is gone." + +Lazizan, with her mouth full of spices, tittered again more +artificially than ever. "I can do other things, perchance, beside +suckle babes. Maybe I weary of it, and am glad of a change." + +The saffron-coloured sugar-drop, seated on a low stool in front of the +white-sheeted bed with its solemn little gaily-dressed burden, looked +at its companion distastefully through its long lashes, and the +slender, henna-dyed hand, catching some loops of the jasmine chaplets +it wore, held them like a bouquet close to the crimson-tinted lips. + +"It is a virtuous task, my sister," quoth Burfani, gravely sniffing +away at the heavy perfume, as if she needed something to make her +environment less objectionable. "Besides, it is ever a mistake to +forsake the profession of one's birth--" + +"And wherefore should I?" interrupted Lazizan, seizing her opportunity +recklessly. "Hast thou forsaken it, and are we not sisters?" + +Again a cold, critical look of dislike came from the long, narrow eyes +with their drowsy lids. + +"Such words are idle, sister. Forget them. Thou wouldst not find it +easier--" + +"How canst tell?" interrupted Lazizan once more. "As well say that +thou couldst put up with my life." + +The saffron and silver daintiness shifted its look towards the bed, +and the henna-dyed hand straightened a wrinkle in the sheet softly. + +"God knows!" she said with a sudden smile. "Anyhow, sister, 'tis not +wise to change one's profession as one grows old." + +As one grows old! This parting shot rankled long after the decent +_burka_ had slipped like a shadow through the swept and garnished +hall, and so up the dark stairs to the wandering starlight shining +feebly out into the sunset; long after the preacher and the bier, and +the family friends had carried the gaily-dressed baby to its grave, +leaving the mother to the select and secluded tears of her neighbours; +long after the little girls, wearied out with excitement, had fallen +asleep cuddled together peacefully, innocent of that choice in the +future; long after Zulfkar, full of liquor, tears, and curses, due to +a surplusage in the funeral expenses allowed by Burfani, to parental +grief, and to bad luck at cards, came home, desirous of sympathy. He +got none, for Lazizan, despite her seclusion, had never lost the +empire which he felt she deserved as the handsomest woman he knew. +'Twas his own fault, she said curtly; he could marry another wife, +have more liquor, and gamble as much as he liked if he chose. It was +but a question of money, and if he were content to put up with +beggarly alms from his sister, that ended the matter. + +Whereupon, being in the maudlin stage of drink, he wept still more. + +It must have been fully three months after the baby's funeral +procession had gone down the respectable street, and so by a side +alley found its way into the broad path leading alike to destruction +and the graveyard, that Burfani went round to her sister-in-law's +again. This time she was in pink and silver, like a rose-water ice, +and her words were cold as her looks. + +"Say what thou wilt, Lazizan, the youth lingers. Have I not windows to +my house? Have I not eyes? And such things shall not be bringing +disgrace to respectable families." + +Lazizan tittered as usual: "Lo! what a coil, because an idle stranger +lingers at the back instead of the front, 'Tis for thy sake doubtless, +sister, though thou art unkind. I wonder at it, seeing he is not +ill-favoured." + +"So thou _hast_ seen him! So be it. See him no more, or I tell +Zulfkar." + +"Tell him what? That thou hast cast eyes on a handsome stranger, and +because he comes not to thy call wouldst fasten the quarrel upon me? +Zulfkar is no fool, sister, he will not listen!" + +"If he listen not, he can leave my house--for 'tis mine. And mark my +words, Lazizan Bibi, no scandal comes nigh it." + +Caesar's wife could not have spoken with greater unction, and in good +sooth she meant her words, since in no class is seclusion bound to be +more virtuous than in that to which Burfani belonged. + +So, as the motes in the sunbeam of life danced along the broad path in +front of the ice-cream house, and drifted up its dark stair, the +painted and perfumed little lady under the pale green lamp kept an eye +upon the virtue of her family. Thus ere long it came to be Zulfkar's +turn to listen to his sister's warning, and as he listened he sucked +fiercely, confusedly, at the inlaid hookah which stood for the use of +approved visitors; for in good sooth there had been more money to +spend of late, and Lazizan was discreet enough save to those watchful, +experienced eyes. The sound of his hubblings and bubblings therefore +was his only answer, and they filled the wide, low, white-plastered +upper storey, frescoed round each coffee-shuttered window with flowery +devices, until Burfani lost patience, and began coldly: + +"Hast been taking lessons of a camel, brother?" she asked, rustling +the tinsel-decked fan she held; and then suddenly she seemed to grasp +something, and the contemptuous indifference of her bearing changed to +passionate anger. Her silver-set feet clashed as they touched the +floor, and she rose first to a sitting posture, finally to stand +before the culprit, the very personification of righteous wrath. + +"So! thou hast taken gold! This is why thou canst ruffle with the best +at Gulabun's--base-born parvenu who takes to the life out of +wickedness--as _she_ hath done, bringing disgrace to the screened +house where thy mother dwelt in decency. But thou dwellest there no +longer--thou eatest no bread of mine--I will choose my pupil from +another brood." + +"Nay, sister, 'tis not proved," stammered Zulfkar. + +"Not proved!" she went on still more passionately. "Nay, 'tis not +proved to thy neighbours, maybe, but to me? Mine eyes have seen--I +know the trick--and out thou goest. I will have no such doings in my +house, and so I warned her months ago. But there! what need for +railing? Live on her gold an thou wiliest, it shall not chink beside +mine." + +She sank back upon the silk coverlet again, and with a bitter laugh +began to rustle the tinsel fan once more. And Zulfkar, after +unavailing protests, slunk down the dark stairs, and so along the +street to a certain house over the liquor-seller's shop, about which a +noisy crowd gathered all day long. + +And that night screams and blows came from the second storey, and +unavailing curses on the mischief-maker. But if the latter heard them, +she gave no sign to the approved visitors drinking sherbets in the +cool upper storey with the windows set wide to the stars. + +It was Zulfkar beating his wife, of course, because she was so +handsome primarily; secondly, because she had been foolish enough to +be found out; thirdly, because even in liquor he was sharp enough to +recognise that Burfani would keep her word. + +And she did. The supplies stopped from that day. Within a week the +second storey lay empty, while Lazizan wept tears of pain and spite in +a miserable little lodging in the very heart of the city. It is +difficult even to hint at the impotent rage the woman felt towards her +sister-in-law. Even Zulfkar's blows were forgotten in the one mad +longing to revenge herself upon the pink-and-saffron daintiness which +would not spare one crumb from a full table. For so to Lazizan's +coarse, passionate nature the matter presented itself, bringing with +it a fierce delight at the perfections of her own lover. He had +deserted her for the time, it is true, but that was the way of lovers +when husbands were angry; by-and-by he would come back, and there +would be peace, since Zulfkar must have gold. + +So ran her calculations; but she reckoned without a certain fierce +intolerance which the latter shared with his sister; also somewhat +prematurely on an immediate emptying of his pockets. But luck was not +all against him; the cards favoured him. And so, when a few days after +the flitting from the second storey, she, being sick to death of +dulness, thought the time had come for self-assertion, she found +herself mistaken. Zulfkar, still full of Dutch courage, fell upon her +again, and beat her most unmercifully, finishing up with an +intimidatory slash at her nose. It was not much, not half so serious +as the beating, but the very thought of possible disfigurement drove +her mad, and the madness drove her to a corner where she could plan +revenge while Zulfkar slept heavily--for he was more than half drunk. +And _this_, too, was the fault of the saffron-and-rose devil in the +upper storey, who had her amusement and spied upon other women's ways. +And _this_ meant days more ere she, Lazizan, would be presentable, +even if she did not carry the mark to her grave, and all because that +she-devil was jealous--jealous of _her_ lover! + +Oh for revenge! And why not? The door was unlatched, since Zulfkar had +forgotten it in his anger; the streets were deserted. Even the broad +path down by the river would be asleep, the green light gone from +above, only the red lamp swinging over the outer door, sending a +glow.... Fire! The thought leapt to her brain like a flame itself. Why +not? Zulfkar had purposely kept--all unbeknown to the she-devil--a +second key to that empty second floor, and he was in a drunken sleep. +If she stole it--if she took the bottle of paraffin--if she set fire +to the wooden partition separating the stairs--if she broke the red +lamp and pretended that was it-- + +She did not stop to think. She had begun the task almost before she +had thought out the details, and was fumbling in Zulfkar's pockets as +he lay. And there were two bottles of paraffin in the corner; that was +because he had brought one home, and the market-woman another by +mistake. So much the better, so much the bigger blaze. Then out into +the street, not forgetting a box of safety matches--strange companions +to such a task. She knew her way well, having wandered free enough as +a child before the lot was drawn, the die cast which sent her to +suckle babes. Yet, being a woman beset by a thousand superstitious +fears, it needed all her courage ere she found herself face to face +with the thin wooden partition surrounding the steep stair leading +upwards. How many times had she not listened to feet ascending those +unseen stairs, and heard the tinkle of laughter as the unseen door +above opened? + +Well, it would blaze finely, and cut off at once all means of escape. +A devilish plan indeed, and the leaping flames, ere she left them to +their task, showed the face of a fiend incarnate. + +And so to wait for the few minutes before the whole world must +know that the saffron and the rose daintiness was doomed. No more +laughter--no more lovers--that would be for her, Lazizan, not for the +other with her cold sneers. + +A licking tongue of flame showed for an instant and made her pray +Heaven none might see it too soon. Then a crackle, a puff of smoke, +next a cry of fire, but, thank Heaven, only from the broad path. And +what good were the running feet, what good the shouts of the crowd in +which her shrouded figure passed unnoticed, unless the upper storey +had wings? For the stairs must be gone--hopelessly gone--by this time. + +More than the stairs, for with one sudden blaze the lath-and-plaster +house seemed to melt like ice itself before the sheet of flame which +the soft night wind bent riverwards. + +And still the top storey slept, or was it suffocated? No! there was +some one at the window--some one gesticulating wildly. A man--not a +woman. + +"Throw yourself down!" cried an authoritative foreign voice, "'tis +your only chance." + +Surely, since the ice melted visibly during the sudden hush which fell +upon the jostling crowd. + +"Throw yourself down!" came the order again; "we'll catch you if we +can. Stand back, good people." + +"Quick! it's your last chance," came the inexorable voice once more. +Then there was a leap, a scream--a crash, as in his despair the man +overleapt the mark and fell among the parting crowd. Fell right at +Lazizan's feet face uppermost. + +And it was the face of the handsome stranger--of her lover. + +Her shriek echoed his as she flung herself beside him. And at the +sound something white and ghostlike slipped back from the window with +a tinkle of laughter. + +"Burfani! Burfani!" shouted the crowd. "Drop gently--we'll save you! +Burfani! Burfani!" + +But there was no answer; and the next moment with a roar and a crash +Vice fell upon Virtue, and both together upon the swept and garnished +hall and the hall where the little girls had played. + +The ice-cream house had become a blazing pile of fire. + + + + + THE SHAHBASH WALLAH + + +Shahbash, Bhaiyan, Shahbash! + +The words, signifying "Bravo, boys, bravo!" came in a despondent drawl +from the coolie leaning against the ladder--one of those crazy bamboo +ladders with its rungs tied on with grass twine at varying slants and +distances, whereon the Indian house-decorator loves to spend long days +in company with a pot of colour-wash and a grass brush made from the +leavings of the twine. + +There were two such ladders in the bare, oblong, lofty room, set round +with open doors and windows, and on each was balanced a man, a pot, +and a brush--all doing nothing. So was the coolie below. + +He was a small, slight man, with a dejected expression. Stark naked, +save for two yards or so of coarse muslin wisped about his short hair +and a similar length knotted about his middle. What colour either had +been originally could not be guessed, since both were completely +covered with splashes of colour-wash--blue, green, yellow, and pink. +So was his thin body, which, as he stood immovable at the bottom of +the ladder, looked as if it was carved out of some rare scagiola. + +For they were doing up the hospital in Fort Lawrence, and +Surgeon-Captain Terence O'Brien, of the 10th Sikh Pioneers--then +engaged in making military roads over the Beloochistan frontier--had +an eye for colour. Not so, however, Surgeon-Major Pringle, who that +very morning had marched in with the detachment of young English +recruits which had been sent to take possession of the newly enlarged +fort. It was a queer mud building, looking as if it were a part of the +mud promontory which blocked a sharp turn in the sun-dried, heat-baked +mud valley, through which the dry bed of a watercourse twisted like +the dry skin of a snake. Everything dry, everything mud, baked to +hardness by the fierce sun. It was an ugly country in one way, +picturesque in another, with its yawning fissures cracking the mud +hills into miniature peaks and passes, its almost leafless flowering +shrubs, aromatic, honeyful, and its clouds of painted butterflies. A +country in which colour was lost in sheer excess of sunshine. + +That, however, was not the reason why Surgeon-Captain O'Brien had +painted his wards to match Joseph's coat. As he explained to +Surgeon-Major Pringle, who, as senior officer, took over charge, it +was wiser, in his opinion--especially with youngsters about--to call +wards by the colour of their walls rather than by the diseases to be +treated in them; since if a patient "wance found out what was really +wrong with his insoide, he was sure to get it insthanter." + +The Surgeon-Major, fresh from England and professional +precisions--fresh also to India and its appeals to the +imagination--had felt it impossible to combat such statements +seriously. Besides, there was no use in doing so. The walls were past +remedy for that year, and even the _post-mortem_ house--that last +refuge of all diseases--was being washed bright pink; a colour which, +according to Terence O'Brien, was "a nice, cheerful tint, that could +not give annyone, not even a corpse, the blues." + +In the course of which piece of work the small man at the foot of the +ladder was becoming more and more like a statue in _rosso antico_, as +he repeated: "_Shahbash, bhaiyan, shahbash!_" at regular intervals. + +His voice had no resonance, and not an atom of enthusiasm about it; +but, like a breeze among rain-soaked trees, it always provoked a +pitter-patter of falling drops--a patter of pink splashes like huge +tears--upon the concrete floor and the scagiola figure. For the words +set the brushes above moving slowly for a while; then the spasm of +energy passed, all was still again, until a fresh "Bravo, boys, +bravo!" was followed by a fresh shower of pink tears. + +"Lazy brutes!" came a boy's voice from the group of young recruits who +were enjoying a well-earned rest after having marched in fifteen +miles, carrying their kits as if they had been born with them, and +settling down into quarters as if they were veterans. For they were +smart boys, belonging to a smart regiment, whose recruiting ground lay +far from slums and scums; one whose officers were smart also, and kept +up the tone of their men by teaching them a superior tolerance for the +rest of the world. "Jest look at that feller--like an alley taw. He +ain't done a blessed 'and's turn since I began to watch 'im." They +were seated on some shady mud steps right over against the hospital +compound, and the _post-mortem_ house being separate from the wards, +and having all its many windows and doors set wide, the inside of it +was as plainly visible as the out. + +"Rum lot," assented another voice with the same ring of wholesome +self-complacency in it. "I arst one of the Sickees, as seems a decent +chap for a nigger and knows a little decent lingo, wot the spotted pig +was at with his everlastin' _shabbashes_, an' 'e says it's to put +courage to the Johnnies up top. Not that I don't say I shouldn't +cotton myself much to them ladders, that's more like caterpillars than +a decent pair o' 'ouse-steps. A poor lot--that's wot they are, as +doesn't know the differ in holt between a nail and a bit o' twine." + +"Well, mates," said a third voice, "all I can say is that if they +ain't got no more courage than _shahbash_ can put to them, it's no +wonder we licks the blooming lot of them--as we does constant." + +There was a faint laugh first, and then the group sucked at their +pipes decisively as they watched the doings in the _post-mortem_. +Though they would have scouted the suggestion, the _shahbash wallah_ +had justified his calling; for patriotism brings courage with it. + +He did not trouble his head about justification, however. Some one, in +his experience, always did the shouting, and it suited him better than +more active occupation, for he was lame; stiff, too, in his back. +Surgeon-Major Pringle, coming in later to find the _post-mortem_ very +much as it had been hours before, looked at him distastefully, and +began a remark about what two English workmen could have done, which +Surgeon-Captain Terence O'Brien interrupted with his charming smile: +"Sure, sir, the sun rises a considerable trifle airlier East than +West, an' that's enough energy for wan hemisphere. Besides, ye can't +get on in India without a _shahbash wallah_. Or elsewhere, for that +matter. Ye always require 'the something not ourselves which makes for +righteousness'--" + +"Makes for fiddlesticks!" muttered the senior under his breath, adding +aloud, "Who the dickens is the _shahbash wallah_ when he is at home, +and what's his work?" He asked the question almost reluctantly, for +his junior's extremely varied information had, since the morning, +imparted a vague uncertainty to a round world which had hitherto, in +Dr. Pringle's estimation of it, been absolutely sure--cocksure! + +"What is he? Oh! he's a variety of names. He's objective reality, +moral sanction, antecedent experience, unconditioned good. Ye can take +yer choice of the lot, sir; and if ye can't win the thrick with +metaphysics--I can't, and that's the thruth--play thrumps. +Sentiment!--sympathy! Ye can't go wrong there. Ye can't leave them out +of life's equation, East or West. Just some one--a fool, maybe--to say +ye're a fine fellow, an' no misthake, at the very moment whin ye know +ye're not. Biogenesis, sir, is the Law of Life. As Schopenhauer says, +the secret that two is wan, is the--" + +His senior gave an exasperated sigh, and preferred changing the +subject. So at the appointed time, no sooner, no later, the last +patter of pink tears fell from the brushes upon the floor of the +_post-mortem_ and upon the still figure, which might have been a +corpse save for its drowsy applause--"Bravo, boys, bravo!" Then the +caterpillar ladders, with the decorators and the pots of colour-wash +and the brushes still attached to them, crawled away, and the +_shahbash wallah_ followed in their wake, his skin bearing mute +evidence to the amount of work he had provoked. + +His turban and waistcloth testified to it for days--in lessening +variety of tint as the layers of pink, green, blue, and yellow +splashes wore off--for at least a fortnight, during which time +Surgeon-Major Pringle, busy in making all things conform to his ideal, +constantly came across the _shahbash wallah_ bestowing praise where, +in the doctor's opinion, none was deserved. What right, for instance, +had the water-carriers filling their pots, the sweepers removing the +refuse, to senseless commendation for the performance of their daily +round, their common task? + +Especially when it was so ill performed; even in the matter of +punkah-pulling, a subject on which the native might be credited with +some knowledge. Surgeon-Major Pringle seethed with repressed +resentment for days over the intermittent pulse of the office punkah, +and finally, in a white heat of discomfort and indignation, burst out +into the verandah, harangued the coolie at length, and in the fulness +of Western energy went so far as to show him how to keep up a regular, +even swing. His masterly grasp of a till then untouched occupation not +only satisfied himself but also the _shahbash wallah_, who, as usual, +was lounging about in the verandah doing nothing. So, of course, his +"_Shahbash, jee, shahbash_," preceded Surgeon-Major Pringle's hasty +return to the office and prepared Terence O'Brien for the dictum that +the offender must be sent about his business; for _if_ he was a +camp-follower he _must_ have some business, some regular work. + +"Worrk, is it?" echoed Terence with his charming smile of pure +sympathy. "Be jabers! yes. Worrk--plenty, but not regular, as a rule. +The man's a torch-bearer. If it happens to be a dark night, and +annybody wants a _dhooli_, he carries the torch for it." + +Dr. Pringle's resentful surprise made him stutter: "Do you mean to say +that--that--that--that--the public money--the ratepayers' money--is +wasted in entertaining a whole man for so trivial a task?" + +"Trivial, is it? When he's a pillar of fire by night an' a cloud of +witnesses by day? And then he isn't a whole man, sir, at all at all. +Wan of his legs is shorter than the other. I had to break it twice, +sir, to get it as straight as it is. Thin, I've grave doubts about his +spinal column; and as I trepanned him myself, I know his head isn't +sound. It was two ton of earth fell on him, sir, last rains, when he +was givin' a drink to wan of the Sikhs that got hurt blasting. It's +nasty, shifty stuff, sir, is the mud in these low hills--nasty silted +alluvial stuff, with a bias in it. So, poor divvle! seeing he wasn't +fit for much but the hospital, I put him to the staff of it. And he +kapes things going. Indeed, I wouldn't take it upon myself to say that +he doesn't do the native patients as much good as half the drugs I +exhibit to the unfortunate craythurs, since for sheer mystherious +dispensations of Providence commend me to the British pharmacop[oe]ia." + +Once again Surgeon-Major Pringle felt that professional dignity could +best be served by silent contempt, and orders that the offender was, +at least, not to loaf about the verandahs. + +But the fates were against the fiat. In the moonless half of May, +driest of all months, a Hindu returning from Hurdwar fell sick, and +half-an-hour after the report, Surgeon-Captain Terence O'Brien, going +out of the ward with his senior, paused in his cheerful whistling of +"Belave me, if all those endearing young charms," to say under his +breath, "Cholera, mild type." Now cholera, no matter of what type, has +an ugly face when seen for the first time, especially when the face +which looks into it, wondering if it means life or death, has youth in +its eyes. So in the dark nights the _dhooli_ came into requisition, +and with it the torch-bearer, until the green and the blue and yellow +wards overflowed into the verandahs, and even the pink _post-mortem_ +claimed its final share of boys. Not a large one, however, since, as +Terence O'Brien said, "It was wan of those epidemics when ye couldn't +rightly say a man had cholera till he died of it." + +It was bad enough, however, to make the Surgeon-Major, who had never +seen one before, set to work when it passed, suddenly as it had come, +to cipher out averages, and tabulate treatments, with a view to what +is called future guidance. And so, as he confided to his assistant +with great complacency, it became clear as daylight that the largest +percentage of recoveries, their rapidity, and as a natural corollary +the incidence of mildness in the attack itself, seemed in connection +with the position of the cots. Those close to the doors, or actually +on the verandahs, were the most fortunate, and so he was inclined to +believe in the value of currents of fresh air. + +"Fresh air, is it?" echoed Terence, with an encouraging smile. "Maybe; +maybe not. God knows, it may be anything in the wide wurrld, since +there's but wan thing you can bet your bottom dollar on in cholera, +sir, and that is that ye can't tell anything about it for certain, and +that your experience of wan epidemic won't be that of the next." + +"Neither does your experience, Mr. O'Brien," retorted his senior, +sarcastically, "militate against mine being more fortunate. I mean to +leave no stone unturned to arrive at reliable _data_ on points which +appear to me to have been overlooked. For instance, I shall begin by +asking those cases of recovery if they remember anything which seemed +at the time to bring them relief, to stimulate in them that vitality +which it is so essential to preserve." + +In pursuance of which plan he went out then and there to the verandah, +where a dozen or more lank boys were lounging about listlessly, just +beginning to feel that life might soon mean more than a grey duffle +dressing-gown and a long chair. + +"No, sir," said the first, firmly. "I disremember anythin' that +done me good. I jest lay with a sickenin' pain in my inside, an' a +don't-care-if-I-do feelin' outside." He paused, and another boy took +up the tale sympathetically. + +"So it was. A reg'lar, don't-care except w'en that little 'eathen--'im +that's always saying _shahbash_, sir, come along; an' that seem +to me most times. 'E made me feel a blamed sight--beggin' pardon, +sir--worse. For I kep' thinkin' of where I see 'im first, like a alley +taw in the dead 'ouse; and the dead 'ouse isn't a cheerful sorter +think w'en you ain't sure but wot you're going there. It made me--" he +paused in his turn. + +"Made you what?" asked Terence O'Brien, who had followed to listen. + +"Give me the 'orrors, sir, till I'd 'ave swopped all I knew to kick +'im quiet; but not bein' able, I jest lay and kep' it for 'im against +I could, till it seemed like as I must; an' so I will." + +"In cases of extreme nervous depression, sir," began the junior, +mischievously, "a counter irritant--" + +"Pshaw!" interrupted Dr. Pringle, angrily, and walked back with great +dignity to the office. + +But the conversation thus started lingered among the grey +dressing-gowns, the result of comparing notes being a general verdict +that "Alley taw" deserved that kicking. He did not actually get it, +however; the boys were too big, and he too small for that. But he sank +into still greater disrepute, becoming, in truth, that most unenviable +of all things not made nor created, but begotten of idle wit--a +garrison butt. Not that he seemed to care much. He grew more furtive +in his lounging, but nothing seemed to disturb the divine calm of his +commendation for the world which he had created for himself with his +"Bravo, boys, bravo!" Behold, all things in it were very good! That, +at least, was Terence O'Brien's fanciful way of looking at the +position. As he went about his work whistling "Belave me, if all those +endearing young charms"--a tune which, he said, cheered the boys--he +would often pause to smile at the _shahbash wallah_. After a time, +however, the smile would change to a quick narrowing of the eyes, as +if something in the bearing of the man was puzzling. Finally, one day, +coming upon the man sidling along a bit of brick wall, which had been +built to strengthen a crack in the mud one overhanging the dry +watercourse, he pulled up, asked a few rapid questions, and then +lifted the man's eyelids and peered into the soft brown eyes, as if he +wanted to see through them to a crack he knew of in the back of the +man's skull. + +"And you are sure you see as well as ever?" he asked again. + +"Quite as well, _Huzoor_," came the answer, with a faint tremor in it. +"I can see to carry the torch on the darkest of nights if it is +wanted, _Huzoor!_" + +"Hm!" said Dr. O'Brien, doubtfully, promising himself to test the +truth of this statement. But the fates again decreed otherwise. The +next day's mail brought orders for him to go and act elsewhere for a +senior on two months' leave. + +Dr. Pringle was not sorry. How could you collaborate properly with a +man who calmly admitted that at a pinch he had used a bullet-mould to +extract a tooth? + +The monsoon had long since broken in the plains ere the young doctor +returned; but in the arid tract in which Fort Lawrence lay rain came +seldom at any time. And that was a year of abnormal drought. The +fissures in the mud seemed to widen with the heat, and the fringe of +green oleanders which followed every turn of the dry watercourse, +mutely witnessing to unseen moisture below, wilted and drooped. In the +new-built fort itself a crack or two showed in the level platform +jutting out across the low valley on which the building stood, and in +more than one place portions of the low mud-cliffs crumbled and broke +away. The whole earth, indeed, seemed agape with thirst. + +But water in plenty came at last. On the very day, in fact, when +Terence O'Brien returned to the fort, which he reached on foot, having +had to leave his _dhooli_ behind, owing to a small slip on the road; +nevertheless, as he crossed over from the mess to his quarters close +to the hospital that evening, he told himself that he had the devil's +own luck to be there at all. For the rain was then hitting the hard +ground with a distinct thud, and spurting up from it in spray, showing +white against the black mirk of the night. And the rush of the stream +filling up the dry bed of the watercourse, and playing marbles with +the boulders, was like a lion's roar. + +It did not keep him awake, however, for he was dead tired. So he slept +the sleep of the just. For how long he did not know. It was darker +than ever when he woke suddenly--why he knew not, and with the same +blind instinct was out into the open, quick as he could grope his way. + +Not an instant too soon, either. A deafening crash told him that, +though he could not see his own hand. The rain had ceased, but the +rush of the river dulled hearing to all lesser sounds. As he stood +dazed, he staggered, slipped, almost fell. Was that an earthquake, or +was the solid ground parting somewhere close at hand? And if his house +was down, how about the hospital and the sick folk? + +He turned at the thought and ran till, in the dark and the silence of +that overwhelming roar, he came full tilt upon some one else running +in the dark also. It was the Surgeon-Major. + +"The hospital's down. Have you a light--anything--a match?" panted Dr. +Pringle. "We must have a light to see--" + +"_Oh, masal! Oh, masal-jee!_" (Oh, the torch! Oh, the torch-bearer!) +shouted Terence at the top of his voice as he ran on till stopped by +something blocking the way. Ruins! And that was the sound of voices. + +"What's up?" he cried. + +"Don' know, sir," came from unseen hearers. "Part o' the 'orspital's +down, but we can't see. It's a slide o' some sort, for there's a crack +right across nigh under our feet. If we could get a light!" + +"_Oh, masal! Oh, masal-jee!_" The doctor's voice rang out again +towards the camp-followers' lines, but the roar was deafening. And in +the night, when all men are asleep, the news of disaster travels +slowly. Yet without a light it was impossible even to realise what had +happened, still less to help the sick who might lie crushed. + +"_Oh, masal! Oh, masal-jee!_--thank God! there's a light at last." + +There was, in the far distance across the quadrangle. But it was not a +torch; it was only an officer in a gorgeous sleeping-suit running with +a bedroom candle. Still it was a light! + +"Come on, man!" shouted Terence O'Brien, as it slackened speed, +paused, stopped dead. His was the only voice that seemed to carry +through the roar. + +But the gay sleeping-suit stood still, waving its candle. + +"It's the crack, sir," called some one in Terence O'Brien's ear. "It +goes right across, I expect--we'd best find out first." + +It did. A yawning fissure, twenty feet wide, had cut the hospital +compound in two, and isolated one angle of the fort--that nearest the +river--from the rest. Twenty feet wide, at least, judged by the +glimmer of light! And how deep? Had the river cut it? Was it only a +matter of time when the mud island on which they stood should be swept +away? And what were the means of escape? There was more light now; +more bedroom candles and sleeping-suits; a lamp or two, and others +behind, as the boys--last to wake--came running, to pause like the +first-comers, at the unpassable gulf; for the more it could be seen, +the more difficult seemed the task of crossing it at once. By-and-by, +perhaps, with ladders and ropes it would be possible--but now? Terence +O'Brien, feeling the "now" imperative, skirted the crumbling edge +almost too near for safety in his eagerness to find some foothold for +a daring man; but there was none. True, the brick wall, built to +strengthen the cracked mud one, still bridged the extreme end of the +fissure, looking as if the mud had deliberately shrunk from its +intrusion. It hung there half seen, on God knows what slender +foundation--perhaps on none. But it could give no help. To trust it +would be madness; a touch might send it down into the river below. No! +Since none could cross the gap there must be more light on the farther +side; torches, a bonfire, anything to pierce the dark and let men see +how to help themselves and other men! + +"_Oh, masal! Oh, masal-jee-an!_" The cry went out with all the force +of his lungs. Surely the camp-followers must be awake by now. + +One was, at any rate; for, surrounded by a halo from the faggot of +blazing pitch-pine it carried, a figure showed upon the path worn, +close to the mud walls of the native quarters, by the foot-tracks of +those whose duty took them to the hospital. It was the _shahbash +wallah_, coming slowly, almost indifferently, in answer to the call; +coming as if to his ordinary duty towards the growing fringe of +ineffectual candles and eager men bordering the impossible. That was +better! Given half-a-dozen more such haloes--and there were plenty if +they would only come--and eager men on the other side would see how to +help themselves and their comrades! + +But no other halo appeared behind the one which followed the +foot-track of others so closely; and so once again the call was +given-- + +"_Oh, masal! Oh, masal-jee-an! Oh, masal! Oh, masal-jee!_" + +"_Hazr, Huzoor!_" (Present, sir). + +The nearness of the voice made Terence O'Brien look up, for it was +the first voice he had heard clearly from the other side against that +roar of the river. But as he looked another voice beside him said +hurriedly-- + +"My God! he's coming across!" + +He was. Surrounded by the halo of his own light, and keeping +religiously to the beaten path, the _shahbash wallah_, leaving the mud +wall of the quarters, had struck the outer brick one as it stood, +supported for a few yards by a spit of earth upon which the foot-track +showed as the light passed. A spit narrowing to nothing--no! not to +nothing, but to a mere ledge of earth and mortar clinging like a +swallow's nest to the brick--wider here, narrower there, yet still +able to give faint foothold upon the traces of those feet which had +passed and repassed so often to their trivial round, their common +task. Foothold! Ay! But what of the brain guiding the feet? What of +the courage guiding the brain? + +And even then, what of the foundation? + +A sort of murmur rose above the roar. "He can't do +it--impossible--tell him. Call to him, O'Brien. Tell him not to try." + +The doctor stood for one second watching the figure centring its +circle of light against the background of wall; then, even though +there was no need for it, his voice fell to a whisper. "Hush!" he +said. "Don't hustle him. By the Lord who made me, he doesn't know; +he's feeling his way every inch by the wall! He's blind, and by God! +if anybody can do it, he will." + +He did. Step by step, slowly, confidently, in the footsteps of others. + +And the great cry of "Bravo, brother, bravo!" which went up from both +sides of the gap as he and his torch stepped on to firm ground, +brought him as much surprise as a voice from heaven might have done. + + + * * * * * + + +"Pressure on the brain!" said Surgeon-Captain Terence O'Brien, about +three weeks after this, when he and Dr. Pringle had had a consultation +over the _shahbash wallah_. He was not only blind now, but there was a +drag in the good leg as he limped about, over which both doctors shook +their heads. "And there's nothing to be done that I can see. The bhoys +will miss him!" + +That was true. Alley Taw had come into favour since the night when, as +Terence phrased it, "he had done a brave deed without doing it," and +by failing to see the evil, had enabled other men to do good. For the +torch had not disclosed irretrievable disaster, and by timely rescue +not a life had been lost. + +Surgeon-Major Pringle frowned. He was beginning to understand his +India a little, but the idea of the _shahbash wallah_ being a useful +member of society was still as a red rag to a bull. And so, out of +sheer contrariety, he began to talk doctor's talk as to the +possibility of this or that. + +"It's life or death, annyhow," said the junior, shaking his head, "but +I don't see it. I wouldn't thry it myself--not now at any rate." + +Perhaps not then. But after a month or two more he said, "It's your +suggestion; I don't belave it can be done; but you may as well thry." + +For the _shahbash wallah_, half paralysed, had even given up his cry. +So, part of the hospital being still under repair, they took him to +the pink _post-mortem_ house and set all the doors and windows wide +for more light. He was quite unconscious by that time, so Terence +O'Brien only had the chloroform handy, and kept his finger on the +pulse. Half-a-dozen or more of the boys were on the mud steps over +against the hospital compound waiting to hear the _shahbash wallah's_ +fate. But you might have heard a pin drop in the _post-mortem_, +save for the occasional quick request for this or that as the +Surgeon-Major, with the Surgeon-Captain's eyes watching him, set his +whole soul and heart and brain on doing something that had never been +done before. + +So the minutes passed. Was it to be failure or success? The +Surgeon-Major's fingers were deft--none defter. + +The minutes passed to hours. That which had to be done had to be done +with one touch light as a feather, steady as a rock, perfect in its +performance, or not at all. + +And still the minutes passed. Terence O'Brien's face was losing some +of its eagerness in sympathy, Dr. Pringle's gaining it in anxiety; for +clear, insistent, not-to-be-silenced doubt was making itself heard. +Only the _shahbash wallah_ cared not at all as he lay like a corpse. + +It had come to the last chance. The last; and Dr. Pringle, with a +pulse of wild resentment at his own weakness, realised that his nerve +was going, his hand shaking. Still, it had to be done. The splinter of +bone raised--the whole process he had thought out as the last chance +gone through. He steadied himself and began. Failure or success? +Failure--failure--failure! The word beat in on his heart and brain, +bringing unsteadiness to both. + +"Dresser, the chloroform," said Terence O'Brien, sharply; for there +was a quiver in the man's eyelids. + +But ere the deadening drug did its work, the _shahbash wallah's_ +brain, set free to work along familiar lines by the raising of that +splintered bone, had sent its old message to his lips-- + +"_Shahbash, bhaiyan, shahbash!_" + +In telling the story Dr. Pringle says no more; generally because he +cannot. + +But after a time, if you are a brother craftsman, he will give you all +details of the biggest and most successful operation he ever did. + +And though he is slow to allow the corollary, he never denies that the +_shahbash wallah's_ verdict put courage into him. + + + + + THE MOST NAILING BAD SHOT IN + CREATION + + +This again is one of poor Craddock's stories which he told me +when we were stretching a steel-edged ribbon of rail across shifting +sandhills; that ribbon uniting West to East on which, a few years +later, he met his death in trying to rid the permanent-way of +something which Fate had decreed should be permanently in the way. + +It happened in mutiny time; shortly after his appearance down the +King's Well, which is told elsewhere. He was serving as a volunteer in +one of the breastworks which, as the long hot-weather months dragged +by, began to seam and sear the face of the red rocks on the Ridge at +Delhi; creeping nearer and nearer to the red face of the city wall. + +And with him, as the catch phrase runs, "lay" Joe Banks, the +Yorkshireman; tall, stolid, silent. Good-looking also, with a thick +close crop of curly brown hair and hard, honest blue eyes. He was not +stupid by any means; only phenomenally silent, except when the talk +turned on women, and then, as Craddock put it tersely, he "damned +free"; perhaps because, as the latter worthy used to add with a +suspicion of sympathy in his drink-blurred face, he had "cared a sight +deal too much for one woman to 'ave much likin' left for the lot." + +To one side of the breastwork lay a dry ravine where every day the +vipers used to sun themselves on the hot red rocks. Just across it, +within range, rose a small Mahomedan shrine amid sparse brushwood, +which thickened a bit till it was barred by the ruined wall of a +garden where the slow oxen circled round the well, sending runnels of +slippery-looking water to the scented shade of citrons, roses, and +mangoes, heedless of the great cannon-balls which sometimes came +trundling, like playthings, down the wide walks. Not often, though, +for the stress of strife lay at the other angle of the breastwork +which faced the city wall. + +Still, those who came to smoke a hard-earned pipe in what was the +safest spot in the outpost, soon found that the pious-looking shrine, +the peaceful garden, were not always so innocent as they looked. In +the dusk of dark or dawn they were tenanted by what, after a time, the +men agreed to call the "most nailin' bad shot in creation." "The +direction wasn't, so to speak, so bad, sir," Craddock used to explain +to me. "'E'd about 'ave 'it the sea-serpent for length; it was the +elevation which, as Bull's-eyes said, savin' your presence, sir, was +d----ficient. The top o' the Monument was about in it, sir, an' that +was why the only feller as really use langwidge was Joe Banks; for 'e +was a 'ead and shoulders higher than the lot o' us." So when, in the +dark, a flash used to glimmer for a second among the brushwood like a +firefly, the men learnt to sing out, "That's for you, Joey," "Duck, my +darlin', duck," and other witticisms of that kind, until the big +Yorkshireman's face darkened beyond jesting-point: for he had the +devil's own temper when roused. It was this, joined to his extreme +good looks and a somewhat hazy recollection of the Bible and the +classics among the volunteers, which earned him the nickname of +Apollyon. So to soothe him, some of the wilder spirits would organise +a charge over the ravine, scattering, perhaps, a few drowsy adders +which had forgotten to go to bed; but nothing else. The blind old +fakeer in the shrine was always fast asleep, the bullocks in the +garden circling slowly, driven by a drowsy lad curled up behind them. + +So the days passed; and, despite practice, the Most Nailin' Bad Shot +shot badly as ever. The odds, however, as the men pointed out gravely +to Apollyon, kept on improving; so that sooner or later there must be +a "casualty" in the garrison of Number One outpost. Joey, too, would +get careless; he wouldn't smart enough, etc., etc. And, sure enough, +one evening just as the moonlight was mixing with the daylight, and +Joey Banks had risen to his full height in a huff because Craddock for +once had sided against him in the perennial argument as to whether it +was worth while fighting for women who didn't know what they would be +at, and hadn't the pluck of a mouse, one of these firefly flashes was +followed by a sudden clapping of the giant's hands to the very crown +of his head. + +"We looked, sir," Craddock used to say gravely, with that reminiscent +biblical knowledge of his which had doubtless supplied Apollyon, "for +'im to fall dead; as 'e deserve rich; for 'e'd been damnin' uncommon +free, sir. But 'e only use it worse. And then, savin' your presence, +sir, we see that 'e'd 'ad, so ter speak, a narrer-gauge line laid down +thro' 'is jungle--right through 'is curls, sir. Lordy! 'ow we laughed. +It was a lady, we told 'im, as wanted some locks an' no mistake. It +sorter made 'im mad, for 'e just stooped and gathered the lot--bein' +fair, you could see it shinin' in the dust--together. + +"'She shall 'ave 'em, never fear,' 'e says, quiet like. 'Yes! the +person who fired that shot shall 'ave more o' my 'air than he reckons +for.'" + +Just at that moment, however, one of those sudden alarms which for +three months kept the men and officers before Delhi on the alert by +day and night broke up the company, and so Joe Banks' loss passed out +of most minds. Except his own, of course. It lingered there, aided by +that narrow gauge over his brain on which the cool night wind blew +pleasantly. + +So when the alarm passed, instead of coming back to rest, he crept out +surreptitiously by the back of the breastwork, for such sorties were +strictly out of order, and so by a slant downwards across the ravine. +It was a brilliant moonlight night, and he caught the sparkle of many +a deadly pair of eyes among the rocks. But he was in no mood to step +aside from any danger, and once beyond fear of recall he strode along +straight as if the whole place belonged to him; it might have, for all +the opposition he met. The fakeer was asleep as usual, the oxen +circling round the well, and in the scented shade of the roses and +citrons he could find nothing save some drowsy birds who fluttered and +twittered helplessly as his tall head forced a way through the +thickets. + +Feeling ill-used, he set his face back towards the breastwork, until +the extraordinary peace of the moonlit scene, which, as Craddock +asserted, used in the interval of onslaught to make the beleaguered +city look like the New Jerusalem, brought him to a standstill; first +to look, then to take out his pipe; finally to sit on a rock and think +vaguely of the Yorkshire wolds and of some one, no doubt, who had not +had the courage of her convictions, for after a bit he murmured, "She +were a raight down coward, that's where it is, aw'm thinkin'." + +He had not much time for reflection, however, for at that moment there +was a flash, a crack, and something whizzed past his left ear. The +Most Nailin' Bad Shot was better at close quarters. His blood was up +in a second, and without pausing to pick up his musket, which he had +laid aside, he was off to the spot whence the flash had come. And +there! _whoop forward! gone away!_ was his quarry for sure, running +like a hare for some hiding-place, no doubt, among the rocks. It might +have been reached, for romance tells of many secret passages between +palaces inside the city and gardens without, but for a true lover's +knot of viper which refused to budge from the path; which made the +flying figure give a screech, and the flying feet, in their effort to +overleap it, miss footing and fall. + +The next instant Joe Banks was on it as it lay, and conscious even in +his hurry that what he gripped was something young and soft--a boy, no +doubt--devil's spawn. + +"Aw'm go[=a]n ter choak ye on t' hair," he said grimly. "Open yer +domed mouth, d'ye hear?" + +It was almost as if the prostrate figure understood; but the next +instant a set of gleaming white teeth had closed like a squirrel's +round Joe Banks' first finger. He let off an echoing yell to the +previous screech, and an oddly satisfied smile came to the fierce +little face he could scarcely see for his big hand. It was an oval +face, smooth as a girl's. + +"That's nowt to Joey Banks, lad, he can kill anoother waay," he +growled savagely, as he shifted a knee to press his prisoner down, +loosened his left hand, his right being detained, and deliberately +drew out one of the many knives stuck in his enemy's waistband. "Aw'll +lay t' hair abun tha' heaart, tha' wrigglin' worm, and driv it +ho[=a]m--that aw wull." + +In pursuance of which plan, he undid an embroidered satin waistcoat, +and began to push aside an inner muslin vest. A whiff of musk and +roses mingled with the moonlight. + +"Stinks and bites like a foumart," he muttered. "Soa lie thee still, +will tha? an' tak' that to thissen ma--gor amoighty!" + +Joe Banks was on his feet; so was his enemy. Both dazed, uncertain. +Flight seemed to come uppermost to the latter's thought, when the big +man suddenly laughed a low chuckle of sheer amusement. + +"An' t' coom like a wild cat at Joey Banks--that caps owt!" + +The next instant he was grappling with a whirlwind of knives and +nails, anything. + +"Woa! woa! ma lass! Hands off, tha little vixen, till a' git a look at +tha!" he said soothingly, as he prisoned two small hands in one huge +fist, and with the other held his adversary almost tenderly at arm's +length. What he saw, as he afterwards described it to Craddock, was +just a "moit o' pistols an' pouches." + +"Well! well! _Aw'm,--aw'm_ jiggered!" he exclaimed at last; adding +argumentatively, "Whatten iver mad tha' go fur t' do it, tha foolish +lass?" + +Something in his broad, not unkindly rebuke seemed to take the starch +out of the Most Nailin' Bad Shot. It seemed to cower in on itself and +become smaller; though, as Joe Banks told himself perplexedly, it had +been small enough to begin with. + +"Well, aw _am_ jiggered," he repeated more softly. "Whatten iver mad +tha' do it, ma lass?" + +The answer was feminine and disconcerting; a sudden storm of tears. So +they stood, the quaintest couple in the world. She bristling with cold +steel of sorts; he bareheaded in the moonlight, with nothing but his +hands for weapons. + +"Dunnot," he said soothingly, not without a certain trepidation. "Aw'm +no[=a]n go[=a]n t' hurt thee, ma gell. We'm not thaat soort t' +womenkind; an' tha's a main pratty gell." Here he laughed softly; a +laugh that was lost in a third-- + +"Wall, aw'm _jiggered_." + +He appeared to be so, for he ceased thrusting her from him--she being, +indeed, too much engaged with tears to make it dangerous--and passed +his hand over his forehead as if to clear his brain. + +"Aw'm no[=a]n go[=a]n t' hurt tha, ma lass," he repeated suddenly, as +if for his own information. "Aw'm nobbut go[=a]n t' shame tha' fur +tha' badness." + +And with that he lifted her right up like a baby, sate down on a +neighbouring rock, and set her on his knee. + +"Thou'rt as light as a feather," he said almost admiringly. "An' t' +coom at Jooey Banks like a wild cat; for sure it caps owt; but thou'rt +a bad gell, an' mun be shamed. So set tha still an' be doon wi' it." + +Once more he might have claimed comprehension, for the Most Nailin' +Bad Shot sate still; with the half-wicked, half-frightened look of a +curious squirrel, as one by one he transferred knives and pistols to +his own person. It was rather a lengthy business by reason of his +right hand--the one that had been bitten--being still occupied in +prisoning hers. Not that she struggled; on the contrary, she sate +curiously still, checking even her sobs. + +"Now for t' hair," he went on methodically, pulling off the large +green turban wound around the small head. He sate half perturbed and +breathless after this was done, and the half-wicked, half-frightened +dark eyes watching him, seemed to admit a faint smile. + +"Whew-w-w," he said under his breath, "it's long, for sartin sure." It +was, and a faint scent of orange-blossom assailed him as he loosed the +plaits. His hand trembled among them a little, and lingered. + +"Aw mun be as good's ma word," he muttered, "as Joey Banks' word. See +tha here--sit tha still, there's a good lass, an' let me hurry up; +wilt thee?" There was almost an appeal in his voice, and both hands +shook a little as the long black tresses twined themselves about the +big fingers like snakes. + +"Aw'm no[=a]n go[=a]n t' hurt," he reiterated blandly; when, perhaps +fortunately, the whole bewildering face before him relapsed into a +mischievous smile, and one small finger pointed derisively to the +crown of his head. He flushed up scarlet. + +"Thee'm nobbut a wicked, bad gell," he said fiercely, "an' Joey +Banks'll shame tha--a bold hussy." So he set her on her feet, and +attacked her last bit of masculinity. This was a long, green waistband +wound about her middle, and which had carried a score or so of +pistols, yataghans, and Heaven knows what murderous weapons. Of this +portion of the toilette Craddock said it was hard to get Joey Banks to +speak at all, and when he did, his voice dropped to a whisper, and he +looked positively scared. She was so main slender, he said, that he +thought he would never have done unwinding, though after a bit she +helped cheerfully by twiddling like a teetotum. At last, however, she +stood there, slim, girlish, her long hair shimmering, her dark eyes +shining, half with tears, half with smiles. + +"'An' then, Joey?' I arst 'im, sir, when 'e sate mumchance," Craddock +interpolated. + +"Aw out wi' 'Fower angels rouand ma bed,' man, an' a' up wi' her in ma +arms, an' a' kissed her fair an' oft, man, fair an' oft, just t' shame +her, an' a' runned awaay. That's what a' did--aw runned awaay." + +Half-way across the ravine, however, he paused to pick up his musket +and look back. The Most Nailin' Bad Shot in creation was standing +where he had left her, her face hidden in her hands. For an instant +something tore at his heart, bidding him go back; then he set his +teeth with an oath, and ran on. Five minutes afterwards he had slipped +into a favourite cranny of rock beside Craddock and was puffing away +at his pipe as if nothing had happened, absolutely silent, till, +according to the latter's report, he "give a silly sort of laugh," and +in the moonlight his eyes could be seen shining like stars as he +turned and said softly-- + +"Well, lad--a' ha' dune it this toime." + +"Done what, Apollyon?" asked Craddock. + +"A' dunnot roightly kna', but a' ha' dune it, for sartin sure," +replied Joe Banks, succinctly; and then he told the story. + +"One of them _gazes_[1] as they call 'em," interrupted Craddock, when +the big man told of his discovery in a sort of hushed voice. "They +makes 'em male an' female--the latter most wicious. Bad lots out o' +the bazaar, needin' a passport to the skies--or the devil." + + +--------------------- + +[Footnote 1: _Ghazie_--religious fanatic.] + +--------------------- + + +Joey Banks' big fist came down like a sledgehammer on Craddock's knee. + +"Hush, mon!" he said peremptorily. "She woan't none that sort. When a' +kissed her--" he stopped short, and blushed furiously. + +"Apollyon!" remarked Craddock, after a pause, with great severity. "It +ain't wholesome to keep sech things comfortable in yer own buzzum. +It's better to 'ave up an' done with it an' begin agin. When you kiss +her--w'ot then?" + +But Joe Banks' shining eyes were looking out into the soft darkness, +soft and dark for all their shininess. "A' meant to 'a' keppen +coont--but a' didn't somehow." His voice was quite dreamy, and +Craddock rose in wrath. + +"It's my belief, same as I was in the catechising, Joey Banks, +that you bin an' fallen in love with a female _gaze_; but mark my +word--there ain't no gratitoode to speak of in _gazes_, and she'll +nick you yet, sure as my name's Nathaniel James. She'll nick you yet, +I du assure you." + +But Craddock was wrong. Whatever else she did, the Most Nailin' Bad +Shot shot no more. Not that it mattered much to Joey Banks whether she +did or not, since but a few days after there was a "casoolty" in +Number One outpost, Volunteer Joseph Banks, sometime canal overseer, +was reported missing after a sortie; but as he had been last seen +mortally wounded close to the city wall, his comrades mourned Apollyon +from the first as dead. So as Craddock said feelingly, "there weren't +even a lock o' 'is 'air for 'is old mother, an' she was a widder." + +Not that there was much time for mourning in the outpost, since the +long months of the siege were drawing to a close. Then came the final +assault, the ten days of struggle within the city, until even the +Palace was ours, and the army which had taken it prepared to move on +elsewhere. It was the evening before the start, and Craddock, who, as +a volunteer, had more liberty to go and come as he chose, went down to +the now deserted outpost to smoke a last pipe, and think over the past +with the pleasing melancholy which goes so admirably with tobacco. + +"Poor Joey Banks!" he thought, as memory came round to that episode, +"'im an' 'is female _gaze_. I shan't never forget 'em." + +I will tell the rest in Craddock's own words; they suit it. + +"I look up, sir, an' you might 'ave knock me over with a ninepin, for +there was Joey, lookin' as spry as spry. 'Joey,' says I, takin' it as +one does, sir, for all them sayin's of ninepins and feathers and such +like, quite calm, 'so you're not dead?' + +"'Na! lad,' he says back, as calm like. 'Aw'm go[=a]n t' be married, +an' a've coom t' get t' best man.' + +"It took me all of a 'eap, sir, sorter Malachi an' the minor prophets, +sir, as things does sometimes. 'Joey, my boy,' I says, 'you ain't +never goin' to marry a female _gaze?_' says I. + +"But 'e was, sir. Ter cut a long story short, she'd found 'im an' +nursed him. An' we all knows wot that means, white or black, sir. 'E'd +a 'eap to tell--though Lord knows where 'e got it, for 'e didn't know +no 'Industani to speak of, sir--about 'ow she lived in quite a fine +'ouse an' 'ow her father an' brothers 'ad bin killed, so as she kinder +'adn't no choice but _gazing_. But I wasn't to be took with chaff, so +I says to 'im quite solemn like, 'Afore I'm best man, I've got to +know, Joey--is she square?' 'E just looked at me, sir, as if I were +slush. + +"'She'd gotten ma hair in t' buzzum,' he said, an' said no moor. + +"So I gave my word to be best man, sir, an' 'e sighed like as a weight +was took off him. 'Then coom awa' wi' me t' passon,' says 'e, 'fur I'm +go[=a]n t' be marrid afoor aw goes with t' army to-morer.' + +"'Then you've 'ad the banns cried,' says I, for my father bein' +bell-ringer same as give me my name in 'oly baptism, sir, I was up to +them dodges. 'E give me a real Apollyon frown, sir. + +"'Na, lad; aw've no[=a]n had nought cried, but aw'm go[=a]n t' wed her +fair afoor a' fight, so save t' breath an' coom t' passon.' + +"Well, sir, parson wasn't a bad chap, as I knowed, 'aving seen 'im +doing dooty stiddily like the rest o' us, but 'e'd got 'is black coat +on agin, an' 'e were by nature, the canonised red bricky sort; so 'e +wouldn't none o' it, though I stood solemn for Joe like as if I bin +godfather, tellin' 'im 'ow Joe would 'ave bin a deader but for 'er, +an' 'ow she was willin' to become a Christian in 'oly baptism wen she +'ad a chanst, an' 'ow Joe wouldn't never 'ave bin in a 'urry without +bridesmaids but for bein' that eager to fight 'is country's foes +agin--for of course, sir, 'e 'adn't 'ad a look in at anythin' but +beef-tea an' barley water till we took the city. + +"'Why doesn't he wait decently till he comes back?' says parson. 'The +sacrament of marriage is not a responsibility to be entered into +unawares, my good--' + +"Joe rose up--Lord bless you!--two 'eads taller nor parson. 'Coom +awa'! best man,' 'e says. 'It's waaste toime heere, an' aw'll need tha +at t' mosque; passon theer ar'n't so scrumfumptious, an' she towt ma +t' Kulma this marnin' foor fear'--that's their creed, sir, same as the +_Gazes_, male an' female, yell when they're a stickin' of you. + +"Well parson 'e brought up sharp at this an' said, 'Stay a bit.' Then +'e look at Joe, an' Joe look at 'im. + +"'Tha see she's gotten t' be ma wife, man,' said Joe apologetic like, +an' parson 'e push 'is red bricky prayer-book away fretful. + +"'But I don't know anything,' he said. 'I don't even know if she is a +spinster or a widow. Will you swear she hasn't a husband living?' + +"Well, sir, Joe looked at parson, and then 'e looked at me, an' then +'e scratch 'is 'ead--the curls 'ad grown tight as ever, sir--an' then +sudden 'e smile--one o' them smiles like the sun on a daisy, sir. + +"' Aw dunnot rightly knaw,' says 'e, 'aw nivver arst her,' an' parson +'e look at me an' at 'im and at the solemnisation o' 'oly matrimony as +'f 'e didn't know which was which. + +"Well, the end o' it was that the three o' us went down to one o' them +light an' shady open-air houses with a tree growin' out o' a wall, and +a lot o' pigeons. Parson 'e stood in one o' the arches raise up a step +or two, an' they stood in the space below, right in the sun, an' I +stood 'twixt an' between, for you see, sir, I was clerk as well as +best man. + +"'Will you take this woman to be thy wedded wife?' arst parson. + +"'Such is my desire,' says I, in order; but Joe Banks wouldn't none o' +that. + +"'Fur better fur worse,' 'e says, 'fur richer fur poorer, domed if a' +doan't.' + +"So 'e was wedded to the Most Nailin' Bad Shot in creation." + +"And was she pretty?" I asked of Craddock. + +He shook his head. "I niver set eyes on her, sir, though I was best +man. She was wrap up in a white veil, an' 'e kep' her so--said she +liked it--they does, sir, when they've got a good 'usband." + +"So they lived happy ever after?" + +"Not for long, sir--" here Craddock slipped his hands into his pockets +as the first step towards slouching off. "That sort o' thing don't +somehow last long, sir," here his eyes caught the gold of the setting +sun, as they had a trick of doing when they grew soft. "Seems to +me--savin' your presence, sir--as if there was too much o' the Noo +Jerewsalem about that sort o' thing fur this world; that's 'ow it is. +She died, sir, a few years after, when 'e was back in the Canals, in a +God-forsaken spot, where there wasn't no one to--to be best man like. +An' so they found 'im lying beside 'er with a bullet in 'is brain. So +I was a minor prophet after all, an' Joey Banks got nicked at last by +the Most Nailin' Bad Shot in creation." + + + + + THE REFORMER'S WIFE + + A SKETCH FROM LIFE + + +He was a dreamer of dreams, with the look in his large dark eyes, +which Botticelli put into the eyes of his Moses; that Moses in doublet +and hose, whose figure, isolated from its surroundings, reminds one +irresistibly of Christopher Columbus, or Vasco da Gama--of those, in +fact, who dream of a Promised Land. + +And this man dreamt as wild a dream as any. He hoped, before he died, +to change the social customs of India. + +He used to sit in my drawing-room, talking to me by the hour of the +Prophet and his blessed Fatma--for he was a Mahomedan--and bewailing +the sad degeneracy of these present days, when caste had crept into +and defiled the Faith. I shall never forget the face of martyred +enthusiasm with which he received my first invitation to dinner. He +accepted it, as he would have accepted the stake, with fervour, and +indeed to his ignorance the ordeal was supreme. However, he appeared +punctual to the moment on the appointed day, and greatly relieved my +mind by partaking twice of plum-pudding, which he declared to be a +surpassingly cool and most digestible form of nourishment, calculated +to soothe both body and mind. Though this is hardly the character +usually assigned to it, I did not contradict him, for not even his +eager self-sacrifice had sufficed for the soup, the fish, or the +joint, and he might otherwise have left the table in a starving +condition. As it was, he firmly set aside my invitation to drink water +after the meal was over, with the modest remark that he had not eaten +enough to warrant the indulgence. + +The event caused quite a stir in that far-away little town, set out +among the ruins of a great city, on the high bank of one of the Punjab +rivers; for the scene of this sketch lay out of the beaten track, +beyond the reach of _babus_ and barristers, patent-leather shoes and +progress. Beyond the pale of civilisation altogether, among a quaint +little colony of fighting Pathans who still pointed with pride to an +old gate or two which had withstood siege after siege, in those old +fighting days when the river had flowed beneath the walls of the city. +Since then the water had ebbed seven miles to the south-east, taking +with it the prestige of the stronghold, which only remained a +picturesque survival; a cluster of four-storeyed purple-brick houses +surrounded by an intermittent purple-brick wall, bastioned and +loop-holed. A formidable defence, while it lasted. But it had a trick +of dissolving meekly into a sort of mud hedge, in order to gain the +next stately fragment, or maybe to effect an alliance with one of the +frowning gateways which had defied assault. This condition of things +was a source of sincere delight to my Reformer Futteh Deen (Victory of +Faith) who revelled in similes. It was typical of the irrational, +illogical position of the inhabitants in regard to a thousand +religious and social questions, and just as one brave man could break +through these sham fortifications, so one resolute example would +suffice to capture the citadel of prejudice, and plant the banner of +abstract Truth on its topmost pinnacle. + +For he dreamt excellently well, and as he sate declaiming his Persian +and Arabic periods in the drawing-room with his eyes half shut, like +one in presence of some dazzling light, I used to feel as if something +might indeed be done to make the Mill of God grind a little faster. + +In the matter of dining out, indeed, it seemed as if he was right. For +within a week of his desperate plunge, I received an invitation to +break bread with the municipal committee in the upper storey of the +Vice-President's house. The request, which was emblazoned in gold, +engrossed on silk paper in red and black, and enclosed in a brocade +envelope, was signed by the eleven members and the Reformer; who, by +the way, edited a ridiculous little magazine to which the committee +subscribed a few rupees a month. Solely for the purpose of being able +to send copies to their friends at court, and show that they were in +the van of progress. For a man must be that, who is patron of a +"Society for the General Good of All Men in All Countries." I was, I +confess it, surprised, even though a casual remark that now perhaps +his Honour the Lieutenant-Governor would no longer suspect his slaves +of disloyalty, showed me that philanthropy had begun at home. For the +little colony bore a doubtful character, being largely leavened by the +new Puritanism, which Government, for reasons best known to itself, +chooses to confound with Wahabeeism. + +The entertainment given on the roof amid starshine and +catherine-wheels proved a magnificent success, its great feature being +an enormous plum-pudding which I was gravely told had been prepared by +my own cook. At what cost, I shudder to think; but the rascal's +grinning face as he placed it on the table convinced me that he had +seized the opportunity for some almost inconceivable extortion. But +there was no regret in those twelve grave, bearded faces, as one by +one they tasted and approved. All this happened long before a +miserable, exotic imitation of an English vestry replaced the old +patrician committees, and these men were representatives of the +bluest blood in the neighbourhood, many of them descendants of those +who in past times had held high offices of state, and had transmitted +courtly manners to their children. So the epithets bestowed on the +plum-pudding were many-syllabled; but the consensus of opinion was +indubitably towards its coolness, its digestibility, and its evident +property of soothing the body and the mind. Again I did not deny it. +How could I, out on the roof under the eternal stars, with those +twelve foreign faces showing, for once, a common bond of union with +the Feringhee? I should have felt like Judas Iscariot if I had struck +the thirteenth chord of denial. + +The Reformer made a speech afterwards, I remember, in which, being +wonderfully well read, he alluded to love-feasts and sacraments, and a +coming millennium, when all nations of the world should meet at one +table, and--well! not exactly eat plum-pudding together, but something +very like it. Then we all shook hands, and a native musician played +something on the _siringhi_ which they informed me was "God Save the +Queen." It may have been. I only know that the Reformer's thin face +beamed with almost pitiful delight as he told me triumphantly that +this was only the beginning. + +He was right. From that time forth the plum-pudding feast became a +recognised function. Not a week passed without one. Generally--for my +gorge rose at the idea of my cook's extortion--in the summer-house in +my garden, where I could have an excuse for providing the delicacy at +my own expense. And I am bound to say that this increased intimacy +bore other fruits than that contained in the pudding. For the matter +of that it has continued to bear fruit, since I can truthfully date +the beginning of my friendship for the people of India from the days +when we ate plum-pudding together under the starshine. + +The Reformer was radiant. He formed himself and his eleven into +committees and subcommittees for every philanthropical object under +the sun, and many an afternoon have I spent under the trees with my +work watching one deputation after another retire behind the oleander +hedge in order to permutate itself by deft rearrangement of members, +secretaries, and vice-presidents into some fresh body bent on the +regeneration of mankind. For life was leisureful, lingering and +lagging along in the little town where there was neither doctor nor +parson, policeman nor canal officer, nor in fact any white face save +my own and my husband's. Still we went far and fast in a cheerful, +unreal sort of way. We started schools and debating societies, public +libraries and technical art classes. Finally we met enthusiastically +over an extra-sized plum-pudding, and bound ourselves over to reduce +the marriage expenditure of our daughters. + +The Reformer grew more radiant than ever, and began in the +drawing-room--where it appeared to me he hatched all his most daring +schemes--to talk big about infant marriage, enforced widowhood, and +the seclusion of women. The latter I considered to be the key to the +whole position, and therefore I felt surprised at the evident +reluctance with which he met my suggestion, that he should begin his +struggle by bringing his wife to visit me. He had but one, although +she was childless. This was partly, no doubt, in deference to his +advanced theories; but also, at least so I judged from his +conversation, because of his unbounded admiration for one who by his +description was a pearl among women. In fact this unseen partner had +from the first been held up to me as a refutation of all my strictures +on the degradation of seclusion. So, to tell truth, I was quite +anxious to see this paragon, and vexed at the constant ailments and +absences which prevented our becoming acquainted. The more so because +this shadow of hidden virtue fettered me in argument, for Futteh Deen +was an eager patriot, full of enthusiasms for India and the Indians. +Once the sham fortifications were scaled, he assured me that +Hindustan, and above all its women, would come to the front and put +the universe to shame. Yet, despite his successes, he looked haggard +and anxious; at the time I thought it was too much progress and +plum-pudding combined, but afterwards I came to the conclusion that +his conscience was ill at ease, even then. + +So the heat grew apace. The fly-catchers came to dart among the +_sirus_ flowers and skim round the massive dome of the old tomb in +which we lived. The melons began to ripen, first by ones and twos, +then in thousands--gold, and green, and russet. The corners of the +streets were piled with them, and every man, woman, and child carried +a crescent moon of melon at which they munched contentedly all day +long. Now, even with the future good of humanity in view, I could not +believe in the safety of a mixed diet of melon and plum-pudding, +especially when cholera was flying about. Therefore, on the next +committee-day I had a light and wholesome refection of sponge-cakes +and jelly prepared for the philanthropists. They partook of it +courteously, but sparingly. It was, they said, superexcellent, but of +too heating and stimulating a nature to be consumed in quantities. In +vain I assured them that it could be digested by the most delicate +stomach; that it was, in short, a recognised food for convalescents. +This only confirmed them in their view, for, according to the Yunani +system, an invalid diet must be heating, strengthening, stimulating. +Somehow in the middle of their upside-down arguments I caught myself +looking pitifully at the Reformer, and wondering at his temerity in +tilting at the great mysterious mass of Eastern wisdom. + +And that day, in deference to my Western zeal, he was to tilt wildly +at the _zenana_ system. + +His address fell flat, and for the first time I noticed a distinctly +personal flavour in the discussion. Hitherto we had resolved and +recorded gaily, as if we ourselves were disinterested spectators. +However, the Vice-President apologised for the general tone, with a +side slash at exciting causes in the jelly and sponge-cake, whereat +the other ten wagged their heads sagely, remarking that it was +marvellous, stupendous, to feel the blood running riot in their veins +after those few mouthfuls. Verily such food partook of magic. Only the +Reformer dissented, and ate a whole sponge-cake defiantly. + +Even so the final Resolution ran thus: "That this committee views with +alarm any attempt to force the natural growth of female freedom, which +it holds to be strictly a matter for the individual wishes of the +man." Indeed it was with difficulty that I, as secretary, avoided the +disgrace of having to record the spiteful rider, "And that if any +member wanted to unveil the ladies he could begin on his own wife." + +I was young then in knowledge of Eastern ways, and consequently +indignant. The Reformer, on the other hand, was strangely humble, +and tried afterwards to evade the major point by eating another +sponge-cake, and making a facetious remark about experiments and vile +bodies; for he was a mine of quotations, especially from the Bible, +which he used to wield to my great discomfiture. + +But on the point at issue I knew he could scarcely go against his own +convictions, so I pressed home his duty of taking the initiative. He +agreed, gently. By-and-by, perhaps, when his wife was more fit for the +ordeal. And it was natural, even the _mem-sahiba_ must allow, for +unaccustomed modesty to shrink. She was to the full as devoted as he +to the good cause, but at the same time--Finally, the _mem-sahiba_ +must remember that women were women all over the world--even though +occasionally one was to be found like the _mem-sahiba_ capable of +acting as secretary to innumerable committees without a blush. There +was something so wistful in his eager blending of flattery and excuse +that I yielded for the time, though determined in the end to carry my +point. + +With this purpose I reverted to plum-puddings once more, and, I fear, +to gross bribery of all kinds in the shape of private interviews and +soft words. Finally I succeeded in getting half the members to consent +to sending their wives to an after-dark at-home in my drawing-room, +provided always that Mir Futteh Deen, the Reformer, would set a good +example. + +He looked troubled when I told him, and pointed out that the +responsibility for success or failure now lay virtually with him, yet +he did not deny it. + +I took elaborate precautions to ensure the most modest seclusion on +the appointed evening, even to sending my husband up a ladder to the +gallery at the very top of the dome to smoke his after-dinner cigar. I +remember thinking how odd it must have looked to him perched up there +to see the twinkling lights of the distant city over the soft shadows +of the _ferash_ trees, and at his feet the glimmer of the white +screens set up to form a conventional _zenan-khana_. But I waited in +vain--in my best dress, by the way. No one came, though my ayah +assured me that several jealously-guarded _dhoolies_ arrived at the +garden-gate and went away again when Mrs. Futteh Deen never turned up. + +I was virtuously indignant with the offender, and the next time he +came to see me sent out a message that I was otherwise engaged. I felt +a little remorseful at having done so, however, when, committee-day +coming round, the Reformer was reported on the sick-list. And there he +remained until after the first rain had fallen, bringing with it the +real Indian spring--the spring full of roses and jasmines, of which +the poets and the bul-buls sing. By this time the novelty had worn off +philanthropy and plum-pudding, so that often we had a difficulty in +getting a quorum together to resolve anything; and I, personally, had +begun to weary for the dazzled eyes and the eager voice so full of +sanguine hope. + +Therefore it gave me a pang to learn from the Vice-President, who, +being a Government official, was a model of punctuality, that in all +probability I should never hear or see either one or the other again. +Futteh Deen was dying of the rapid decline which comes so often to the +Indian student. + +A recurrence of a vague remorse made me put my pride in my pocket and +go unasked to the Reformer's house, but my decision came too late. He +had died the morning of my visit, and I think I was glad of it. + +For the paragon of beauty and virtue, of education and refinement, was +a very ordinary woman, years older than my poor Reformer, marked with +the small-pox, and blind of one eye. Then I understood. + + + + + THE SQUARING OF THE GODS + + +It was the night before the great Eclipse. A vast, vague expectancy +brooded over the length and breadth of India. Of prophesying there had +been no lack, for signs and wonders had been as blackberries in +September. + +So, far and near, east, west, south, and north, the people of +Hindustan--many-hued, many-raced, many-faithed--were watching for they +knew not what, watching with grave, silent, yet curious composure. + +But there was no outward sign of this inward expectation on either +side. The millions of dark faces behind which it lay were as +inscrutable as the telegraph wires through which the mere fraction of +white faces responsible for the safety of those millions of dark ones +were flashing silent messages of warning and preparation. + +And here, in the Sacred City, beside the Sacred River, in which +multitudes of those millions hoped to bathe on the morrow during the +fateful moments of the sun's eclipse, the dim curves of the world had +never been outlined against a calmer, more restful sky--a sky almost +black in its intensity of shadow. Yet the night was clear, full of a +starlight that could be seen, which showed the bend of the broad +river, angled on one side by the straight lines of its curved sequence +of bathing-steps that swept away to the horizon on either side. + +The steps themselves, shadowy, vague, were spangled as with stars by +the little trembling lamps of the myriads on myriads of pilgrims +already gathered on them waiting for the dawn. The reflection of these +lamps lay in the water beside the reflection of the stars, making it +hard to tell where heaven ended, where earth begun. + +Behind this long length of bathing-steps--irregular in height, in +slope, in everything save an inevitable crowning by the tall temple +spires--lay Benares. Benares, the only city in the world--since the +reputation of Rome lives by works as well as faith--whose every stone +tells of that search after righteousness which lies so close to the +heart of humanity. Benares, with its sunless alleys, full of the +perfume of dead flowers and spent incense--alleys which thread their +way past shrine after shrine, holy place after holy place; mere niches +in a worn stone, perhaps, or less even than that; only the bare +imprint of a bloody hand on the tall, blank walls of the crowded +tenement houses which seem to narrow God's sky as they rise up toward +it. Benares, where the alien master steps into the gutter to let a +swinging corpse pass on its way to the Sacred River, but where the +priest behind it--his dark forehead barred with white, or smeared with +a bold patch of ochre--steps into the opposite gutter, and clings to +the shrine-set wall like a limpet, lest he be defiled by a touch, a +shadow. Benares, which is, briefly, the strangest, saddest city on +God's earth. + +It lay this night, far as the eye could reach along the outward curve +of the Ganges, dreamful exceedingly, dimly paler than the sky. But on +the other side of the river, where the land bulged into the stream, +lay a scene as, dreamful; yet dreamful in a different way; for here, +almost from the water's edge, the young green wheat stretched away +into that level plain of India, the most densely populated +agricultural country in the world, where myriads and myriads of men +live content as the cattle with which they till the soil. + +So a whole world lies between these two banks of the Ganges; between +the men of whom pilgrims are made, and the pilgrims made of those men. +And spanning them, joining them, aggressively, unsympathetically, is +the railway bridge built by the alien "Bridge-builders." + +Seen in the starlight, with its lattice of dark girders showing +against the sky, its white piers blocking the water-slide at +intervals, this bridge looked quaintly like a fell and monstrous hairy +caterpillar out for a night-walking, one of those caterpillars with +turreted excrescences at its former and its latter end. The hinder one +here was clearly outlined against a distant block of greater darkness. +This was a dense grove of mango trees; and through its far-off shadow +shone twinkling coloured lights, while from it came fitfully, at the +wind's caprice, a faint sound of drumming, a twangling of _sitaras_; +for, in the shelter of the grove, some of the white faces who were +responsible for the dark ones were in camp--in a pleasure-camp full of +guests come to see the show, and whither the telegrams of warning +flashed and whence the answers flashed back, even while the _nautch_, +bidden to amuse those guests, went on and on in twanglings, drummings, +screechings, posturings. + +Such details, however, were hidden even from the nearest point of the +angled curve of bathing-steps which swept right away to the starlit +horizon on the opposite side of the river. The only movement visible +thence by the waiting crowd, as it looked across the river, was a +curious dazzling flicker, as if the bridge were shivering, which was +caused by the continuous stream on its outer footway of arriving +pilgrims, showing now against the dark girders, now against the paler +sky. + +"Mai Gunga hath her hands full!" murmured one of the group squatting +immovable on these nearest steps; "they come, and come." + +A face or two, patient, dark, turned to the bridge, and another voice +came, calm, passive. + +"Ay! 'tis easier for folk to find salvation with 'rails' and bridges +than, as of old, with blistered feet and boats." A dark hand nearest +the water's lip, as it lapped a lazy, silvery whisper on the worn +stone steps, slid into the sacred flood with a sort of tentative +caress. + +"Yet they said _She_ would revenge Herself for the rending of Her +bosom, for the burden of bricks laid on Her; but She hath not. She +gives and takes as ever." + +The long, dark fingers gathered some of the fallen petals which the +river was returning to those who had cast their flower-offering on its +surface, and the dark eyes watched a white-swathed corpse that was +drifting down stream, a faint streak in the slumbering shadow. + +"True!" came another passive voice; "but the time is not past. There +is to-morrow yet." + +The absolutely unrepresentable _chuck!_ made by the tongue against the +roof of the mouth, which is the most emphatic denial of India, echoed +suddenly, aggressively, into the peaceful air. + +It came from the blackness of a low masonry abutment which, traversing +the last three steps, projected a few feet into the river, like a +pier. A yard maybe above the water, some three long, and perhaps a +couple broad, there was just room on its outer end for a small square +temple with a rude spiked spire--the plainest of temples, guiltless of +ornament, looking out over the Ganges blankly. For its only aperture, +a low arched doorway, faced the steps and showed now as a blot of +utter darkness. + +"Not She, brethren!" said a cracked voice following on the denial. +"She or Her like will never harm the _Huzoors!_ They have paid their +toll, see you, they have squared the gods." + +A dozen or more faces turned to the voice, the figures belonging to +them remaining immovable, as if carved in stone. + +"Dost think so really, Baha-_jee?_" came a question. "I have heard +that tale before--and that 'tis done in the 'Magic-houses.'"[2] + + +--------------------- + +[Footnote 2: The natives call Freemasonry Lodges by this name.] + +--------------------- + + +The emphatic denial rose again. "Not so! These eyes saw it done--here, +in this very place, forty years ago! here, at Mai Kali's shrine!" + +In the pause that followed, a pair of claw-like hands could be seen +above the bar of shadow, wavering salaams to the little temple, in the +perfunctory manner of priesthood all over the world. + +"'Tis old Bishen, the flower-seller," said a yawning voice. "He was +here in the Time of Trouble,[3] and he tells tales of it--when he +remembers!" + + +--------------------- + +[Footnote 3: The Mutiny.] + +--------------------- + + +"Then let him tell," yawned another, "since the night is long and the +dawn lingers. How was't done, Baha-_jee?_" + +There was a pause. + +"Many ways, doubtless. Here and there different ways. But here, one +way. Forty years ago, brothers! Yea, forty years ago, these eyes saw +the 'squaring of the gods.' In this wise ..." + +There was another dreamful pause, and then, from the shadow, came the +old thin voice once more. + +"Yonder, where the bridge stands now, was Broon-_sahib's_ house--" + +"Broon-_sahib?_" echoed a curious listener. "Dost mean Broon-_sahib_ +who built the bridge?" + +"Who built the bridge?" hesitated the tale-teller. "God knows! More +like his son; for the years pass--they pass, Mai Gunga! and I grow +old. Grant me this last cleansing, Mother! Wash me from sin ere I go +hence ..." + +"Lo! thou hast made him forget the rest," reproved another listener, +"as if there were not Broon-_sahibs_ ever! Even now, here in Benares! +Yes! Baba-_jee_, of a certainty, Broon-_sahib's_ house stood here, +where the bridge stands now." + +The old memory, started afresh, went on. + +"It was a boy, the child. A toddler, but with the temper of tigers. +Lo! it would scream and yell in the _ayah's_ arms, and beat her face +to be let crawl down the steps to pull the spent bosses of the +marigolds out of the water and fling them back like balls. A mite of a +boy; white as jasmine in the face, yellow as the marigolds themselves +in hair. The _mem_, its mother, had the like face and hair. I used to +see her in the verandah over the river, and driving above the steps. +There were many _sahibs_ came and went to the house, after their +fashion, and she smiled and spoke to them all. There was one of +them--so young, he might have been a son almost--who came often; and +she smiled on him, too, as he played, like a boy, with the child. He +was one of the _sahibs_ who have eyes; so, after a time, he would nod +to me and say '_Ram! Ram!_' with a laugh as he passed above me, +sitting here in the shadow, selling my garlands. + +"So, one day, as he came by, there was the baby screaming in its +_ayah's_ arms to be let crawl to the water, and she was denying it by +the _mem's_ orders. What the young _sahib_ said at first I know not; +but after a bit he came running down the steps, the child in his arms, +calling back to the woman, in her tongue, 'Trouble not, _ayah!_ I'll +square it, never fear!' + +"And there he was beside me, the two white faces, the yellow +heads--for he was but a boy himself, slim, white, yellow-haired--close +together, brother-like, buying a garland of the biggest marigolds I +had. So down at the water's edge, he teaching the child how to throw +them in like a thrower. + +"'No underhand work, brotherling,' he said in our tongue, for the +baby, after the fashion of the _baba-logue_, knew none other. 'So! +straight from the shoulder. Bravo! Thou wilt play crickets, by-and-by, +like a man.' + +"After that once of chance, it came often of set purpose. He would +come down from the house with the child, and I had to keep the biggest +marigolds for the game, since, see you, they held the bits of brick +better with which he weighted them. + +"Thus it went on till one day all the _sahibs_ and _mems_ were at the +house yonder, for God knows what amusement! and in the cool they +strolled down here--the _mems_ dressed so gay, the _sahibs_ all black +and smoking--to see how well the toddler, who could scarce speak, had +learnt to throw. At least, so it seemed, for they watched and laughed; +but after a time they took to throwing the flowers themselves, +laughing more and jesting, until not a marigold was left. Then they +began on Shivjee's _dhatura_ blossoms, filling their white horns with +pebbles, and hurling them far, far into the stream. + +"So, when paying time came, the young _sahib_--he had the child by the +hand--flung rupees into my empty basket, and said, 'Lo! Bishen'--for +he was one of those who remember names--'those who seek to curry +favour with the gods will have no chance to-day. We are beforehand. We +have squared them.' + +"At this the _mem_, standing close by, frowned and spoke some reproof; +maybe because she was of those who drive to church often. But the boy +only laughed, and, catching the child up, cried, 'Lo! brotherling, +then are we sinners indeed; since we do it so often, you and I!' + +"And with that he raced up the steps with the child, calling '_Ram, +Ram!_' and '_Jai Kali Ma!_' like any worshipper; so that the _mem_ and +the others strolling after could not but laugh. And some echoed the +cry as they went up the steps." + +The old voice paused in its even sing-song; and when it began again, +there was a new note in it which seemed to bring a sense of hurry and +stress even to that uttermost peace. + +"But they came down again. How long after matters not. I see them so +in my old eyes. Going up, laughing in the sunset, then returning. It +was starlight when they came down, the _mems_ and the _sahibs_ and the +_baba-logue_. Starlight as it was now, brethren, but not still, like +this. There were cries, and flames yonder, and folk running. + +"The boats lay here below the temple. And one--a Mahomedan--came with +them, promising safety. So they begun to get into the boats, and one +moved off, the crowd looking on. Then suddenly, God knows why! it +ceased looking on, and began to kill. They were half in, half out of +the boat; the _sahib-logue_ and some cried to stop, some to go on. But +the _mems_ made no noise; only you could see their faces white out of +the shadows. + +"And his, the young _sahib's_, was whiter than any, glittering, +it seemed, with a white fire. The _mem_ was in the boat, and +Broon-_sahib_ on the bottom step, the baby in his arms. But he, the +boy, was above him facing the crowd--making time. + +"Then, just as the mem stretched her hands for the child, a +bullet--they were firing from the top steps--hit Broon-_sahib_, and he +fell half in, half out of the water, pushing the boat out in his fall. +So it began to slide down stream. + +"Some in it would have stopped it, but the _mem_ gave a look at those +other _mems_, those other babies, and laid her hand on one that would +have gone back. + +"'No!' + +"That was the cry she gave--a great cry; but a greater one rang out +through the shadows and the lights, from the boy who had caught up the +child as it fell upon the steps. + +"I know not what it was, but it was great, and it echoed out as the +boat slipped fast to safety. And he held the child to his breast and +waved his sword, so that the _mem's_ white face rose from her hands, +where she had hidden it, and she looked back. That was the last thing +I saw out of the shadows as the boat slipped to safety; but it held +me, so that when I looked round, the boy was no longer on the steps. + +"He had leaped to the plinth of the temple, and his arms were empty of +his burden. Only he stood in front of the doorway with his glittering +white face--his glittering white face, his glittering white sword! + +"' Come on, you devils!' he shouted in our tongue. 'Come on! Mai Kali +shall have blood to-night if she wants it.'" + +"And she had, brothers! + +"It ran from the plinth and trickled to the river; for none could +touch him from behind, and his sword was in front. + +"There was a method in its hackings and hewings. At least so it seemed +to me, watching helpless for good or evil, from my place in the +shadow. For ever, as its keenest stroke fell, so another body fell +blocking the plinth, until he had to stand almost in the arch itself. + +"Then a burly Mahomedan trooper challenged him, and I knew not which +way the fight was going, till, with a shout that was almost a laugh, +the white face and the white sword showed, lunging back at the big +body as they broke past. And it fell sidelong, blocking the doorway +quite. + +"But none thought of that, of it. None thought of anything save the +glittering face and the glittering sword that had burst through the +circling crowd, and now, facing it again, was backing up the steps, +fighting grimly as it backed. + +"Up and up, step by step, and we--even I, brothers, watching +helpless--drawn after it perforce, to see--to know ... + +"So the steps were left silent in the starlight. I did not see the +end, brothers. It was beyond my sight. They told me afterwards it was +in the bazaar, with half the town to see; but I had crept away, a +great shivering on me, for I had remembered the flowers and the young +_sahib's_ words about the gods. + +"And I remembered the child. What had become of the child? + +"Then suddenly I understood. Then I knew what the method of the sword +had been--how it had hidden, had lured! + +"It was nigh dawn when I remembered; dawn as it is now. Look! The iron +of night's scabbard grows into the steel of day's sword upon the +water; and hark! that is the cry of the mallards. The world is waking. +So it was when I crept down to Kali's shrine. + +"The blood was still dripping into the water, and when I drew the dead +mass of flesh from blocking the doorway, the red of it lay in a pool +up to Her feet. But the child had crawled on Her knees, brothers, and +had cried itself to sleep there. + +"Yet when it wakened at my touch it did not cry, for, see you, it knew +me; and so, when it saw the milk, set in a bowl before Her as +offering, it stretched its hands for it. + +"Thus it was made clear. So I gave it Mai Kali's milk, knowing it was +true what he had said, 'that they had squared the gods.'" + +The voice paused, and another asked, "And then?" before it went on +dreamily. + +"Yea! it was true indeed, for ere the day ended they were back with +guns and soldiers. So, since silence is better than speech when nought +is sure, I crept in the night to a Colonel's house and left the child +in the garden for them to find. + +"Forty years ago, brothers! Forty years is it since the boats slipped +down to safety with the _Huzoors_, and now ..." + +There was a sudden stir in the waiting crowd. + +A boat had slipped up the river shadows from the bridge and was making +for the steps. + +"That's your station, Brown," said an English voice; "the water is a +bit deep about the shrine, remember, and the old women are devilish +hard to keep back. All right!" it continued, as a man stepped out. "Go +on to the next. We are a bit early on the field; but it is as well to +be beforehand, and square things." + +As the boat paddled on, another English voice in the stern said in a +low tone, "Why did you put Brown there? Just where his father was +killed, don't you remember?" + +"Just why I did! He won't stand any nonsense, and it is a troublesome +job. Besides, he wasn't killed, and there's luck in it. That was a +queer story. Some one saved him, of course, but why? and how? Now, +Smith! there you are. And, as I said to Brown, for Heaven's sake look +after the old dodderers, male and female. When they've nothing left to +live for ..." + +The rest was lost as the boat went on to a yet farther station. + +So, as the sun rose, it rose on that great angled sweep, not of steps, +but of humanity; full, pressed down, running over into the spired town +behind--on a million and more of dark faces, and a dozen white ones +dotted here and there at the most dangerous points. + +And Broon-_sahib_, bearded, a bit burly with his forty and odd years, +sat on the plinth, and thought, no doubt, of that past at first, then +took out his pipe, and with it some scraps of smoked glass, since the +coming eclipse must not be lost, even though one _was_ on duty. + +The sun climbed up, brilliantly unconscious, or at least regardless, +of its coming fate. And after a time boats began to slide up and down, +and a big barge came punting up stream sedately. It was full of +English women and children; and under its wide awning a table was laid +with flowers and sparkling silver against the champagne breakfast +which was to follow on a successful performance of duty. + +For not even here could there be allowed hint or sign of that +expectancy of possible evil. A little girl holding her mother's hand +nodded her yellow curls delightedly, as the barge went past, to Dada +sitting swinging his legs just where the blood had dripped into the +stream forty years ago; but something in the woman's face made a call +echo over the water. + +"It's all right. Show going A 1!" + +As a show there could be no doubt of that. There was a breathlessness +in it, a mighty surge of emotion from one end of that bank of humanity +to the other, a curious wail in the ceaseless roar of voices, that +struck through eyes and ears to the heart. + +And now, what was that? + +Broad daylight still; not a shadow had shifted, and yet a sense as if +a candle had gone out somewhere. + +Broon-_sahib_ put his pipe in his pocket, looked through a glass +darkly, stood up, raised his helmet, wiped his forehead, and put it on +again. + +The time had come--there was a nibble of shadow on the ball of +light!--the monster had begun his meal! + +As he looked round, unarmed, defenceless, on the hundreds of thousands +of dark heads which held this thought, he smiled and nodded with the +words. + +"Have patience, brethren; there is time!" Doubtless, but not much time +to think of other things beyond the mere keeping of that forward crush +of bathers, that backward crush of those that had bathed, from +inextricable confusion. + +So much the better, perhaps. Less time, at any rate, for expectation +of the new King who was to fall from the sun and sweep away existing +kingdoms. Less time to notice the white horse led out ostentatiously +by the Brahmins at the biggest temple, sign that such talk was true, +that one aeon had passed away, and another--in which Vishnu should +appear in his final incarnation--had begun. + +"Have patience! Have patience!" + +That was the burden of the cry from the few white faces dotted among +the dark ones, and it was caught up and echoed by the connecting links +of yellow-legged policemen stationed every ten yards along the lowest +step. + +"Have patience! Have patience!" + +A hard saying indeed. + +Broon-_sahib_ slipped down from the plinth and collared an old +pantaloon just as he fell, hefted him up like a baby, and set him +squatting in safety above. Then an old woman, gasping, gurgling from +the first mouthful of the water into which, regardless of depth, she +had literally been propelled. + +"Have patience, brethren! Have patience!" + +A harder saying, now that all things had grown grey; though +still--weird, uncanny, beyond belief--not a shadow had shifted. + +Hopelessly grey, and hopelessly cold--so cold. So curiously quiet, +too; for the great roar of voices seemed to have severed itself from +things earthly, and was like a mighty wind from heaven. + +"Have patience, brethren! Have patience! There is time!" + +A harder saying still, when in the greyness, the coldness, a flock of +scared pigeons overhead sent a weird flight of faint grey shadows down +that long length of angled curve, packed by expectant humanity. + +Was He coming indeed?--that new ruler? Were these the heralds? + +There was quite a little row, now, of rescued old dodderers on Mai +Kali's plinth, whence the blood had dropped forty years ago. + +What was that? Had some one withdrawn a veil? Had some one said, "Let +there be light"? + +The greyness, the coldness, lost their character in an instant. There +was promise in them now--promise of light to come! The sun was +reasserting its sway, and--not half of humanity had bathed! + +"Have patience, brethren! Have patience!" shouted Broon-_sahib_, and +there was a certain fierce determination in his tone. + +Hardest saying of all, when the precious moments were going--going so +fast! + +"_Huzoor!_" came a piteous, confused voice behind him from the +plinth, "it is my last chance. I am old--I forget. I have forgotten so +much--only this remains. For pity's sake--for the sake of forty years +ago--let old Bishen, the flower-seller, find salvation!" + +Even in his hurry, in his breathless recognition that here +was the crucial instant--that a single mistake might bring +disaster--Broon-_sahib_ flung a quick look behind him. + +He saw a pathetic old face, humble even in its grief. + +"It's all right, _Baba_; there's plenty of time!" he said swiftly. +"Here! look through this bit of glass--you'll see for yourself." + +It only took a moment, those quick words; he was back, ready with hand +and voice of command, almost without a break; but they did more for +peace and order than a regiment of soldiers. For old Bishen, after one +look through the smoked glass, rose to his feet and salaamed again and +again, set, as he was, on high, in sight of all. + +"Yea! it is true," he cried, in his thin old voice. "There _is_ time. +Let us wait, brethren; for they know--the gods have told them." + +Half-an-hour afterwards, with its table laid with flowers and silver, +the sliding barge held Englishmen as well as Englishwomen; and one of +them was drinking deep draughts of iced beer, while a little girl with +yellow hair watched him admiringly, and a woman, still rather pale of +face, stood looking at him with evident relief. + +"I told you it would be all right, my dear," he said, smiling. "There +never was any rush to speak of but once; and then I gave a bit of +smoked glass to an old chap, and he saw through a glass darkly what +was up, and told the others. So we squared 'em--gods and Brahmins and +all-as I told you we should, in spite of all the talk and the +telegrams." + + + + + THE KEEPER OF THE PASS + + +The low hills, as they lay baking in the sunshine of noon, showed in +scallops of glare against the light-bleached sky. A fine dust, reddish +but for that same bleaching of light, hid every green thing far and +near, making them match the straggling camel-thorns, the stunted +wormwood, the tufts of chamomile, and many another nameless aromatic +herb which in these low hills come into the world ready dressed in +dust, as it were, against the long rainless months. + +Yet it was not hot here in the uplands, and so the district officer's +tent was opened at one side and propped up by bamboos more for the +convenience of its occupant holding an open-air audience than from any +quest after coolness. The upward tilt gave the tent a quaintly +lopsided look, as if it were some gigantic bird flapping one wing in +its attempt to rise and fly away from the little hollow in which it +stood. + +It was a motley crowd, indeed, which awaited the fiat of the Dispenser +of Justice in these fastnesses of the central hills of India; those +climbing, rolling upward sweeps of sandstone where the ripple mark of +the tides that built them remains to tell of the vanished sea which +had once covered this dry and thirsty land, where no water is for nine +long months of the year. + +It was a curious crowd also. It could not fail of being that, since it +struck the two extremes of that vast Indian scale of so-called +culture, so-called civilisation. For a land case involving several +miles of country was in dispute, and the semi-Europeanised, wholly +clothed lawyers engaged on it stood cheek by jowl with the +semi-clothed wholly aboriginal witnesses in it; representatives for +the most part of the wild tribes belonging to these waste lands and +forests. Rude iron-smelters, almost touching the bronze age in +absolute savagery; or wandering fowlers, barbaric even to the extent +of eating their poor, old, undesirable relations! + +In one group, however, consisting of an old man and a young one, a +quick observer might have noticed a palpable discrepancy between the +dress (or the lack of it) and the address of the wearers. A +discrepancy which made the magistrate of the district look up with a +smile. + +"Hullo! Nagdeo!" he said. "On the warpath after a tiger?" The old man +salaamed down to the ground. His skin was very dark, so that his white +moustache and thin white whiskers, brushed out to stand, each hair +singly, in a forward curve, like the whiskers of a cat, seemed to +glisten against it. For the rest, he was small, slight, but extremely +muscular, and he carried himself with no little dignity and +importance. + +"Not so, _Huzoor_," he replied, and his speech rose higher in that +scale of culture and civilisation than his dress, which was no more +than a waistcloth, a string of tiger claws, and a tasselled spear--"I +come to put another foot on it. This is my grandson, _Huzoor_." + +The dignity, the importance grew fifty-fold as he turned to the lad by +his side. A good head taller, fairer of skin, infinitely better +looking, there was yet something about the figure which made the eye +turn back to the smaller, older one, as it stood before authority with +a certain authority of its own. + +He was, as all knew, explained Nagdeo, the keeper of one of the +wildest passes in that wild country, as his father and his father's +father had been. Who could deny it? Was not their very caste name, to +distinguish them from others, _Ghatwal_, or pass-keeping ones? + +He had had to keep his a long time, because the Old God had decreed +that his son should be defeated by a tigress and her cubs; which might +happen to the best of pass-keeping ones, since those things feminine +were untrustworthy. Consequently he (Nagdeo) had had to go on beyond +the years of greatest activity until his grandson reached them. + +But here the boy was now. Of age, twenty; than most, taller; as any, +learned in jungle law; with the spear, nimble; to keep the pass, +ready; to be enrolled, present, the Old God before-- + +With his subject the old man's words had returned to the idiom of a +wilder tongue, and he drew out of his waistcloth a little iron image +of a tiger, not three inches long, to which he salaamed reverently. + +For this was the Old God. + +"What is your grandson's name?" asked the district officer. + +It was Baghela (tiger cub), said Nagdeo. + +It had seemed a suitable name for one born six months after his father +had been found lying dead on the top of a dead tigress, his dead lips +close to the teats that would suckle her dead whelps no more. + +That had been a misfortune, deplorable yet without shame, and due, +possibly, to the dead youth's over-soon marriage to a thing feminine; +such things being notoriously untrustworthy! Therefore he had +refrained from entangling _this_ one with such things feminine, the +more so because there were already sufficient of them in the house, +what with Baghela's mother and grandmother. Briefly, the worship of +two female things was sufficient for any lad without adding to the +adulation by a third! + +So, in the evening, when the magistrate's legal work was over, the old +man and the young one came up to the tilted tent again, and, after a +curious little oath of fealty to the Old God--in the shape of the +three-inch tiger--and a vow of war till death against live things that +mimicked his shape had been taken from his grandfather's dictation by +Baghela, the latter's name was duly enrolled as hereditary guardian of +the Jadusa Pass, and the two struck a bee-line towards home over the +low jungle as if it belonged to them. + +As indeed it did; since few travellers, save the keepers of the +passes, ventured to brave the tigers dreaming in their lairs, or +pacing the trackless wastes hungrily, after dark. + +But old Nagdeo was jubilant over the mere chance of coming across one; +not that it was likely, since what tiger ever was whelped which would +dare to face him and his grandson? "Men"--here he gave a sidelong +glance of pure adoration at Baghela's height--"who had no backs; who, +if they failed, as even pass-keepers must sometimes, were found face +up to the sky, face up to the claws, face up to the teeth!" + +Of course, sometimes, the accursed brutes who assumed the shape of the +Blessed Budhal Pen--the Old God of Gods--would, out of sheer spite, +roll a dead man over and claw at his back; but that also was without +shame, since dead men had no choice. + +So the old man babbled on garrulously, and the young one listened, +till they reached the little village at the foot of the pass. The moon +had risen by this time, and showed the upright slabs of sandstone +clustering under the wide-spreading tamarind trees on its outskirts. +Slabs marking the graves of dead and gone inhabitants. + +"I am ready now for the young girls to break their pitchers and cover +my emptiness with the shards," said the old man, pausing for a second +beside a cluster of these stones. Then he raised his hand and spoke to +the unseen: "Fear not, Slumberers! He who comes to join you hath no +scratch upon his back." + +That was his _Nunc Dimittis_. After which he made his way to a low +shingled stone hut, covered with gourds, which stood on some rising +ground outside the hamlet towards the pass; drank to excess--from pure +joy--of a nauseous spirit made by the untrustworthy feminine out of +wild berries, and then slept as sound as if he were indeed with the +Slumberers. + +For this question of the due keeping of the pass had been on the old +man's nerves for months. The rains would be due ere long, bringing, no +doubt, those twinges of lumbago to a grandfather's back which had of +late made it difficult, indeed, to keep the pass open for travellers; +since to do that a man must give the beasts no rest. He must harry +their lairs when they were absent, scare them from the road with +strange noises and ringing of bells, and, if they were obdurate, face +claws and teeth. + +But now there was some one to do all this. Some one of the true race, +yet by the fiat of the Old God bigger than most. Ay! and with more +personal enmity than most towards the evil ones who stole the Old +God's likeness. For must not those six unborn mouths of wrong, of +loss, of grief and anger, count for something? + +Yes! Baghela would be a Keeper of the Pass, indeed! That was the old +man's thought as he fell asleep, his dream as he lay sound as the +Slumberers themselves. And Baghela slept, too, the badge of his new +office, a necklace of tiger claws, round his neck, a tasselled spear, +hung with jingling bells, beside him. But the untrustworthy feminine, +the mother, the grandmother, still sate by the embers of the fire +whispering fearfully; for _they_ knew that those six unborn mouths, +translated in _their_ way, might mean something very different. + +Baghela himself, however, had no suspicion of the possibility. He set +about his new duties with an immense amount of swagger. The least hint +of a marauding intruder about the winding path which led to the +fertile valleys towards the south, would send him through the village +with boastful jinglings of his bells. And, as luck would have it, that +jingling seemed all powerful for a time towards the keeping of the +pass. + +Nagdeo, who, now that the necessity for presenting a youthful +appearance was over, permitted himself a seat amongst the village +elders, a certain stiffness of carriage generally, used to boast of +this peace dogmatically. Such a thing as no _news_, even, of +intruders, so far on in the season, was unheard of. He himself, in his +palmiest days, had never been so fear-compelling. It was those six +unborn mouths of hereditary hatred which did it, no doubt. + +And Baghela thought so too, as long as the rain was slight, as long as +the flocks and herds kept to the uplands, and only the shepherds and +herdsmen had tales to tell of loss. Then, one day, the clouds broke in +slanting shafts of almost solid rain, and the water ran over the +rippled sandhills as if it had been a tide once more. Then the sun +shone for another day, and at dusk everything but a yard or two of +shadow round Baghela as he patrolled the path was a blank nothingness, +blotting out even the darkness with wet, impenetrable vapour, dulling +even the sound of the bells, deadening all scent. + +So, neither he nor the tiger had an instant's warning. + +They were face to face in a moment. + +Then Baghela knew what those unborn mouths had wrought in him. Terror, +absolute, uncontrollable, seized on all his young strength; he knew +nothing save the desire to escape. The next instant he felt a hot +vapour on his back, heard the husky angry cough that sent it there, +and all that young strength of his spent itself in a cry like that of +the untrustworthy thing feminine, when they had told it of a young +husband's death. + +Into the mist he fled, feeling the cold vapour in his face, the hot +behind; until, suddenly desperate, every atom of him leaped forward +from what lay behind, and he fell. + +None too soon; for even as he shot downward a shadow shot over him in +the mist, and something ripped his bare back lightly, as, with greater +impetus than his, that shadow plunged into the void. + +A second afterwards a long-drawn howl of rage and spite rose upward +through the mist to meet Baghela's whimpers as he lay, caught above +the sheer precipice, by a bush. + +After a while he rose and crept carefully up to the verge; then sate +and shivered at himself; at this inheritance of fear. And more than +once his hand sought that faint scratch upon his back. It was not +much; not more than a kitten might have made in play, but he felt it +like a brand. + +By degrees, however, he began to think. The tiger must be lying dead, +or at least helpless, below the rocks. He must get down to it, leave +the marks of his spear in it; the mark of its claws ... + +A surge of shame swept through him. No! he must go back unscathed; no +one must have the chance, in dressing wounds, of seeing that faint +mark behind. + +So the next morning, old Nagdeo could scarcely contain himself for +pride, as he sate among the village elders. The boy had killed his +first tiger without a scratch. Had brought home its skin, the biggest +seen for years. True, the lad himself had found the fight too hard, +and was even now shivering and shaking with ague; but that only proved +how hard the fight had been. And the untrustworthy feminine were +dosing him, so he would be afoot again in a day or two. Then the +village would see that, ere a month was over, a naked child might go +through the pass alone in safety. But it was not so! + +Baghela, it is true, was well enough by day, but as the dusk came on, +his strong young limbs always fell a shivering and a shaking. "There +is more room for quaking, see you, in him than in me," old Nagdeo +would explain elaborately to his cronies, as he held out an arm, which +with the inaction, the sudden cessation of imperious efforts, began to +show its age clearly; "but one must pay for size and strength, and +courage; and there is no harm done as yet. The mimicking devils had +their lesson when he killed their champion without a scratch." + +But the harm came in time. A party of salt-carriers, taking advantage +of a break in the rains, arrived at the village carrying an extra +load; the body of a man killed by a tiger, half eaten by jackals. + +"Ague or no ague, sonling," said old Nagdeo almost coaxingly to the +lad half-an-hour after the appearance of this grim visitor, "thy bells +must be heard in the pass to-night. They will be all-sufficient, +considering the lesson thou hast taught the beasts. And thou art +strong enough for the ringing of bells. Thou canst return afterwards +to shiver and shake, sonling, since thou art not of those to do that +in the pass. No! no!" + +The old man's chuckle at his little joke was tenderly triumphant; but, +when he had gone, and the untrustworthy feminine alone remained, +Baghela turned with a sob to his mother, who crouched beside him, and +hid his face in her clothes, as if he had been a hurt child. + +"Mother!" he cried, "I got it from thee!" + +"Yes! heart of my heart," she answered passionately, "and from thy +murdered father too. Have I not told thee so, often? As for this old +man! See you! Since _this_ has come upon us, and the shivering is no +longer refuge--go! There is no need to ring the bells--no need to go +farther than the little caves. And the old man fails fast. He will +not live long. Then, when he is dead, the old tale will be told, +and we can tell a new one, like other folk. Why, even now, see you, +there is no need for travellers to cross the pass. Let them take the +'rail' which the _Huzoors_ have made! All this old-world talk is +foolishness--yesterday's bread has been eaten, its water drunk; 'tis +time for a new dinner!" + +It was more than a month after this that some one, sitting on the +village dais underneath the tamarind trees in sight of the Slumberers, +in trying to use a betel-cutter, said carelessly, "_It hath grown +rusty, like Baghela's bells!_" + +Nagdeo turned on the speaker like lightning. That month had left him +curiously aged, with a wistful, anxious expectancy on his old face. +Though when, more than once, folk had commented on his changed looks, +and asked what ailed him, he had only replied, almost apologetically, +"Death lingers; 'tis time I was with the Slumberers, since Baghela +keeps the pass as his fathers did." + +But now his old voice rose haughtily, "Like thy wits rather! Canst not +see that the youth hath been overbrave? The mimicking devils will not +face the bells. And who can kill a foe that keeps his distance? And if +the bells ring not, is it not in hopes to lure the cowards close--to +take them unawares?" + +The arguments came swiftly, as if they had been rehearsed before; +rehearsed without audience; and yet when old Nagdeo moved off as if in +displeasure, his hands crept out towards the stones which marked the +Slumberers, his eyes sought them almost pitifully. + +And that night, after Baghela had gone on his rounds, after the +untrustworthy feminine had slothfully sought its bed, the old Keeper +of the Pass crept out in the rear of the young one, spear in hand; yet +without the jingles, since what need was there for two sets? + +Two! But where was the one? + +The old man's face grew more feline in its watchful anxiety, as he +prowled among the bushes in the half moonlit darkness, listening for +the challenge. And none came, though more than once in the denser +shadow of thick jungle, he saw two spots of green light telling that +some one was _waiting_ to be challenged. But where was the challenger? + +The night was far spent ere he was found, fast asleep on a bed of dry +leaves in the little cave. + +The sight seemed to take the finder back, not to his more immediate +ancestors, the purely savage hunters of those low hills, but to +something older still, to the barbarians who had swept down on them to +found principalities and powers; for all the calm dignity of the +Indo-Scythic sculptures was in Nagdeo's pose as he pricked the sleeper +with his spear. + +"Rise up, Keeper of the Pass; they wait for thee without." + +Baghela was on his feet in a second. He knew the time had come, and +something of the old racial courage in him held that new fear in +check. + +Until, not a hundred yards without the cave, in the faint grey light +of the now coming dawn, a paler shadow showed in the darker shadows, +long, low, sinuous; and something moved across their path with no +sound of footfall; only a crackle of dry twigs, a sudden, soft, short +wheeze, and then silence. + +"Ring the bells, Keeper of the Pass," came the old man's voice. "There +is no fear. Has not the tale of thy prowess spread among the tiger +people?" + +His prowess! The sting of that slight scratch was as fire on the lad's +back; he paused. But a spear from behind reached to his, struck it +sideways, and the next instant the challenge echoed through the pass. + +And was accepted. + +The shadow grew short, showed paler; till two green lights flashed +out, and with a roar that rolled among the rocks, the tiger faced +them, crouched and sprang. + +Old Nagdeo, his vanished youth returning for a space, sprang too, +watching that other spring; so, spear in hand, found himself close to +the striped skin of the base usurper of the Old God's shape, into +which, with all the force he possessed, he drove his weapon's point. +But Baghela, with no thought but flight, felt the full force of those +mighty claws on his back, and fell. Perhaps his neck was broken; +anyhow, he lay still, heedless of the piteous cry that followed:-- + +"Face him, Keeper of the Pass! Face the teeth, face the claws, ere +thou seekest the Slumberers!" + +Yet the entreaty was not utterly disregarded; since--Baghela +dead--that Keepership passed again to one whose face faced the old +enemy bravely. + +That face, however, had no triumph of victory in it, when Nagdeo +stooped over his grandson's body, and turned its scored back to be +hidden by Mother Earth. There was no mark anywhere else--not a +scratch. That, at any rate, must not be. That must be remedied before +the villagers saw it; before even the sun saw it. For was not Budhal +Pen, the Old God, the Sun-god also? + +So he drew the lad's body deliberately within reach of the mighty +claws, and used them, slack as they were in newly-come death, for his +purpose. + +Then he sat down beside the two dead bodies, and looked at his own for +scratch or hurt. There was not one; not even a bruise, not a spot of +blood. So none need know. The girls might weep as they broke their +pitchers over Baghela bewailing his dead courage. + +The courage which had died before he did, though none should know of +it. Yet it had died. And who was to blame? + +Nagdeo sat gazing stupidly at his grandson's long length, at his +fairer beauty; then suddenly he stood up. + +That was it, of course! + +And if that were so, then it were best to settle it before dawn, when +folk might come prying. He bent curiously over the dead lad, then laid +his hand on the dead heart. + +"Go! Keeper of the Pass, to the Slumberers without fear. I, Nagdeo, +will punish the intruder." + +Half-an-hour after, he stood silently in his hut beside his still +sleeping wife. The old woman, blind, deaf, near her end as it was, +scarcely stirred as he drove his spear through her heart. + +"I doubt thee not, Naole," he said inwardly, "unless a devil wronged +thee; but thy son's son must be avenged. He must take no stranger's +blood to the Slumberers." + +But Herdasi, the lad's mother, was awake, and screamed. + +"Hold thy peace, fool!" said the old man, fiercely, "if thou wouldst +not proclaim thyself harlot. Thy son is dead--face downwards. It came +not from me, nor from my son; so that of us which goes to join the +Slumberers must be avenged on the vile spirit that took form within +thee. Come out from under the bed, woman! if thou wouldst prove he got +it not with thy knowledge. Oh! untrustworthy feminine!" + +And after a pause the untrustworthy feminine did come out with a +curious dignity. + +"He got it not from me but from my love. Yet what matter if he be +dead!" said Herdasi, and so died with her face to the foe to save her +son's name. Since, if it was a devil's doing, none could blame the +lad. + +They found the old man sitting beside the two dead women when they +came to tell him that the Keeper of the Pass had given his life for +its safety. + +"Yea, I know," replied Nagdeo, quietly. "I went and found him before +dawn when he returned not. So I came home and slew these useless ones. +Since he was dead, and I am nigh death, and there was none to keep the +untrustworthy feminine from wandering." + +He adhered to this story steadfastly in the district magistrate's +court, and when he was condemned to death made but one request--that +he might be allowed to face it with the insignia of his office about +him. So on the eve of his execution they gave the old man back his +necklace of tiger claws, and told him he would be allowed to jingle +his bells on his way to the scaffold. But when they came to rouse him +in the morning he was lying dead, face upward; his arms, his chest, +his throat all rent and ripped by those same tiger claws. + +But there was not even a scratch upon the back of the last Keeper of +the Pass. + + + + + THE PERFUME OF THE ROSE + + +"I think we ought to be going back to the others," said the girl. + +She was a pretty, fair English girl, fresh as a rose in her dainty +pink muslin dress, flounced as they wore them in the mutiny year--in +three full flounces to the waist, like the corolla of a flower. And +the lace sunshade she held tilted over her shoulder as a protection +against the slanting rays of the afternoon sun added to her +rose-likeness by its calyx of pale green lining. + +"Ought we?" said the young Englishman who walked beside her, his hand +clasping hers. They were a good-looking pair, pleasant to behold. +"What a bore; it is so jolly here." + +The epithet was not happy, save as an expression of the speaker's +frame of mind. For the garden into which these engaged lovers had +wandered away from the gay party of English men and women who had +taken possession of the marble summer-house in its centre for a +picnic, or, as the natives call it, "a fool's dinner," was something +more than jolly. + +It was beautiful, this garden of a dead dynasty of kings past and gone +like last year's roses. + +But there were roses and to spare still within its high four-square +walls that were hidden from each other by the burnished orange-groves, +by the tall forest trees fringing its cross of wide marble aqueducts +bordered by wide paths. + +Such blossoming trees! The _kachnar_ flinging its bare branches, set +thick with its geranium flowers, against the creamy feathers waving +among the dense dark foliage of the _mangoes_, the _bakayun_ drooping +its long lilac tassels beside the great gold ones of the _umultas_, +and here and there its whole vitality lavished on a monstrous leaf or +two, a huge flower or two, white, curved, solid, as if cut in cold +marble, yet with a warm fragrance at its heart, a hill magnolia +challenged the scent of the roses below. + +Ineffectually, at least here in this square of the garden; for that +cross of wide, empty aqueducts divided it into squares. + +And this one was a square of roses--roses everywhere, even in the +lower level of what in the old kingly days had been a marble-edged +water-way, which now, half filled with soil, held more roses. + +But they were all of one kind--the pink Persian rose, whose outer +petals pale in the sunlight, whose rose of roses heart is full of an +almost piercing perfume. + +What wonder, when it is the otto of roses rose! It grew here for that +set purpose in orderly lines, its grey green, velvety leaves almost +hidden by its profusion of flowers. + +And the scent of them filled the whole square of garden, where the +air, still warm from the past noon, lay prisoned in that fringe of +blossoming trees. + +It seemed to fill the brain, also, with the quintessence of gladness, +beauty, life, and love. + +So His arm sought Her waist and their eyes met. + +But only for a second; the next, Her blush matching Her flounces, She +had drawn back, and He with an angry frown was glaring in the +direction of the voice which had interrupted them. + +It was a high, clear voice full of little trills and bubblings like a +bird's, and it sang on incessantly, as if to give those two time to +recover from their confusion. And as it sang, the Persian vowels +seemed as piercingly sweet as the perfume into which they echoed. + + + "The rose-root takes earth's kisses for its meat, + The rose-leaf makes its blush from the sun's heat, + The rose-scent wakes-who knows from what thing + sweet? + Who knows + The secret of the perfume of the rose?" + + +As the song ended, a head showed above the tufted bushes. It was +rather a fine head; bare of covering, its long grizzled hair parted in +the middle lying in a smooth outward curve on the high narrow +forehead, then sweeping in an equal inside curve between the ear and +throat. So much, no more, was to be seen above the roses, save, for a +moment, a long-fingered, delicate brown hand hiding the face in its +_salaam_. + +"Who the _shaitan_ are you?" asked the young man fiercely in +Hindustani. + +The head and hand met in a second _salaam_, then the face showed; +rather a fine face, preternaturally grave, but with a cunning +comprehension in its gravity. + +"I am Hushmut the essence-maker, _Huzoor_," was the reply. "I belong +to the garden, and, being hidden from the noble people in my +occupation of plucking roses for my still, I sang to let them know." + +The young Englishman gave a half-embarrassed laugh. + +"What does he say?" asked the girl. She had only been two months in +India, and these had been spent in falling in love. + +"He thought we might like to know he was there, that's all--a joke, +isn't it?" answered her lover. She smiled, and so holding each other's +hands boldly they stood facing that head above the roses. + +It nodded cheerfully. + +"The _Huzoors_ are doubtless about-to-marry persons," came the voice. +"It is not always so, even with the _Huzoors_. But this being +different, if they require essences for the bridal let them come to +Hushmut. Rose, jasmine, orange, sandal, lemon grass. I make them all +in their season. Yea, even 'wylet'[4] which the _memi_ love. It is not +really _banafsha_, _Huzoor_; they grow not in the plains. I make it +from the _babul_ blossom, and none could tell the difference. Mayhap +there _is_ none, since He who makes the perfume of the flowers in His +still, may send the same to many blossoms, as I send my essences to +many lovers; even the noble people!" + + +--------------------- + +[Footnote 4: Violet.] + +--------------------- + + +There was distinct raillery in the last words, and the young +Englishman's smile vanished. + +"We people hold not with essences," he said curtly; adding to the +girl, "Come, dear, I think we really ought to go back, your father +will be wanting to go home--he has a lot of work, I know--" + +A shuffle in the bushes made the lovers pause, a curious shuffle such +as a wounded bird makes in its efforts to escape. + +"If the most noble will tarry, this slave will at least make the +luck-offering to the bride," came the voice again, and to point its +meaning the delicate brown hand held up a circular shallow basket +heaped with rose-petals. Heaped so lightly, that the hand held it +level, and it seemed to glide on the top of the bushes, heralding the +grizzled head which slid after it with a faintly undulating movement. + +The cause of this became clear when the limit of the roses was +reached. + +Hushmut the essence-maker must have been a cripple from birth. The +loose blue cloth, such as gardeners wear knotted round their loins +like a petticoat, hid, however, all deformity, even when he clambered +up the marble edge of the old water-way, and shuffled with sidelong +jerks along the path to the pink muslin flounces. + +The wearer's eyes grew soft suddenly. The mystery of such births came +home to the woman who was so soon to be a wife, perhaps a mother. + +She gave him a mother's look anyhow; the look of almost passionate +pity a woman gives to a child's deformity. + +Perhaps he saw it. Anyhow he paused; then, with his bold black eyes +twinkling, held out the basket. + +"A handful, _Huzoor_, for luck!" he cried. + + + "A rose ungathered is but a rose, + Pluck it, lover, don't mind a thorn; + Tuck it away in your bosom-clothes, + And drink its beauty from night to morn." + + +The voice trilled and bubbled quite decorously, but the young +Englishman intercepted a deliberate wink, and felt inclined to kick +Hushmut to lower levels; till he remembered that the girl could not +understand. + +"Take a handful," he said, "and let's get rid of him." The girl +obeyed, but, by mere chance, the little white hand with his ring on it +did tuck its handful of pink rose-leaves away in the loose pink +ruffles on her breast. Whereat Hushmut's approval became so +unmistakable that the young Englishman felt that the only thing was to +escape from it. + +Yet as he hurried the girl back to the summerhouse he turned to listen +to the essence-maker's voice as he went on with his song, and his +rose-picking. + + + "Dig, gardener! deep; till the Earth-lips cling tight. + Prune, gardener! keep those blushes to the light. + Then, gardener, sleep! he brings the scent by night. + Who knows + The secret of the perfume of the rose?" + + +There was nothing to be seen now but the stunted grey green bushes +half hidden in blossom; even the head had disappeared. They were a +queer people, thought the young man, very difficult to understand. +Then the refrain returned to him-- + + + "Who knows + The secret of the perfume of the rose?" + + +"Hushmut?" answered an older man who lounged smoking in one of the +marble-fretted balconies of the dead King's pleasure-house. "Oh, yes! +he is quite a character. A scoundrel, I believe; at least he knows all +the worst lots in the city. They come to the garden at night, you see, +and the bazaar women get all their essences from him. So I expect he +knows at any rate of all the devilry that's going on. I wish I did." +The speaker's face looked a trifle harassed. + +"Is it true, sir, what they say?" asked another voice, "that +Hushmut is really the King's son. That his mother was a Brahmin girl +they kidnapped, who cried herself to death in one of these rooms. +Then, when the child was a cripple, the King--by Jove, he was a +brute!--disowned it." + +"Is that about Hushmut?" asked the girl, who had joined the group in +time to hear the last words. + +The men looked at each other, and the older one said: "Yes, my dear; +they say he was deserted by his parents because he was a cripple. +Rather rough on him. Now I think I'll go and get your mother to come +home. It's getting late. You'll follow, I suppose?" + +"Yes, father, with him," she said, with a rose-blush. + +So, by degrees, in couples, as a rule, but sometimes with a pale-faced +child tucked into the carriage between father and mother, the +pleasure-seekers left the garden of dead Kings to the scent of the +roses. Left it cheerfully, calling back to their friends times and +places where they were to meet again, as English men and women did on +those fatal evenings in May, '57. + +Only the girl in the pink frock and her lover lingered; while the +dogcart in which he was to drive her home waited under the blossoming +trees. + +And as they stood talking, as lovers will, Hushmut the essence-maker, +thinking the coast was clear, came shuffling down the scented shadow +of the path--for the sun had left the garden--pushing his basket of +rose-leaves before him, dragging his crippledom behind him. + +"Do you think he would show us his still?" said the girl, suddenly. +"I've never seen one. Ask him, will you?" + +Hushmut's big, bold black eyes twinkled. Certainly the Miss-_sahiba_ +might see. There was no secret in his work. He took the scent as he +found it, as wise men took love. Again there was that faint suspicion +of raillery only to be pardoned by the girl's ignorance, and also by a +conviction that Hushmut counted on that ignorance, and meant the +remark only for the young Englishman. And so, oddly, the latter became +conscious of a distinct antagonism between himself and the crippled +essence-maker. It was absurd, ludicrous; but it existed, nevertheless. + +There was not much to see in those vaults under the plinth of the +pleasure-palace in which Hushmut had set up his distillery. They were +very low, very dark, the only light coming through the open door, and +from the row of rose-shaped air-holes pierced at intervals in the +plinth. Viewed from outside, these formed part of its raised and +pierced marble decoration. From within they looked quaint and +flower-like, set as they were in the dim shadowy vault, hidden here +and there by the dumpy columns, showing through the arches distantly, +softly, brightly pink; for Hushmut had pasted pink paper over them, to +keep out the bees and wasps, he explained, which otherwise, led by the +scent of the flowers, came in troublesome numbers. + +The rude still, like a huge cooking-pot, stood in one corner, and all +about it lay trays on trays of fading rose-leaves. + +"_Pah!_ How sickly sweet! Let's get outside," said the young man after +a brief glance round. But the girl stood looking curiously at a +brownish-yellow mass piled beside the still. + +"What is that?" she asked. Hushmut's black eyes turned to her +comprehendingly. He shuffled to the pile and held out a sample for her +to see. She bent to look at it. + +"Rose-leaves!" she said. "Oh! I see--after scent has been taken out of +them. Poor things! What a shame!" + +Hushmut said something rapidly in Hindustani, and the girl turned to +her companion for explanation. + +"He says," translated the latter, with a curiously grudging note in +his voice, "that they have their use. He dries them in the sun and +burns them in the furnace of his still." + +She shook her head and smiled. "That's poor compensation!" Then she +bent closer and sniffed regretfully at what Hushmut held. + +"All gone!" she said, so like a child that her lover laughed at her +tenderly. + +"What else did you expect, you goose! + + +'Only the actions of the just, smell sweet and blossom in the dust!' + + +So come; we really must be off; it's getting late." + +He felt in his pocket, and held out a _baksheesh_ to Hushmut; but the +latter shook his head, and once more said something rapidly in +Hindustani. It had a note of petition in it, but the request was +apparently not to the hearer's taste. That was to be seen from his +face. + +"What does he want?" asked the girl, curiously. + +"Nothing he is going to get," replied her lover, moving off; "the +cheek of the man!" + +But the pink muslin stood its ground. "What is it?" she persisted; "I +want to know. He doesn't look to me as if he meant to be rude, +and--and"--her face softened--"if it is anything we can do, I'd--I'd +like to do it. Tell me, please." + +The young fellow shrugged his shoulders impatiently. + +"Oh! only fooling! He wants you to give him back some of the +rose-leaves he gave you, that he may put them in his new brew, to--to +make it sweeter; says the luck-gift of a bride always does--" + +The girl blushed and smiled all over. + +"Well, why not? It is a pretty idea, anyhow." She drew out the handful +of rose-leaves as she spoke, then paused with a faint wonder, for the +warmth of their shelter had made their perfume almost bewildering. + +"How--how sweet they are!" she murmured. Then, still smiling, but with +the blush faded almost to paleness, she dropped the rose-leaves into +the delicate, long-fingered hand. + +"I hope it will be the sweetest essence you ever made," she said with +a laugh, and Hushmut seemed to understand, for he smiled back and +_salaamed_ as he, in his turn, tucked the charm into his bosom for use +when the still should be ready for closing, and as he did so, he said +in his high, suave voice-- + +"May He who knows the secret of the rose protect the bride." He said +it without the least suspicion of reality; simply as a dignified piece +of courtesy. + +A minute afterwards the wheels of that last dogcart, as it drove out +of the garden, disturbed the birds which had already begun to choose +their resting-places for the night; since they too looked for the +usual rest and peace in that fatal Maytime. + +And for a space the peace, the rest settled on the garden. Only +Hushmut's voice, as he busied himself in packing the pink petals into +his still, told of any life in it beyond the birds, the flowers, the +bees. + +One of these, belated, drifted into the vault through the open door, +and hummed a background to the high, trilling voice. + + + "Pale, pale are the rose-lips, sweet! + Red is the heart of the rose, + But red are the lips mine meet, + And your heart white as the snows." + + +Then a faint, almost noiseless patter of bare running feet paused at +the door, and some one looked in to say breathlessly-- + +"It hath begun, they say. But who knows? I am off to the city to see." + +Hushmut looked up startled from his rose-leaves; startled, nothing +more. + +"Begun!--so soon--wherefore?" + +"God knows!" came the breathless voice. "Mayhap it is a lie. Some +thought it would not come at all. I will return and tell thee the +news." + +The faint, almost noiseless patter of bare feet died away, and there +was peace and rest in the garden for another space. Only Hushmut +shuffled to the door, looked out curiously, then shuffled back to his +work, for that must be finished before dark, else the roses would +spoil, squandering their sweetness. There was another pile of +brownish, yellow residuum ready dried for the furnace, and as he +filled a basket with it, his hands among the scentless stuff, a sudden +remembrance of his own impotence, his own deprivation, came to him. +Perhaps he had seen a hint of the simile in the English girl's face. + +He smiled half cynically and muttered-- + + + "Only the dust of the rose remains for the perfume-seller." + + +He paused almost before the bit of treasured wisdom was ended. There +was a sound of wheels; of a galloping horse's feet. + +Some one was coming back to the garden. The next instant, through the +open door, he saw two figures running; an Englishman, an English girl +in a pink dress. The man's arm was round her as he ran; he looked back +fearfully, then seemed to whisper something in her ear, and she gave +answer back. + +"What was it?" they said to each other. Hushmut knew by instinct. + +He was thinking of the roof of the palace pleasure-house, of the +winding stair that led to it, down which it would at least be possible +to fling a foe, before the end came; and She was thinking of the +marble plinth below, where, when that end came, a woman might find +safety from men's hands in death. + +So they came on through the growing shadows. + +Hushmut shuffled to the door and watched the figures calmly, +indifferently, as they neared him; for the way to the winding stair +lay up the steps which rose just beyond the low door of his distillery +in the plinth. + +Perhaps the dusk hid him from those two; perhaps even in broad +daylight they would not, in their fierce desire to reach not safety +but resistance, have seen him. + +They did not, anyhow; but as they passed the door the girl's muslin +flounce caught hard on its lintel hasp, and as in frantic haste she +stooped to rip it free, the scent of those rose-leaves Hushmut had +given her, still lingering in the ruffles at her breast, seemed to +pass straight back into those same rose-leaves in his own. + +That was all, nothing more. But it brought back his last words to her: +"May He who knows the secret of the rose protect the bride." + +Strange! + +The same instant his long-fingered brown hand was on her white one as +she tugged at her dress. + +"This way, _Huzoor!_" he cried in a loud voice, for the man to hear. +"There is a secret passage here; it leads to safety." + +Safety! That word, better than resistance, not to the man himself, but +as sole guardian to the girl, arrested him in a second, tempted him. + +He looked, hesitated, then dragged his charge on--dragged her from +anything with a dark skin to it. + +But her white one touching this dark one, found something in it to +give confidence; or perhaps that fragrance of the flower from His +still which "He sends to many blossoms," had passed from Hushmut's +breast to hers, as hers had to Hushmut's. He knows, who knows the +secret of the perfume of the rose. + +Anyhow she hung back, and she called pitifully, clamorously-- + +"No! No! Let us trust him--let us take the chance." + +There was no time for remonstrance. + +The next second they were in the cool, scented darkness of the vault, +with those pink air-holes showing like shadowy roses among the low +arches, the squat pillars. + +"At the farther end," came Hushmut's voice, amid his shuffling, till +the latter ceased in the rasping of a chain unhasped. "Here, _Huzoor_, +it leads to the Summer Palace beyond the garden wall. So by the mango +groves to the Residency. May He who knows the secret of the perfume of +the rose protect the bride." + +His voice sounded hollow in their ears as they ran down the vaulted +passage which opened before them, lit at intervals by those cunning +air-holes hidden flowerfully in the scrollwork of one of the +marble-edged aqueducts, and the closing door behind them blew a breath +of the rose scent from the vault after their retreating figures. + + + * * * * * + + +Two years had passed. Nine long months spent in keeping a foe at bay; +three in following that spent and broken foe to the bitter end; and +then a year of English skies and English faces to dull the memory of +that long strain to mind and body. + +And then once more a young Englishman, with a girl in a pink dress, +drove into that garden of dead Kings. But the four-square wall was in +ruins. It had been a rallying-point of that spent and broken foe. + +The garden itself was neglected, the roses unpruned. And those two +were changed also, and an _ayah_ holding a baby remained in the hired +carriage which they left waiting for them under the blossoming trees, +as the dogcart had waited that May evening two years before. + +"I'm afraid he must have thought us awfully ungrateful," said the man, +regretfully. "But it couldn't be helped at first; then afterwards one +had to move on. But I did write, you know, more than once about him, +after we got a grip on the place again; so I hope they have done +something." + +"They will have to now, at any rate," said the wearer of the pink +dress, firmly. + +The sight of the garden, changed, neglected as it was, had brought +back the very picture of that grizzled head with the curved hair, +slipping through the rose-bushes, the delicate dark hand holding the +tray of rose-leaves, as it slid over the bushes with its luck-offering +for the bride. Yes! even if justice had been slow, inevitably slow, it +should come now. This very evening, though she and her husband had +only arrived in the station that morning. + +They went to the rose square first, but Hushmut was not there. Then, +seeing by the lack of blossom that the time of roses was not yet, they +went on to the orange groves. + +No one was there. So, doubtfully, they passed to the jasmine, to the +lemon grass. + +But no one was to be seen. Nothing was to be heard but the lazy yet +insistent cry of some one scaring the birds from the pomegranates. + +"Let us ask him. He may know," suggested the wearer of the pink dress. +So they called him and he came--an old man, wizened, careworn. + +Yes, he said, he knew. Wherefore not, when he had guarded fruit in +that garden since he was a boy? There was not much to guard now, owing +to past evils. Hushmut the essence-maker--Hushmut was dead. No one +made essences any more. How did he die? Very simply. He had seen it +with his own eyes when he was guarding fruit. The _Huzoors_ had +doubtless heard of the evil times, even though, as the coachman had +told him, they had just come from _wilayet_. Well, it began quite +suddenly one evening in May. It was the peaches he was guarding then. +There had been a "fool's dinner" in the garden, and afterwards a young +_sahib_ and a miss in a pink dress had come running in to take refuge +from the troopers. He had seen them, but what could he do? But Hushmut +had shown them the secret passage, no doubt. Anyhow he had come out +alone and closed the door, and sate beside it singing when the +troopers rode up. + +And doubtless they would have believed him, seeing that he was friends +with all the bad walkers in the city through the selling of his +essences; but for a bit of the Miss-_sahiba's_ dress which had caught +in the door hasp. So they knew what he had done, and being enraged, +had killed him there, by the door. It was quite simple. + +Quite. So simple that those two said nothing. Only their hands sought +each other as they turned back to the summer-house. + +"I should like to see the place again," said the wearer of the pink +dress in a hard, even voice. "I wonder if the door is open?" + +It was; for no one made essences now. So they entered. + +The still stood in the corner as before. The pile of that strange fuel +lay between it and the trays of rose-leaves. But there was no +difference between them now. Both were yellow, scentless; and though +the pink paper which Hushmut had pasted over the rose-shaped air-holes +was all broken and torn by birds and winds and weather, the bees did +not drift in. + +For there was no scent to lead them on. None. + +The winds of two long years had swept it away absolutely. What else +was to be expected? + +Yet a vague disappointment showed in the woman's face as it had in the +girl's. + +But this time the man's voice trembled as he answered her look with +the words-- + + + "Only the actions of the just, + Smell sweet and blossom in the dust." + + + + + LITTLE HENRY AND HIS BEARER + + + CHAPTER I + +When I was a child I wept over a story--if I remember right, by Mrs. +Sherwood--which bore this title. + +Years after I came to man's estate, I felt inclined to weep over an +incident in real life which this title seemed to fit. + +Looking back on those first tears, I judge them uncalled for by what +my maturer age condemns as false sentiment. Perhaps my later emotion +is equally at fault. The reader had better judge for himself. + + + * * * * * + + +"Speak on, O Bisram, bearer! Wherefore dost not obey? Speak on about +Mai Kali and the Noose--the Noose that is so soft, that never slips. +Wherefore dost not speak, son of an owl?" + +The voice was childish, fretful. So was the listless little figure in +a flannel dressing-gown, which lay half upon the reed mat spread on +the verandah floor, half against the red and yellow livery coat of +Bisram, bearer. The latter remained silent, his dark eyes fixed +deprecatingly on a taller figure within earshot. It was the child's +mother, standing for a glance at her darling. + +"Speak! Why dost not speak, base-born child of pigs? Lo! I will smite +thee. Speak of Mai Kali and the Noose. Lo! Bisram, bearer, be not +unkind. Remember I am sick. Show me the Noose. _Ai!_ Bisra! show it to +Sonny Baba." + +The liquid Urdu fell from the child's lips with quaint precision, and +ended in the coaxing wail of one who knows his power. + +That was unmistakable. The man's high-bred, sensitive face, which had +not quivered under the parentage assigned to him by the thin, +domineering voice, melted at the appeal, and the red and yellow arms +seemed to close round their charge at the very suggestion of sickness. +Bisram gave another deprecating glance at the tall white figure at the +door, and then, from the folds of his waistcloth, took out a silk +handkerchief crumpled into a ball. But a dexterous flutter left it in +uncreased folds across the child's knees. + +"Lo! Protector of the Poor! such is the Noose of Kali," said Bisram, +deferentially. + +Seen thus, the handkerchief looked larger than one would have +expected: or perhaps it is more correct to say longer, for, the +texture being loose like canvas, even the slight drag across the +child's knees stretched the stuff lengthwise. It was of that curious +Indian colour called _oodah_, which is not purple or crimson, but +which looks as if it had been the latter and might become the +former--the colour, briefly, of recently spilt blood. It looked well, +however, in the soft lustrous folds lying upon the child's white +dressing-gown. He smiled down at it joyfully: yet not content, since +there was more to come. + +"Twist it for Mai Kali. Twist it, Bisram, bearer! _Ai!_ base-born, +twist it or I will smite--" + +"It is time for the Shelter of the World to take his medicine," began +Bisram, interrupting the imperious little voice. "Lo! does his Honour +not see the _mem_ waiting for him?" + +Sonny gave a quick glance at his mother. He knew his power there also. +"I'se not goin' to take it, mum," he called decisively, "till he's +twisted a' Noose. I won't--I want a' stwangle somefin' first. Tell +him, mum--please. Then I'll 'waller it like a good boy." + +"Do what he wants, Bisram, and then bring him here," said Sonny's +mother, her eyes soft. For the child had but lately chosen the path of +Life instead of the Valley of the Shadow, so even wayward footsteps +along it were welcome. + +"Now is it Government orders," boasted Sonny, reverting to the +precisions and peremptoriness of Hindustani with a wave of his small +hand. "So twist and strangle, and if thou dost it not, my father will +cause hanging to come to thee." + +"_Huzoor!_" assented Bisram, cheerfully, as he shifted his burden +slightly so as to free his left hand. The next instant a purple +crimson rope of a thing, circled on itself, settled down upon the neck +of a big painted mud tiger, bright yellow with black stripes and fiery +red eyes, which one of the native visitors had brought that morning +for the magistrate's little son. + +"Now the Protector of the Poor can pull," said Bisram, bearer. "It +will not slip." + +But Sonny's wan little face had perplexity and doubt in it. "But, +Bisra, Mai Kali rides a tiger. She wouldn't stwangle it. Would she, +mum? I wouldn't stwangle my pony. I'd wather stwangle the gwoom; +wouldn't you, mum? I would. I'd wather like to stwangle Gamoo." + +"My dear Sonny!" exclaimed his mother, looking with amused horror at +the still, helpless little figure which Bisram had brought to her. +"You wouldn't murder poor Gamoo, surely!" + +Sonny made faces over his quinine, as if that were a matter of much +more importance. + +"'Ess, I would," he said, with his mouth full of sweet biscuits. "I'd +stwangle him, and then Mai Kali would be pleased for a fousand years; +and then I'd stwangle Ditto an' Peroo too; so she'd be pleased for a +fousand fousand years--wouldn't she, Bisra?" + +"_Huzoor!_" assented Bisram, bearer. + +"My dear," said Sonny's mother, going back with a somewhat disturbed +look to the room where the magistrate, Sonny's father, was busy over +crabbed Sanskrit texts and bright-coloured talc pictures; for in his +leisure hours he was compiling a Hindu Pantheon for the use of +students, "I almost wish Bisram would not tell Sonny so many stories +about the gods and goddesses. They do such horrid things." + +The scholar, who in his heart nourished a hope that his son might in +due time follow in his footsteps, and, perhaps, gain reputation where +his father only found amusement, looked up from his books mildly. + +"Gods and goddesses always do, my dear. Their morality seldom conforms +to that which obtains among their worshippers. I intend to draw +general attention to this anomaly. Besides, Sonny will have to learn +these things anyhow when he begins Greek and Latin; he will in fact +find this previous knowledge of great use. Kali, for instance, is +the terrific form of Durga who, of course, corresponds to the Juno +of the Greeks and Romans and the Isis of Egypt. She is also the +crescent-crowned Diana, and as Parbutt the Earth-mother Ceres. Under +the name of Atma, again, she is 'goddess of souls governing the three +worlds,' and so equivalent to Hecate Triformis--" + +"Yes! my dear," interrupted his wife, meekly. "But for all that I +don't want Sonny to talk of strangling the grooms; it really doesn't +sound nice. However, as Bisram is eager, now Sonny is really +recovering, to get away at once for his usual leave, I won't say +anything to the child. He will forget while Bisram is away, and I will +give orders that the latter is not to mention the subject on his +return." + +Bisram himself, receiving his pay and his orders ere starting on the +yearly visit to his own country, which was the only portion of +his life by day or night not absolutely--without any reservation +whatever--at the disposal of his employers, fully acquiesced in the +_mem-sahiba's_ dictum. The Noose of Kali was scarcely a nice game for +the little master; indeed his slave would never have introduced it +under ordinary circumstances. But the _mem_ must remember that +dreadful day when the Heart's-eye lay so still, caring for nothing, +and the doctor-_sahib_ had said there was nothing to be done save to +coax him into looking into the restless Face of Life instead of into +the restful Face of Death. That was when he, Bisram, who knew, had +spoken of the Noose; and, at least, it had done the little Shelter of +the World no harm. + +"Harm?" echoed Sonny's mother, gently. "You have never done him harm, +Bisra. Why, the doctor-_sahib_ himself said your hand was fortunate +with the child. If you had not been with him, I think--I think, +Bisram--he might have died. And now I am even wondering if I am wise +to let you go--" + +Bisram looked up eagerly. "I must go, _Huzoor_--I must go without fail +to-night--the year is over--" He paused abruptly, then added quietly: +"The _Huzoor_ need have no fear. The little master will do well. The +Mighty One who cares for children will protect this one." + +He spoke with such faith in voice and face, that Sonny's mother going +back once more to the study, and finding her husband busy as usual +over his Pantheon, lingered to look doubtfully at the talc pictures, +and finally remark that after all the people really had a good deal of +religious feeling, and actually seemed to believe in a God. Bisram, +for instance, had said that Sonny was in the guardianship of One who +suffered the little children-- Here her eyes filled with tears, and +her voice sank. + +"He meant Mata Devi, I expect, my dear," replied the scholar without +looking up. "She is another form of Kali or Durga, and corresponds to +Cybele or the Mater Montana--" + +"He was very eager to get away, however," went on Sonny's mother, +almost aggrievedly. "I really think he might have stayed a few days +longer till the boy was quite himself. But devoted as he is, he is +just like the rest of them--selfishly set on what they are accustomed +to--" + +"He put off going nearly a month though, and you know, my dear, that +when he took service as Sonny's bearer, he stipulated for a +fortnight's leave every spring, about a certain time, in order to +perform some religious ceremonial," protested the justice. + +"Well, and he has had it. Every year for five years; so he might have +given it up for once. But he wouldn't. I don't believe he would, not +even to save Sonny's life. However, I think the child is all right, +and even if I had kept Bisram, he wouldn't have been much good, for he +has been frightfully restless and hurried the last few days." + +He did not seem so, however, as he stood quietly in the growing dusk +at the gateless gate of the compound to look back at the house where +he had left the little Shelter of the World asleep. His scarlet and +yellow coat was gone, replaced by the faint coral-coloured garments of +the pilgrim; he carried a network-covered pot for holy water, slung on +his left wrist, and the yellow trident of Siva showed like a frown on +his forehead. The thickets of flowering shrubs, the tangles of white +petunias bordering the path, sent their perfume into the air; but +above it rose the heavy, dead-sweet scent from a wild _dhatura_ plant +which, taking advantage of an unweeded nook by the gate, thrust its +long white flowers across the pilaster; one of them indeed reaching +past it, and so, seen five-pointed against the dusk beyond, looking +like a slim white hand pointing the way thither. + +Bisram stooped deliberately to pick it, tore it into its five +segments, and placed the pieces in his bosom, muttering softly, +"With heart and brain and feet, and hands and eyes, Devi, I am thy +servant." Then for a second he raised himself to his full height, and +stretched both his thin, fine hands--such delicately supple, strong +hands--towards the house. "Sleep sound, Life of my Life," he murmured +again. "Sleep sound, and have no fear. The offering will be complete, +though the time is short indeed." + +So, turning on his heel, he passed into the dusk, beyond the gate, +whither the flower had pointed. + +A fortnight later he came out of it once more, passed into his hut in +the gloaming, dressed as a pilgrim, and emerged therefrom ten minutes +afterwards in the red and yellow coat, with a huge white turban with a +bend, as the heralds call it, across it bearing his master's crest. So +altered, he slipped back into his place as if he had never left it, +and setting aside the reed screen at the door of Sonny's nursery, +stood within. Sonny, in his white flannel dressing-gown, was +convalescent enough to be saying his prayers, kneeling on his mother's +knee. + +"Go on, dear," she said gently. "You can speak to Bisram afterwards." + +Sonny, whose feet were less wayward, now shut his eyes again, and +assumed a prayerful expression. + +"--an' all kine friends, an' make me a velly good boy--yamen--O Bisra! +where's the Noose?" The mother might smile, unable so far to pretend +ignorance. Not so Bisram, bearer, who had his orders. + +"What Noose, Shelter of the World?" he asked gravely. "Thy servant +remembers none; but he hath brought the Protector of the Poor a toy." + +It was only one of the many which you can buy in any Indian town for +the fraction of a farthing, made of mud, straw, cane; a bit of tinsel +perhaps, or tuft of cotton-wool, their sole value over and above the +ingenuity and time spent in making them. But Sonny had never seen this +kind before, and laughed as the snakes, made out of curled shavings, +leapt and twisted. Leapt so like life that his mother drew back +hastily, telling herself that the bearer had certainly a fine taste in +horrors. And no doubt there would be some tale to match these. Sonny, +however, seemed to know it vaguely, for a puzzled look replaced the +laugh. "Yea! Bisra," he said in imperious argument, "Mai Kali had +snakes and skulls too; but I like the Noose best. Why didst not bring +it back, son of an owl?" + +The man never moved a muscle. "The little master mistakes," he replied +calmly. "It was some others who tied the Noose. Not this dustlike one. +He is but the Protector of the Poor's bearer, Bisram." + + + CHAPTER II + +A year is an eternity to the memory of a child. Indeed before a +twelfth of one was over Sonny had ceased from suddenly, irrelevantly +asking, "O Bisra! where is the Noose? Why didst not bring it back, son +of an owl?" The thought seemed to have passed from his life +altogether. From Bisram also, as he tended the child night and day, +day and night, unremittingly, contentedly. + +So the spring of the year returned, and with it, by one of those +mysterious coincidences beyond classification, came the old desire. It +came suddenly--irrelevantly it seemed to Sonny's parents--during a +brief attack of fever which the changing season brought to the boy. +But Bisram, bearer, hearing the little fretful wail, "O Bisra, where +is the Noose? I want the Noose," stood silent for a moment with a +scared look in his eyes, then turned them in quick appeal to his +mistress, as if to ask leave for something. But she was silent also, +so the old formula came gently-- + +"What Noose, Shelter of the World?" + +That evening, however, when Harry--as his mother vainly strove to call +him, now that, as she used to tell the boy fondly, he was a man and +had had his curls cut--had fallen into the heavy sleep which brings so +little relief, the bearer came into the study and asked for his usual +yearly leave. A week might do, but leave he must have at once. True, +the year was not up, but the master would doubtless remember that his +slave had deferred going at the proper season last time because of +Harry-_sahib's_ illness (Bisram, punctilious to the least order, never +forgot the child's new dignity). He did not want to lose the right +season again; and so, if he went now, at once, even for a week, he +would be back in time even if Harry-_sahib_ were to be ill as he was +last year, which Heaven forbid! + +He was quite calm, but there was an almost pathetic entreaty in his +dark eyes, so soft, so dark, that looking into them, one seemed to see +nothing save soft darkness. + +"Go!" commented Sonny's mother, when, moved by a vague feeling that +Bisram meant well, his master handed on his request to the real +authority. "Certainly not. I wonder he has the face to ask for leave +when Sonny--I mean Harry--is down with fever. Not that it is anything, +the doctor says, but a passing attack. Still, I am not going to run +any risks with a strange servant. Go, indeed! It shows what his +pretended devotion is worth--" + +"Surely, my dear, he _is_ devoted--" + +"Oh, very! in his way. But really you spoil Bisra, Edward. Just +because he can tell you things about those horrid gods and goddesses. +Do you know, I really think of getting an English nurse for the child +until I have--until I have to take him home," interrupted his wife, +her initial sharpness of tone softening over the inevitable certainty +of separation which clouds Indian motherhood. "It cannot be right to +let him live in such an atmosphere of superstition and ignorance." + +The magistrate, who was leaving the room, had paused at her remark +about the nurse as he might have paused before a painful scene. "By +Jove!" he murmured as if to himself, "I believe it would break the +man's heart. I often wonder what on earth he'll do when the child +has--to go home." + +The inevitable lent a tremor to the father's voice also. But Bisram, +despite the former's belief, spoke of the same separation quite calmly +when, the very next morning the doctor coming early, found his little +patient in the verandah getting the advantage of the fresh, bright air +in Bisra's arms. + +"When," asked the latter, calmly, but with that slow pathetic anxiety +in his eyes, "was Harry-_sahib_ going across the black water?" + +"You think he ought to go?" said the doctor. "Why?" + +"This slave does not think; he knows! The little master must go--go at +once," replied the man, still calmly, though he held the child to him +with a visibly closer strain. "The _Huzoor_ himself knows how bad +Hindustan is for the little ones. He must go, _Huzoor_, before he gets +worse." + +"But he is not going to get worse," said the doctor, kindly. "He is +better already, and if he has another bout of fever his mother has +promised to take him to the hills, so don't distress yourself." + +Bisram's dark eyes looked wistfully into the doctor's. + +"The hills? That would be worse. That would be nearer the evil. He +must go far from Hindustan at once, _Huzoor_; and if you tell the +_mem_ this she will go--she will not mind." + +"And you, Bisra?" asked the doctor, curiously. + +The man's eyes flinched, but he never stirred a muscle under the blow. + +"I am only the little master's bearer, _Huzoor_. He will not need one +much longer: he grows big." + +"It is only because he is in a hurry to get away himself, I verily +believe," said Sonny's mother, when the doctor, also vaguely impressed +with something in the man's appeal, told her of it. "You can't fathom +these people. Oh! I know he wouldn't abate one atom of his care, and +it is simply wonderful. All the same, I believe that just now he would +be glad to be rid of the necessity for it, since it clashes with some +of his religious notions. That's it, depend upon it. And I mean to let +him go as soon as Sonny--I mean Harry--is better; and he really is +better to-day, isn't he?" + +"Much better. And you may be right; only it's always impossible to lay +down the law for men like Bisra. Those high-caste hill Brahmins are a +law unto themselves. However, I expect to find the boy quite cool +to-morrow." He was not, however, and more than once, as he lay in +Bisra's arms, the little fretful wail rose between sleeping and +waking. "Where's the Noose, Bisra? I want the Noose." And Bisra would +pause as if waiting for a promise of wayward life in threat or abuse, +and when neither came would turn a wistful appeal to authority, and +when it was silent say-- + +"What Noose, Shelter of the World?" + +But in the dead of night a day or two later, when even maternal +authority slept for a brief spell, Bisra's answer to the request, +which came almost incoherently from the child's dry lips, was +different. + +Then he stood bent over the boy's cot in the attitude of a suppliant, +and his joined petitioning hands trembled. + +"Why dost ask it, Kali ma?" he whispered rapidly. "Lo! have I not +served thee? Would I not serve thee now if I could? But I have +promised this, and they will not let me go for the other. Lo! Kali ma! +be merciful and ask no more, and when the child has gone away, I will +serve thee all the years--yea! every day of all the years." + +There was no passion, no excitement in his face or voice; only that +pathetic appeal which passed into a murmured lullaby as the restless +little sleeper turned on his pillow with a sigh of greater content. + +"Better again this morning," was the doctor's verdict, with the rider +that Bisram himself stood in need of a little rest. The man smiled +faintly when his mistress replied that it would be her turn that +night; though, to say sooth, Harry certainly did seem to improve when +she slept. + +"Perhaps Bisram works charms," remarked the doctor, thoughtlessly; +whereat she frowned. + +Charms or no charms, the boy was certainly worse next morning, and +that despite the fact that Bisram, who had steadily refused to go +further than the verandah, had spent the night huddled up outside the +threshold, within which his mistress refused to allow him to come. He +needed rest, she said, and though she could not compel him to take it, +he should at least not work. + +"You had better let him have his own way to-night," said the doctor at +his evening visit. "The child gets on better, and you are fresher for +the day's nursing. Those thin, delicate-looking natives are very wiry, +and if the man won't rest, he won't, and that's an end of it." + +He spoke cheerfully; but as he was getting into his dogcart he saw +Bisram at his elbow. "The doctor-_sahib_ thinks the little master very +ill to-night?" he asked quietly. + +"So ill that you must do your very best for him to-night. If any one +can pull him through, you can, remember that." + +"_Huzoor!_" said Bisram, submissively. + +It was a very dark night; so dark that the rushlight in Sonny's room +seemed almost brilliant from the verandah. Looking thence you could +see the child's cot, one of its side rails removed, and in its place, +as it were, the protection of Bisram's crouching figure. He did not +touch the cot; he crouched beside it with clasped hands hanging over +his knees, and dark eyes staring hard into the darkness as if waiting +and listening. + +So he sate, his clasped hands loosening, his eyes growing softer as +the hours passed, bringing nothing but half-conscious sleep, +half-conscious wakening to the child. Until suddenly, irrelevantly, +just on the border-land of night and day, the fretful wail rose upon +the silence loudly, insistently-- + +"Where is the Noose, Bisra? I want it. O Bisram, bearer, bring the +Noose, and strangle something." + +The slackness, the dreaminess left the man's hands and eyes. He +stood up blindly, desperately to face these last words; the words for +which he had been listening. Yet there was still the same pathetic +self-control as he stretched his hands out over the sleeping child. + +"Lo! Kali ma," he muttered, "have I not served thee as ever, despite +the child. Have I set him before thee? Nay! thou knowest I have risked +life itself to have thy tale of offering complete when I was hindered. +Thou didst not suffer. Wilt not wait for once? Wilt not wait one +little while?" + +His voice, sinking in its entreaty, ended in silence. But only for a +second. Then the fretful wail began again. + +"The Noose, Bisra! Be not unkind. Remember I am ill. O Bisra! I want +you to strangle something for me--" + +Bisra gave a faint sob; then joined his outstretched hands. + +"_Huzoor!_ so be it! the Noose shall find a victim. Yea, Shelter of +the World, Bisra will strangle something. Sleep in peace!" + +There was no sound in the room after that save the little contented +sigh in which restlessness finds rest. + +Outside, the shiver of the cicalas seemed to count the seconds, but +inside the hours seemed to pass unnoticed as Bisra sate beside the +cot, his hands listless, his eyes dreamy. There was nothing to wait +for now, nothing to fear. That which had to come had come. + +So with the first glint of light, a stealthy step glided in, and an +anxious voice whispered-- + +"How is it with the child, Bisra?" + +"It is well!" he whispered back, rising rather stiffly. "He hath slept +since the darkest hour. He will sleep on." + +The mother, peering carefully for a glimpse of the child's face, +smiled at what she saw. + +"He sleeps, indeed. Thou hast done well, Bisra!" + +He made no answer. But ere he left the room, his night-watch being +over, he paused to touch the foot-rail of the cot with both hands and +so _salaam_, as those do who leave the presence. + +Sonny was still sleeping when his father, entering his study with a +lighter heart, found a stranger, as he thought, awaiting him there. It +was a man, naked save for a waistcloth, lean, sinewy, lithe; the head +was clean-shaven, save for the Brahminical tuft, and the face was +disfigured by the weird caste marks of extreme fanaticism. + +"Who--?" he began, shrinking involuntarily from one who might well be +dangerous. + +"It is Bisra, _Huzoor_" said a familiar voice, gently. "Bisra, the +child-bearer. Bisra, the servant of Kali also. Lo! here is Her Noose." +As he spoke he held out the crimson-scarlet handkerchief twisted to a +rope, and coiled in his curved palms like a snake. "The master, being +learned, will know the Noose and its meaning. It hath brought Her many +a blood-offering, _Huzoor_. Many and many every year without fail. And +it will not fail this year either. It will bring Her the blood of Her +servant, the blood of Bisram the Strangler." + +"Bisram the Strangler!" echoed the magistrate, stupidly, as the even, +monotonous voice ceased. Then he sate down helplessly in his chair. In +truth he knew too much of the mystery of India to be quite +incredulous. + +Yet two hours after, when with the help of the police-officer he had +been cross-questioning Bisra upon his confession, he told himself as +helplessly that it was incredible--the man must be mad. He had been +born to strangle, he said, and had strangled to keep Kali ma content. +That was necessary when you were born Her servant, especially when you +had children. Perhaps he had let the little Shelter of the World creep +too close to his heart, though he had striven to be just. At any rate +Kali ma had become jealous. He had not known this, at first, or he +would never have given the mistress that promise about the Noose, for +if it had been in Harry-_sahib's_ hands Devi would never have sought +his life. She always protected those with the Noose--they never came +to harm--unless-- He had paused there, and then asked quickly if he +had not said enough? Did they want him to tell any more! He could not +give them the names of the victims, of course, not knowing them; but +they were many--very many. + +"There is nothing against him but his own story," said the magistrate, +fighting against his growing conviction that the man spoke truth. "I +can't commit him to the sessions on that." + +"There is something more, I think," replied the police-officer, +reluctantly. "Don't you remember that man who was found dead in a +railway carriage about this time last year? He had an up-country +ticket on him, and as this was out of the beat of Stranglers, no +inquiry was made here. It was just about this time, and--and Bisram +says he was in a hurry because the year was nearly up. He had been +nursing the boy." + +The boy's father, leaning with his head on his hand, groaned. + +But Bisra was quite cheerful. He looked a little anxious, however, +when two days after he was brought up formally to be committed for +trial. There was still nothing definite against him save his own +confession and the coincidence of the strangled man in the railway +carriage. But opinion was dead against him amongst his countrymen. Of +course he was one of Kali's Stranglers. Did he not look one? Was he +not born one? So how could he help being one? The argument brought no +consolation to Sonny's father. But Bisram again was cheerful. He stood +patiently between two yellow-legged policemen and told his tale at +length, as if anxious to incriminate himself as much as possible, +anxious that there should be no mistake. And when all the mysterious +intricacies of charges and papers were over, and the two policemen +nudged him to make place for other criminals, with a friendly "Come +along, brother," he paused a moment with handcuffed, petitioning hands +to ask how soon he was to be hanged. + +The magistrate, leaning his head on his hand, made no answer. He knew +what the question meant, and could not. The thought of his little son +came between him and the truth; namely, that Bisra's sacrifice must +wait the law's pleasure. + +The doctor, too, in charge of the gaol where Bisra awaited trial, had +not the heart to tell the truth. Every day when on his rounds he +looked into the cell, like a wild beast's cage, where Bisra, being a +Strangler, and therefore dangerous to life, was confined alone, he +answered the question which the tall, naked figure stood up at his +entrance to ask in the same words. Harry-_sahib_ was better, and as +for the hanging, that would come soon enough, never fear. Yet every +day the pathetic, self-controlled eagerness on the man's face struck +him with a sense of physical pain, and left him helpless before his +own pity. + +Until a day came--after not many days--when with a face sad from the +sight of bitter grief that he _could_ understand, the sense of his +absolute helplessness before the mystery of this man's nature made the +doctor feel inclined to throw pity to the winds and fall back on sheer +common sense. After all the man was a murderer; and if he had been +fond of the child--what then? Such criminals were often men of strong +affections. + +Yet once again, the sight of the submissive, _salaaming_ figure, the +sound of the wistful yet calm voice made him answer as usual. The +child was better. The hanging would doubtless come ere long. + +For once, however, Bisram did not accept the reply as final. + +"The _Huzoor_ means that it will not come today?" he asked quietly. + +The doctor raised his eyebrows. "To-day? What made you think of +to-day? Certainly not. There's no chance of it." + +But he was wrong. Two hours afterwards the gaol overseer sent for him +in a hurry, because Bisram had completed his sacrifice by strangling +himself in his cell with his waistcloth. What else could he do, seeing +that it was the last day of the year during which the propitiation of +a sacrifice kept Kali ma from revenge? + +"Poor devil!" said the doctor, as he stood up after his useless +examination. "I'm glad now I didn't tell him the child was dead." + + + + + THE HALL OF AUDIENCE + + +"This, gentlemen and respected sirs," said the blatant specimen of new +India whom my friend Robbins had insisted on having as a guide to a +ruined Rajput town, "is Hall of Common Audience, in more colloquial +phrase, Court of Justice, built two, ought, six before Christ B.C. by +Great Asoka, mighty monarch of then united Hindustan, full of Manu +wisdoms, and sacred Veda occultations--" + +Then I gave in. "For God's sake, Robbins," I said, "take away that +fool or I shall kill him. A man who be-plasters even the Deity with +university degrees is intolerable here." + +Robbins gave me that look of condoling forbearance which had nearly +driven me mad for a week and beguiled the _babee_ away promptly, as if +I had been a fractious child. I was, however, only a jilted man. A +badly jilted man, whose jilting was of the kind which becomes almost +comic from sheer excess of tragedy. To be brief, I had gone down on +ten days' leave to Bombay to meet and marry the girl to whom I had +been engaged for two years. Robbins, who was coming out in the same +ship with her, was to have been best man. We had certainly been in +love with each other when we last met; at least, if I was not, I have +never been in love at all. If she was not, then I have never seen a +girl in love. I wish to be absolutely fair in the matter, so I will +confess that, as I went to meet her, I knew myself to be less +emotional than I had been two years before. I had even vague qualms as +to whether this sort of thing was quite wise. I was, to put it curtly, +in the mental condition in which every man about to marry a _fiancee_ +whom he has not seen for two years must be. Presumably her mental +condition was similar. But whereas I had to spend the three weeks +preceding the irrevocable step in a jungle station where any novelty +must necessarily be attractive, she spent it in an environment which +gave her endless opportunities of seeing other men, and comparing them +with me, and her ideal. The result being that she found she was in +love with some one else. Being frank and honourable she told me the +truth, with a kind of blank dismay. She did not offer to fulfil her +engagement. How could she? when from the beginning to the end, from +her first confession that I was her ideal, to her last letter, then in +my breast pocket, the whole fabric of our future lives had been built +by us on our belief in the permanence of this selfsame love of ours. +We could only look in each other's eyes and wonder what was the matter +with the foundations of our round world. + +Robbins said I behaved splendidly. In truth I was too much stunned at +first to realise what it actually meant, and then a certain contempt +for them both, especially for the man who came and offered me a shot +at him, made me magnanimous. I merely offered in my turn to be best +man at the wedding, and was only deterred from doing so by the feeling +that it was theatrical, and by Robbins suggesting that I had better +have some ice on the back of my head. He meant well, did Robbins, and +insisted on accompanying me on what was to have been my wedding tour; +for I had my ten days' leave, and I was in no hurry to go back to the +gossiping little station where the bungalow I had furnished for her +lay waiting a mistress. + +Yes! Robbins meant well, and by sheer counter-irritation kept me +going. There was a honeymoon off the same ship which came up country +with us stage by stage, and the efforts Robbins made to prevent me +from seeing its bliss were pathetically comic. The bride and +bridegroom wore neat, new, brown-leather shoes, and she had a new +brown-leather handbag, just like one which I had carried for my +_fiancee_ before she explained the situation. As I sate opposite them +I wondered savagely if my face had worn the idiotic smirk of sheer +content visible on the man's, and I tucked my own new brown shoes +under the seat. They looked so forlorn beside Robbins' big boots. For +all that, I combated all condemnation of the delinquents for the first +three days. The only honourable theory of marriage being that based +upon a mutual and romantic love, it would be unjust because of a +single mistake, to blame any one for acting in accordance with a +belief which had made Englishmen and Englishwomen what, thank God, +they were. In fact I was badly, brutally moral, until, coming out into +the hotel verandah during one of our rests by the way, I happened on +the bride and bridegroom looking at the moon. + +Then the primeval desire to murder rose up, seized me, and held me. +Why hadn't I taken the scoundrel's offer and killed him? I was a good +shot; and Robbins, as an army doctor, an excellent second. Then I +could have married the bride-widow, or spurned her, as I preferred. + +There was really, I told myself, no logical foothold between this and +being best man. If marriage was an affair of love, these two were +right, and the part designed for me by Providence obviously that of +second fiddle. If not, they were wrong, and I had a right to claim +redress. To shilly-shally, feeling at once hurt and magnanimous, was +absurd. I had lain awake, afterwards, debating half in jest, half in +earnest, whether I should send Robbins back to the wedding with my +cartel, or go myself with a set of silver salt-cellars in a velvet +case. But underneath my jest and earnest lay a keen yet vague desire +to understand, to find some solid spot on which to rest. I had still +been debating the question, when, to please Robbins, who liked me to +have no time for thought, we had driven out next morning to these +ruins. The country through which we drove had been the ordinary +Rajputana country; flat--or nearly so--dry, rocky. Then we had come to +a spiky, spiny, roach-back hillock, over which the dead town sprawled, +half buried in its own dust, half lost in the sunshine. + +I had been watching Robbins' big boots all the way, so I was in a bad +temper. Apart from other causes, however, I had some excuse for +threatening to kill the guide. For the Hall of Audience to which we +had just climbed was, briefly, one of those places which make some +of us nineteenth-century folk remember the warning given long ago to +an eager reformer to take the shoes from off his feet, since the +ground whereon he stood had already been made holy by other hands than +his. Yet it was plain almost to bareness. Devoid utterly of any of +that ornamentation telling of human hopes and fears, likings, +dislikings, and ideals, which men all over the world strive wistfully, +hopelessly, to make permanent by carving them in stone. But it was a +miracle of light and shade, with its triple ranks of square stone +columns--rose-coloured in the sunshine about their feet, blood red in +the gloom of arches about their heads--standing like sentinels round a +Holy of Holies which was roofed only by the open sky, and floored +level to the marble pavement surrounding the still pool, with clear, +cool water. And through the outer arches, on all sides, showed that +indefinite glare, and dust, and haze, faintly yellow, faintly +purple--that burden and heat of the Eastern day in which millions are +born, and toil, and die--which seems to swallow up the real India and +hide so much of it from Western eyes. + +I had just got so far in my appreciation of the indefinable charm of +the place, when Robbins returned to stand beside me and look down on +the brimming water. + +"Curious!" he said, "at the top of a hill like this. I wonder what's +the reason of it?" + +"Those of uncultivated mind, sirs," replied New India, promptly, "hold +it by reason of Grace-of-God. We who through merciful master's aid +have acquired hydraulics prefer system of secret syphons; though the +latter belief is optional." + +"If that man remains here," I remarked aside to Robbins, "I refuse to +be held responsible for my actions. Take him away and see the rest of +the ruins. I am going to stop here--this is enough for me." + +They went off together, the guide babbling of modern equity. The last +words I heard were a quotation: "Boots not to say, O Justice! what +asperities have not been committed in Thy name!" + +Perhaps. No doubt dreadful things had been done even in this Hall of +Audience, though it lay very still now; very silent in the sunshine. + +I sate down on the base of a sentinel column and looked at the sky, +mirrored at my feet, wondering what other things the water had seen. + +So by degrees the question seemed to clamour at me. What had been done +there? What was it? What gave the place its charm for me? For it had a +charm, an infinite charm. + +I gave an impatient shrug of my shoulders at the sound of footsteps. +Robbins need not surely watch me as if he feared I might commit +suicide; though the water certainly looked inviting. But it was not +Robbins. It was an old man with a shaven head, and a very clean +saffron-coloured cloth, coming through the pillared ranks with a brass +_poojah_ basket like a big cruet-stand in his hand. My mind misgave me +instantly. He was far too clean for a real ascetic, and there was a +bogus air about him as of one expecting tourists and their alms. In +addition he came straight towards me, and squatting down by the edge, +within reach absolutely of my contaminating shadow, began to mutter +prayers. + +I rose disgusted; but my first movement showed me I was at any rate +partly mistaken, for he turned his head, startled at the sound. Then I +saw he could not have known I was there, for he was blind. I saw also +that the basket which he had set down contained nothing but the +star-like flowers of the wild jasmine. + +"Whom are you going to worship?" I asked instantly, for I was a +connoisseur in ceremonies, having spent years of study over the +ancient cults of India. + +He stood up instantly and salaamed, recognising the accent of the +master. "No one, _Huzoor_," he replied. "I am only going to make +Mother Atma her crown." + +"Atma!" I echoed. "Who was she?" + +A half-puzzled, half-cunning look came to his face. "It is a long +story, _Huzoor_; but if the Cherisher of the Poor will give his slave +a rupee--" + +Returning to my first impression of him, I was about to move away, +when he added plaintively: "I tell it better than the _baboo_, +_Huzoor_, but now-a-days he comes with the _sahibs_. So my stomach is +often empty. May God silence his tongue!" + +The desire pleased me. It matched my own. And as I paused, I noticed +that the old man, who had squatted down again, had begun to thread the +jasmine flowers on some link which was invisible from where I stood. + +"What are you using to thread the flowers?" I asked curiously. + +"A woman's hair, _Huzoor_. It is always the hair of a woman who has +died, but whose child has lived, that is used for Mai Atma's crown. +Shall I tell the story, _Huzoor?_" + +"Was she beautiful?" I asked irrelevantly, why I know not. + +"I do not know, _Huzoor_," he replied. "Am I not blind?" + +The answer struck me as irrelevant also, but I went on idly, feeling, +in truth, but small interest in what I was convinced must be some +hackneyed tale I had heard a hundred times before, since I was given +to the hearing of tales. + +"Is it about this place?" I asked. + +He shook his head again. "I do not know, _Huzoor_. It is about Mai +Atma. Shall I tell the story?" + +"You seem to know very little about the story, I must say. How do you +know it is about Atma?" + +He smiled broadly. "It is about Mai Atma, sure enough. The _Huzoor_ +will see that if he lets me tell the tale." + +I clinked a rupee down among the jasmine flowers and bid him fire +away, and be quick about it. + +He began instantly, plunging without any preface into a curiously +rhythmed chant, the very first line of which gave pathetic answer to +my irrelevant question, and at the same time showed the cause of the +old man's ignorance. It ran thus:-- + +"O world which she has left, forget not she was fair." + +Vain appeal when made in the oldest known form of Arya-Pali--the +dialect in which the edicts of Asoka are carved--and of which not one +man in ten million, even in India, knows the very existence. I +happened to be one of the few, and though at the time I could +naturally only gather the general outline of the chant, I subsequently +took it down word for word from the old man's lips. Some passages +still remain obscure; there are yawning gaps in the narrative, but +taking it all in all, it is a singularly clear bit of tradition, +preserved, as it were, by the complete ignorance of those who passed +the words from lip to lip. Roughly translated, it runs thus:-- + +"O world she left, forget not she was fair; so very fair. Her small +kind face so kind. Straight to the eyes it looked, then smiled or +frowned. About her slender throat were gold-blue stones. Gold at her +wrists; the gold hem of her gown slid like a snake along the marble +floor, coiled like a snake upon the water's edge. + +"By night she asked the stars, by day the sun, what they would have +her do. + + + "I was her servant sitting at her door, + Watching her small feet kiss the marble floor; + Reading the water mirror's heaven-learnt lore. + + +"O world she left, remember she was Queen! + +"For Atma ruled a queen ere she was born, her widowed mother wasting +nine long months to give her life ere following the King. + + + "O Atma mata! strike thy servant blind, + He and his sons for ever, lest they find + Thy face within the crown their fingers bind. + + +"Hark! how her voice comes echoing through the Hall, 'Who hath a claim +to-day 'gainst me or mine?' (There was a dainty jewel at her breast, +kept time in sparkles to her lightest word.) + +"'Who hath a claim'--her small, kind face so wise! + + + "O Atma mata! strike thy servant blind, + He and his sons for ever!" + + + * * * * * + + +"See! how her soft feet kiss the marble floor! Atma, the girl-queen, +dancing to herself, close to the pool; the jasmine in her hair falling +to fit the rhythm of her feet, and scent their warm life with the +scent of death, or sail away upon the water's breast like mirrored +stars. Oh, bind from them a crown; a crown for Atma mata, who is +kind--for Atma, who hath struck her servant blind." + + + * * * * * + + +"Hark! how her voice comes whispering in my ear: 'I see naught but my +own face in the deep. No other face but this--my face alone. And there +are always stars about my head, or else the sun. Read me the riddle +quick.' (There was a tremor in her perfumed hair which matched the +tremor of her perfumed breath.) 'Atma is queen,' I said; 'the stars, +the sun, weave crowns as I do. Wear them. Oh! my queen.' + + + "O Atma mata! rightly am I blind, + Blind was I then in heart and soul and mind. + + +"Hark! how her voice comes echoing through the Hall. (The cold blue +stones about her slender waist clipped all her purple robe to long +straight folds.) 'Go tell your masters, Atma needs no King. She is the +Queen, her son shall be the King, and not the son to Kings of other +lands. So if they seek for beauty, seek not mine--it is not mine to +give--it is my son's! My son the gods will send me ere I die.' + + + "O Atma mata! strike thy servant blind, + He and his sons for ever, lest they find + Thy face within the crown their fingers bind. + + +"See! how her slim hand grasps the marble throne. See! how her firm +feet grip the marble step! Hark how her voice rings clear with angry +scorn. (There was a loose gold circlet on her wrist, slid to soft +resting as she raised her arm.) 'Oh! shame to brawl like dogs about a +bone! Cowards to kill because a woman's fair. Can they not take the +promise of a Queen? Go! bid your masters bind fair sons in peace. Atma +will choose a father for her King--she needs no lover.' + + + "O Atma mata! strike thy servant dead. + + +"'Hush!'--just a whisper on the water's edge, a faint glow from the +sacred censer's fire. 'What dost thou see, my friend, down in the +deep? There in the circle of the sacred flowers?' (The incense cloud +rose white upon the dark, and hid us from each other, hid all things +save water and our hands--her hands in mine clasped in the cold clear +pool.) 'Naught, oh my Queen! Naught but thy face--thy face--beside +mine own.' (Cold was the water, cold her little hand, cold was her +voice.) 'Nay! more than that,' she said, 'thou dost forget the stars +about my head.' + + + "O Atma mata! strike thy servant blind, + For being blind in heart and soul and mind. + + +"Hark! how her voice goes echoing through the Hall. 'Go, bid your +masters sheathe their swords at once, nor spill men's blood because a +woman's fair. For I have chosen. I will wed with none, but since God +sends the children to the world and asks no questions how they come or +why, I will take him as father to my King. The law allows adoption; be +it so. From out God's children I have bought a son to be your King and +mine. Lo! here he stands.' (Her arm about the sturdy, dimpled limbs +drew the child closer to the cold blue stones clipping her purple robe +to long, straight folds.) 'Some woman bore him--fair and strong and +bold--bore him by God's decree to be a son. That is enough for me who +am your Queen. Go, tell the brawlers, Atma hath her King.' (So +stooping, whispered softly to the boy, who straightway lisped to order +parrot-wise.) 'Who hath a claim to-day 'gainst me or mine? Who hath a +claim?' And as of old came answer: 'None, O King.' + + + "None said they all, and so I held my tongue. + O Atma mata! shall I ever find + Thy kind, wise face? Oh! wherefore am I blind? + + +"Hark! how her voice breaks in upon the child's. A claim at last. + + + "So they--these kings--have dared + To kill my people--nay! not mine--my son's! + Have they no shame--no pity for the poor? + + +"The gold hem round her robe's straight virgin folds coiled like a +snake asleep upon the floor, the sparkling jewel fastened on her +breast shone bright and steady as a distant star. + +"There was no tremor in her perfumed hair, there was no quiver in her +perfumed breath; the cold blue stones about her throat and waist, the +loose gold circlet on her slender wrist, the jasmine-blossom chaplet +in her hair, looked as though carved in stone, so still she stood +before the dead man on the marble floor. + +"His red blood crept in curves to find her feet and clasp them in a +claim for vengeance due, while those around cried 'Justice from the +King!' + +"Until she smiled--her small, kind face so wise, and her clear voice +came echoing through the Hall. 'Vengeance is mine,' she said, 'and not +the King's. Send forth no army, spill no blood for me. Search not the +water-mirror for a sign. I know the answer of the sun and stars. So +send our heralds out, and bid these Kings come as Kings should, and +not as murderers to plead their cause before the King, my son. Come +with all state as to a wedding feast, come with all hope as +bridegrooms to the bride. My son shall choose my lover, so prepare all +things in order--music, feasting, flowers.' (Then turned to where I +stood, and said aside: 'Forget not thou to make a jasmine crown.') + + + "O Atma mata! wherefore was I blind? + Did I not know how wise thou wert, how kind, + How cold thy hand, how warm the heart behind? + + +"Fair, strong, and bold he stood, the little King; the noonday sun +above the child's bare head scarce cast a shadow on his small, bare +feet, standing so straight beside the water's edge, where, half afloat +upon the clear, still depths, a small round raft of jasmine-blossoms +lay ready to give the omen. + +"Heaped so high, so piled with little scented stars, that I--her +servant with the crown she had bespoke--stood wondering what need +there was of all. And round about the mirror-pool in rank sat Atma's +lovers waiting the decree. + +"Till suddenly the baby raised his hand. (There was a loose gold +circlet on his wrist, which smote him on the breast as it fell back, +making him wince, so all too large it was.) But the child bit his +lip and took no heed, knowing his kingly part right royally; so, +parrot-wise, he lisped the ordered words: 'My mother Atma hath no need +for love; since she hath mine. She hath no need, my lords, for you as +lovers, but she sends by me, as sister sends her brothers, that which +sure should heal the strife and make you brothers too.' + +"So at the last he stooped, and with a push sent the flower-raft +afloat upon the pool, dipping and dancing on the waves it made, so +that the loose, white blossoms of the pile floated to drift like stars +upon the depths, leaving what lay beneath them clear and cold. + + + "O Atma mata! why was I not blind? + Thy face, thy face was there in flowers enshrined! + Thy cold dead face, with cold dead flowers entwined. + + * * * * * + + "O world she left! to bring it peace not war. + O world she left, forget not she was fair, + So very fair. The jasmine in her hair + And round her kind, wise face; about her throat + The cold blue stones, and for her queenly crown + The sunlight in the water--like the stars. + + "O Atma mata! strike thy servant blind, + He and his sons for ever, lest they find + Thy face within the wreath their fingers bind." + + * * * * * + +The old man's song ceased, but he went on without a pause. "The +_Huzoor_ will hear that it is all about Atma. Her name is there +always." + +He had finished stringing the flowers also, and now with a deft hand +set the fragile garland--strung like a daisy chain upon a dead woman's +hair and then tied to a circle--afloat upon the water, where it +drifted idly, each separate flower separate, and keeping its appointed +place. + +A crown of scented stars! + +I roused myself to answer. "Undoubtedly it is all about Atma; but you +have not told me why you weave the crown?" + +"It is always woven, _Huzoor_," he replied. "Our family belongs to the +place, and as one son is always blind, he stays at home--since he +cannot earn money at other trades, _Huzoor_--and makes Mai Atma's +crown as his fathers did." + +"One son is always blind?" I echoed curiously. + +"Always, _Huzoor_. It is ever so. One is blind in each generation, so +he makes Mai Atma's crown." + +_He and his sons for ever!_ a strange coincidence truly. + +"Then no one has ever seen her face 'within the wreath their fingers +twine'?" I asked, quoting the words involuntarily and forgetting that +he could not understand them. He answered the first part of the +sentence. + +"How could that be, _Huzoor_, seeing we are always blind?" + +True. But if one was not blind? My thought was interrupted by Robbins' +voice from behind. + +"Hope you haven't found it long, old chap; but the _baboo_ really +knows a lot about Asoka. Fine old beggar he must have been. And then +he has got a chant about some female called Atma who had a lot of +lovers, don't you know." Robbins pulled himself up hastily, and, to +cover his confusion, protested that it was just the sort of +unintelligible gibberish which interested me, and thereupon bade the +_baboo_ give me a specimen. + +Before I could stop him, the brute had got well into the first line; +but even in my wrath I was relieved to find that it was indeed +absolutely unintelligible. New India evidently did not understand the +old. I came to this conclusion before I got my fingers, as gently as I +could, inside his rainbow-hued comforter and choked him off. + +"I cannot help it, Robbins," I said as I tendered the _baboo_ five +rupees as hush-money. "If you knew all you would excuse me." + +Robbins gave me one of his most sympathetic looks and said he quite +understood. + +Did he? Did I? I asked myself that question over and over again, until +in the dead of the night I could ask it no longer. The desire for an +answer grew too strong. + +It was still night when I stood once more beside the water's edge. The +moon had paled the red ranks of the sentinel pillars, the dust and +heat and burden of the day was gone. All things were clear and flooded +with cool, quiet, passionless light. And on the water lay the crown of +starry flowers. It had drifted close to the edge, at the extreme end +of the pool, beside a square projection in the marble floor, whence +you could look clear into the depths. No doubt the place of +divination. I went over to it moved by an irresistible impulse, and, +kneeling down, thrust my hand into the cool water. + +Was it fancy, or did I feel a cold, soft hand in mine? Was it a +passing dizziness, or did a white, scented vapour close round me like +a cloud, hiding all things save the water framed in that crown of +jasmine? + +_Atma! Mai Atma!!_ + + + * * * * * + + +There was no need so far as I am concerned for the appeal-- + + + "Forget not she was fair." + + +I have never forgotten it, though it is years since I saw, or fancied +I saw, her face in the water. + +But I have forgotten other things. Indeed, I forgot them so speedily +that I saw poor old Robbins was quite puzzled and hurt in his +feelings. So, before my wedding tour came to an end, I thought it +kinder to give him something definite as an excuse for my +cheerfulness. I told him, therefore, that I had fallen in love with +some one else. + +He gave a low whistle, said, "By Jove!" then added heartily, "Upon my +soul, old chap, I believe it's the wisest thing you can do." + +Perhaps it was. But I am not yet married. I am waiting for a woman who +does not want a lover. + + + + + IN A FOG + + +A great flock of fleecy white clouds were browsing up the steep +hillside like sheep, and hiding part of the great map of India which +lay spread out five thousand feet below one of the isolated peaks +which rise, in sheer masses of granite, from the dusty deserts of +Rajputana. + +Even to their dustiness, however, had come a faint tinting of green, +since the seasonal rains had begun. For the moment, nevertheless, the +incessant deluge had ceased, giving place to one of those brilliantly +fine monsoon days--fine with the fineness of gentian skies, and +snowdrift clouds, which remind Indian exiles of the cold, crisp North. + +But already these same clouds were losing their lightness and +beginning to sink earthwards; sure sign that the break in the rains +was at an end. Still here, in the little station beside the lake, +which looks as if the least tilt would make it brim over and send it +rolling like quicksilver to the sun-dry plains below, the sky was all +the clearer because of the steady increase of those fleecy flocks +among the glens and ravines which spread outwards, downwards, +ray-like, star-shaped, from the summit. + +The increase was so steady that, after a time, the flocks coalesced, +and the likeness passed into that of a rolling sea, through whose +waves the knolls and peaks rose like islands; until the whole scene, +lake and all, showed as a clustered coral reef shows in the Pacific +Ocean--still, dream-like, peaceful utterly. + +There was no peace, however, on the face of the Englishman in undress +uniform who was sitting at an office table in the verandah of a +thatched bungalow, which, fenced in perfunctorily from a sheer +precipice on three sides by a frail trellis of bamboo solidified by +morning glories, was perched above the now unseen levels below. + +"If I could get reliable information," he muttered irritably, "I could +be prepared. But I can hear nothing of the relief columns, and it is +quite impossible for me to predicate the movements of the mutineers; +yet without this it is difficult to know how to receive them." + +His voice rose as he went on, for a yawn and a stir from a +lounge-chair set in the shade, told him he had a listener. + +"Not the laste bit in loife, me dear bhoy," came with the yawn. "Sure +we've got to kill them somehow." + +The first speaker looked up angrily from the map he was studying. + +"Perhaps if I were only directly responsible for fifteen +convalescents, as you are, Tiernay, I should be content to--to be in a +fog. But I am the Brigade Major, and in the absence on duty of the +commanding officer, and, I regret to say, all but a mere handful of +native troops, I am responsible for the safety of a hundred and +thirty-five helpless women and children--their lives and deaths--" + +He was interrupted by the mixed sound of a laugh and the finishing of +some brandy and water over which Dr. Tiernay had evidently been +snoozing. + +"Divvle a bit. Loife and death's my business from wan year's end to +the other. There's responsibility for yez. And I kill as many as I +cure, as all we pill-boxes do. Sure we haven't a fair chance, for a +man keeps well without a doctor. It's when he thinks of dyin' he comes +to us--an' nine toimes out of ten we can't help him. For talk of bein' +in a fog! Be jabers! it's nothing to the British Pharmacop[oe]ia. When +I write a prescription I always put D.V., weather permitting, at the +tail of it." + +The Brigade Major looked at the dishevelled, lazy figure, so different +from his own, distastefully. + +"Well, I prefer a clearer conception of my line of treatment. Now if +this portion of the rebels, which, there seems little doubt, are +making for us here"--his finger followed a red line he had marked, +"elect to proceed--" + +"Elect, is it?" interrupted the doctor. "Sure they won't elect to do +anything. It will come to them widout their knowing how, like fayver +or catarrh. An' it's no manner of use beginning to physic a patient +till ye know what disease fancies him. So lave off wid worrying, me +dear bhoy, and just get out the salts and senna--" + +"Salts and senna!" echoed the Brigade Major, angrily. "Really, +Tiernay, considering you are the only other man in the place--for I +don't count your miserable convalescents, of course, and my handful of +natives is more an anxiety than a help--I do think you might talk +sense." + +Dr. Tiernay rose, yawned, and walked over to the office table, a tall, +lank figure with a reckless, whimsical face, alert now to the +uttermost. + +"An' isn't it sinse? Salts and senna is what's generally wanted to +begin with. Well, I've collected every lethal weapon I can lay hands +on, including the dintistry case and the horse-pistols with which me +grand-uncle, Macturk of Turksville, shot his wife's brother; so me +salts and senna's ready. And, by the Lord, I'll exhibit it too whin +the patient comes along--trust Micky Tiernay for that. But till he +does"--here his face took a sudden, almost serious gravity--"ah, just +quit cultivating omniscience, and lave the fog alone. Sure only the +divvle himself could say what the blackguards will do." + +"But Hoshyari Mul, the banker, thinks--" + +"Is it that fat, oily brute? Oh, don't belave him. Don't belave what +anybody says. They don't know--not even what they'll be at themselves +if the mutineers _do_ come. There's only wan thing certain--there's +but wan straight road from Nusseerabad up the hill to us. That's the +tail end of it yonder through the break in the mist. Oh, I've been +kaping an eye on it, I tell yez, even in my sleep. Well, if they come, +they'll come that way." + +"But Koomar the priest--" + +Dr. Tiernay looked across the placid, still sunbright levels of the +little lake, at the wonderful Jain temples which made this hilltop one +of the holiest spots in all India, and shook his head. + +"Don't trust him either, for all his white robes and his piety. He +means well; but he's more in a fog than we are, for we know that we +don't want the mutineers to come, and he isn't sure. How can he be? +I'd just throuble ye to imagine his mental position--if ye can." + +So saying, he took up his battered helmet, which looked as if some one +had been playing football with it, and strolled over to the hospital. +It was perched on another knoll close by, yet the mist now lay almost +level between it and him; for the curved waves had given place, like +the fleecy flocks, to a new formation of fog. This, far as the eye +could see, was a flat plain of cotton-wool, white, luminous, on which +the knolls, the temples, the glittering lake, showed like jewels. + +He dipped into the cotton-wool as it lay soft in the hollow, and out +of it again ere entering the hospital verandah, where a man in the +loose uniform of a dresser rose from his task of polishing a pair of +horse-pistols and saluted; a trifle unsteadily, for he, though the +best of the bunch of convalescents, was somewhat of a cripple. Had he +not been so, he would not have been left behind when every man who +could hold a rifle tramped down the hill to do the work that had to be +done in the plains, if not only Englishwomen, but England herself was +to be saved. + +"Parade will be a bit short to-day, sir," he said, with cheerful +regret, "for Corporal Flanagan 'e 'ave 'ad to 'ave a hemetic, sir, and +the fly-blister on Private MacTartan's chest is has big has a +hostrich's hegg." + +"Dear, dee-ar," commented the doctor in long-drawn sympathy, +as he passed into where a dozen or more of men in grey flannel +dressing-gowns were lounging about in their cots or out of them. They +were an unshaven, haggard-looking lot, though one or two were +beginning to show that air of alertness which tells that soul and body +are coming back to the bustle of life. + +One or two, again, lay cuddled into their pallets with that other +hospital expression--impatient patience. + +Most, however, were between these two extremes, and one of them asked +eagerly: "Any news of the brutes to-day, sir? It would be just my luck +when I'm down with another bad turn." + +"Bad turn go to blazes," retorted Dr. Tiernay, with a reassuring +smile. "News of the varmint would have more therapeutic power than +every drug I possess, an' a galvanic batthery wouldn't be in it wid +the first shot. Faix even if I'd killed ye, ye'd do old Lazarus to +spite me. Oh, Flanagan, there ye are. A bit white about the gills, me +bhoy, but it's a foine thing to be in light inarching order. An' as +for you, MacTartan, sure you've the illigantest protective pad evver a +man wore above his heart. Is there any more of you would like wan?" + +Yet as he made merry, the doctor's eye had wandered to where the tail +end of the upward road had shown more than once for a second, between +a rift in the wet blanket; for that only connection between mutiny and +helplessness climbed the hill perilously along a steep funnel-shaped +ravine, up which the draught, caused by the cool air above the hot air +below, swept like a chimney driving the fog before it. + +There was nothing to be seen, however, not even a rift or break; so he +went on to dress the leg of a cripple on crutches. He was in the +middle of bandaging it when an excited voice called him by name from +the verandah, and he rushed out, bandage and all, so that his patient +remained attached to him by a fluttering ribbon of linen. + +He found the Brigade Major on his pony. There was news at last. The +mutineers were coming, but not by the road. They had been seen on the +old footpath to the north--they evidently meant to steal a march in +the rear. + +"What made ye come and tell?" asked the doctor suddenly in Hindustani +to the naked figure which had brought the news. It was that of a Jain +ascetic with a muslin cloth bound about his mouth, so as to prevent +the destruction even of the unseen life around him. + +The set brown sanctity of his face wavered. "They come to kill--and I +kill nothing." + +Dr. Tiernay turned on his heel and faced the man on crutches (who, +after vainly begging to be told what was happening, had come crawling +on all-fours like a dog to the verandah), and began as it were to haul +him in by rolling up the bandage. "Who the divvle tould ye to move, +Tompkins?" he said; "come in at wanst and let me finish me job." + +"But, doctor," protested the Brigade Major. + +The doctor swung round again at the appeal. + +"Don't believe his saintship. Don't, for God's sake. If it's killing +he objects to, sure isn't he helping us to kill them? That sort of +thing doesn't work. See you--he says there are five hundred of them. +Sainted Cecilia! if that's so, an' they mean to come and kill us, why +come up the back stairs?" + +"But he says,--and Koomar also, and even Hoshiari Mul--" + +"Well, I'd rather trust the fat little banker if it comes to +trustin'," interrupted the doctor, "for, see you, I owe him money, and +if I'm killed he won't get it. But if I were you I'd trust none of +them. Even Hoshiar, compound interest at a hundred and fifty per cent. +to boot, does not know what he'll be at, so take my advice and sit +tight where ye are." + +The Brigade Major did, very tight and square on his pony. + +"I'm sorry you don't agree with me, Dr. Tiernay," he said stiffly, +"and, of course, being in independent medical charge of this +convalescent depot, you can remain behind if you choose. Indeed I +think it would, in a way, be wiser, since your fellows would be of +little use." + +Dr. Tiernay looked round on the contingent of crippledom which had +crowded and crawled to the verandah to listen. "Faix," he said, "their +hearts are whole, anyhow, an' that's half the battle. But what's your +plan?" + +"I have thought out this eventuality before, and am certain that our +defence must be at the defile--you know--about four miles from here. I +shall take every soul I can--it's better to give every one something +to do." + +The doctor nodded. "That's sound, anyhow. Satan finds--then I'll stay +here." + +"If--I fail--you will do what you can for the women and children--I +shan't give the alarm now; so--so you might tell my wife by-and-by--if +necessary." + +Mike Tiernay walked back and patted the pony's neck. + +"I'll tell her. And ye may be right--ye can't tell--it's just a fog. +Anyhow, the cripples will do what they can for the ladies and the +babies--though wanst those murderin' villains set foot on the summit, +it's all up--so--so--I'll keep an eye on the road for ye. Well, +good-by, me dear bhoy, and good luck to ye." + +The sun, that was still shining brightly above the mists, shone on the +men's clasped hands for a moment. + +After that, Dr. Tiernay finished Tompkins' leg. + +It was rather a long job, as it had to be done all over again. Then +there were minor hurts to arms and hands, so that an hour must have +passed before the doctor, wiping his hands with the curiously minute +care of the surgeon who knows what risks he runs, suddenly dropped the +towel and said-- + +"Sainted Sister Anne! they're coming." + +Yes. The rift for which he had been watching with the carelessness +which comes with custom, had showed that tail end of the road for a +moment, and showed something on it--a trail of men and horses, a +flashing of bayonets and spear-points. + +Ten minutes after the man on crutches was the only one left in the +hospital, and he was sitting on the edge of his cot sobbing like a +child disappointed of his holiday; but Mike Tiernay had left him the +horse-pistols by way of consolation, with instructions to hold the +fort as long as he could, and prevent the damned rascals from touching +even the drugs. + +"Ye'll have the best of it after all, I tell ye," had been the +doctor's farewell, "for sure ye'll be sitting at your ease shootin' +straight long after we've been silenced; and a last shot is always a +last shot." He was wondering what his would be as he led his company +of cripples through the hollow of mist which lay between the hospital +and the head of that road whose tail had shown the upward gleam of +bayonets. + +As yet, however, everything was peaceful. The lake, the temples, the +isolated houses set on their knolls, even the lower cluster of the +bazaar were all bathed in sunshine, with the curious, translucent +brilliance which only Indian sunshine can give. Only between them, +clinging to every hollow, lay the thick, luminous white fog. + +Mike Tiernay took off his helmet, wiped his forehead, and looked +around. + +"It's no good in life making the poor things anxious," he muttered to +himself, "an' if we can keep the divvles at bay _he_ will be back to +tell his own story. But I'll just give a look round to hearten them +up; there's plenty of time, for I can catch up the cripples in a +jiffy." So, bidding his men march slowly down the road (saving +themselves as much as possible, since their work would be cut out for +them afterwards) until he rejoined them, he set off with swinging +strides to the semi-fortified houses, in which, more for the name of +safety than for the hope of it, the helpless women and children had +been gathered during the last few days. + +"Any news, doctor?" asked the Brigade Major's wife, coming out to meet +him, her six months' baby in her arms. "Dick isn't back from office +yet, and it's such weary work, waiting, waiting." + +Dr. Tiernay bent rather abruptly to look at the fretful child, which +was teething badly. One or two other women, pale-faced, anxious, their +little ones clinging round them, had gathered to listen, and he spoke +as it were to all. + +"Well, it can't be long now, any more than it can't be long before +Dick comes back, or before that troublesome eye-tooth comes through. +If all goes well, me dear madam, all the worry will be over by +tomorrow." + +"And if it isn't you will come with your lancet, won't you?" asked the +mother, pleadingly. + +Dr. Tiernay frowned portentously. "It's against me principles, +madam--but I'll use--well, some kind of lethal weapon, I promise you. +An' tell your husband, when ye see him, that my cripples did as well +as could be expected, considering the fog." + +"Did as well?" she asked. "What have they done?" + +"Gone for their first walk down the road," he replied, with a cheerful +laugh, "an' I must be affther them to stop them from overtiring +themselves. So good-by. Dick'll maybe bring good news." + +"How cheerful he is always," said one pale-faced mother to another. "I +always feel safer when I've seen him; and, you know, he can't really +think there is any immediate danger or he wouldn't have talked of +coming to lance the baby's gums, would he?" + +Whatever Dr. Tiernay might have _thought_, he was by this time +beginning to realise that in the fog it was impossible to _know_ +anything--even the positions of his own cripples. "Are ye all there, +wid as many legs an' arms as ye have whole?" he called, after he had +given the order for them to fall in; "for, by the Lord that made me, I +must take ye on trust; ye might be anybody." He paused; his eyes lit +up suddenly; he gave a wild hooroosh. + +"I have it, men; let's play the fog on the divvies, an' be damned to +them. They can't see us, so let's take them in flank at the zig-zag. +Smith, out wid yur engineer's eye an' tell me what's the length of the +zig-zag--wan zig of it, I mane." + +Smith, in the fog, thought a moment or two. "Close on a mile, sir, +more or less, and there's four of them." + +"Say three-quarters, and we are fifteen; no, it's fourteen, for we had +to leave poor Tompkins wid his crutches an' the horse-pistols. +Tompkins absent." + +"Beg pardin', sir," came a voice from the fog; "Tompkins present. Come +a all-fours down the short cut quite easy." + +"Fifteen," corrected the doctor, calmly, "fifteen into twelve hundred +yards. Faix, it'll have to be open order."--He paused for an odd catch +in his breath, something between a laugh and a sob. "See here, ye +gomerauns--English, Irish, Scotch, whatever ye are--that's our game. +We're not fifteen; we're fifteen hundred." + +The cripples out of the fog broke into a faint cheer. + +"You've got it, Mick Tiernay!" they assented wildly. "You've got it, +doctor dear! The fog's our game." + +"We're fifteen hundred strong, an' we're each of us a hundred men an' +two officers," called the doctor back. "Now, d'ye understand, men? +open order it is--wan hundred yards or thereabouts, at the top +zig-zag, and chargin' down on the divvies in flank--an' the gift of +tongues--an' Donnybrook Fair--Hooroosh, Pat! come on, lads." + +The next moment, hirpling, hobbling, unseen even of each other until +sometimes a jostle would bring a low-toned witticism--"Now, then, +Cap'n, keep your regiment orf mine, will ye?" or, "I'll throuble you, +sorr, to respect me formation!"--the men were making their way, fast +as crippledom would let them, towards their forlorn hope. And despite +the witticisms, their haggard lean faces, hidden, like all else, in +the fog, were stern and strained. Men's faces are so, when each man +has to find place in his body for a hundred souls. + +"Quiet's the word. Let them come on almost to the turn," was the +doctor's last injunction as he posted his men; the strongest at the +narrowest end of the zig-zag because they would the soonest come upon +the enemy, and so on in varying gradations of convalescence, till the +line of the supposed battalion stopped at the widest end with +Tompkins, who was given as much ammunition as they could spare, and +told to fire freely, regardlessly. + +The doctor himself, with MacTartan close beside him ("so as," he said, +"to increase the illushion"), were at the extreme angle. The unseen +road lay below them, not fifty yards off, and below that again, the +doctor knew, was an almost precipitous grass slope down to the next +zig. + +"We must start them on that short cut, if we can," he said to his +supporter, "an' if we do, they'll rowl and rowl and rowl to perdition, +please the Lord!" So they waited, the jest forgotten in earnest. + +Then suddenly through the fog came a jingle. + +"Tenshion, B Company," whispered the man who had had a bad turn (his +name was Brown) to himself, and steadied his shaking hands on his +musket as he listened. Another jingle. A sound of voices first; then, +as suddenly as the jingle had come, came a thud of many feet. + +_Thud, thud, thud_. + +Then all along the hillside, all along that three-quarters of a mile +or more, a volley--not of rifles, but orders--orders familiar to those +below, and suggestive of colonels and majors, regiments and wings, and +companies. Finally, at the narrowest end, a call to fire and charge; a +reckless volley into the fog, and then two reckless figures flinging +themselves into the uttermost void, God knows how, God knows where, +save that it was downwards on that climbing foe. + +MacTartan first; remembering his Highland corries and half bursting +his lungs in his effort to give the Highland yell of a whole regiment. +Yet beneath the grim joke a grimmer earnest lay, as in the fog he and +his bayonet found something. + +"Hech, now! Is that you?" he said grimly, and the something was a man +no more! + +"Steady, men. Follow me!" shouted Dr. Tiernay. Once more the mist +produced something, and two men in deadly earnest hacked at each other +with swords. + +"Go on, brothers! run! they are behind us! run! Go back, brothers! +they are ahead!" came the cry. And above it rose those orders. From +close at hand a dropping fire; and from the far end--Tompkins' end-- +quite a respectable volley. + +"Come on! come on! and let them have the bayonet!" shouted the doctor +again; and with the shout one or two more men grew to sight from the +mist upon one side of the climbing road. But the men who had been on +the road first were disappearing into the fog on the other side; +disappearing down the grass slope to the next zag. Only at the turn +where the doctor and MacTartan fought side by side, the difficulty of +escape made resistance fierce from a knot of troopers, till, with a +curse, MacTartan caught one horse by the bridle, and deliberately +backed it over the edge; but not before, in his desperate effort to be +strong as he once had been, he had stumbled and fallen before the +flash of a sabre that passed in mad flight downwards. "Gorsh me, I've +spoilt myself," he murmured sadly, as he rose with difficulty. + +"What is it, man? Are you wounded?" cried the doctor, rushing up. + +"Bruk me blister, sir," replied MacTartan, stolidly, reaching for his +bayonet and going on. + +That upper zig-zag was clear now; but below in the fog lay another, +and another, and another, where the fugitives might be caught. So the +battalion charged again and again, while Tompkins coming down quite +easily, "a all-fours," fired volleys steadily. + +The jest and the earnest of it, what pen can tell? + +Till through the fog rang a faint hurrah. The last of the zig-zags had +blindly been reached, and neither far nor near upon the hillside down +which the battalion had charged in open order, was foe--not to be +seen, but felt! The uttermost void was void indeed. + +"We've got no dooleys, men," said Dr. Tiernay, wiping his forehead +once more, "so the wounded must crawl back to hospital as best they +can." + +So they crawled. All but Tompkins; the doctor insisted upon carrying +him pick-a-back, on the ground that he, the doctor, was the only whole +man in the battalion, and was bound to do double work. + +And the next morning, when he went his rounds, he stood for a minute +or two beside a fretful baby, and then took out his lancet. + +"It's against me principles, me dear madam," he said, with a shrug of +his shoulders; "for there's a toime for everything, and everything in +its toime; and no one, not even a tooth, knows what it would be at +till that toime comes. But as I said the throuble would be over, and +the rest of it is;--why, I'll keep my word!" + +And it was over; for a message saying he was close on the heels of his +messenger came from the general in command of relief. + +The fog had lifted by this time, lifted for steady rain; so the +English troops coming up found the foes more easily than the battalion +had done. But the foes were dead. Those random shots, those reckless +charges from nothingness to nothingness had done some work. + +And part of it was on the naked body of a Jain ascetic, with a bit of +muslin swathed about his mouth, lest, inadvertently, he should bring +death to the smallest of God's creatures. + + + + + GOLD, FRANKINCENSE, AND + MYRRH + + +"Oh! Mummy," said the Boy, as his mother slipped a sort of nightgown +over his trim little khaki uniform, "I think it'sh shkittles!" + +Boy's invariable dissent--picked up about the barracks of an Indian +cantonment--was applied in this instance both to the angelic robe +represented by the nightgown, and the angelic part the child was to +play in it. + +For it was Christmas Eve, and the vague desire for peace and goodwill +which, even in these latter days, comes with Christmas-tide, had made +the English aliens in the station devise a Tree for those still +greater aliens--the Boer prisoners--who lived among them in the +strange spider's web of barbed wire, which to the casual eye seemed so +inefficient a prison for enemies who had defied capture so long, so +bravely. + +It was Boy's mother who had started the idea. She was one of those +women, lovable utterly, not always reasonable, who find solace in +dramatising their own sorrows. So when, two years before, her husband, +commanding a native cavalry regiment still quartered in the station, +had been ordered to Africa on Staff duty, she had remained on in the +big house, sharing it with a friend, and continuing religiously to +care for all things for which her absent soldier had cared--even for +the regiment which was still so proud of its Colonel at the front. + +It was a heartrending solace, indeed, to see the native officers and +men, when they inquired for the latest news, salute Boy as solemnly as +they would have saluted his father; and it pleased her to perceive +that the only regard these warriors had for _her_ was as guardian of +their Sahib's honour and of his only son; for the wellbeing of which +things they were fiercely jealous. + +To this woman, militant to the heart's core yet sentimentally pitiful, +it had seemed appropriate that Boy--son of the only fighting father in +the station--should play the part of the "_Christ-kind_," the Bringer +of good gifts at the Christmas-tree. There was no geographical or +ethnological reason why this German custom should obtain among the +Boers, but Boy's mother had recollections of school-days abroad, and +thought that her little son, with his aureole of red hair and grave +baby face, so like the absent hero, would look sweet in the part. + +"It isn't skittles at all, Boy," she said softly. "Remember what I +told you about loving your enemies." + +"I'd wather fight 'em, like Daddy," replied Boy, drawing from its +scabbard the miniature sword of strict regimental pattern which--it +being a new toy--he had refused to lay aside even for angelic robings. + +"But it is Christmas," persisted his mother. "Remember what I told you +about it--about the angels, and the peace, and goodwill." + +"I shink Chrishmus shkittles, too." + +"Quite right, youngster! It _is_ skittles in India," put in a tall +man, who, farther down the verandah, was watching a woman's fingers +busy themselves over church decorations. + +His rather reckless expression changed as, stooping to select a +brilliant branch of scarlet-fingered poinsettia from the confused heap +of flowers and greenery at their feet, he handed it to his companion, +and she looked up to thank him with her eyes. + +Boy's mother, who had glanced towards them at the interrupting voice, +paused over the angelic robe, uneasily silent. + +"I wish I had something white, beside the roses," remarked the +cross-maker a trifle hurriedly. "They don't look a bit Christmassy." + +"Lilies?" suggested the man. + +She shook her head. "Lilies don't suit the climate; there aren't +any--_here_." + +He stooped and spoke lower. "Yes! it's a God-forsaken spot all +round--for _you_. But, look here! I saw a _dhatura_ actually in +blossom to-day--close to my bungalow. It's not unlike a lily--as +white, anyhow--and sweeter. They use it in their temples--so why not +in church? It doesn't do to be too particular--when you want +anything." + +She shook her head again. "It's poisonous--besides, it doesn't do--to +leave the beaten path." + +"Try!" + +There was a pause; for the undercurrent, which had seemed to sweep +each trivial word to another meaning, seemed suddenly to sweep this +man and woman within touch--dangerous touch--of each other. + +"What _are_ you two talking about?" asked Boy's mother, coming towards +them. "What a lovely cross, Muriel! And why, please, should Christmas +in India be skittles, Colonel Gould?" + +He laughed. "How stern you look! I wish I could get that righteous +indignation up for orderly room. I need it!" + +"My husband never found the regiment difficult to manage," interrupted +the wife of its absent commander jealously. + +"Nor do I," retorted its present head, "but--" he paused, not caring +to explain that he, an outsider sent but lately to drill a corps back +to the discipline it had lost after her husband's departure, had +naturally a very different task. + +"Hullo, Boy!" he said, to change the subject, "that is a jolly little +sword! Who gave it you?" + +"Hirabul Khan gaved it me," replied the child. "When I'm Colonel, +he'sh going to be my risshildar, 'cos you shee he was my Daddy's +orderly first, an' then Daddy made him--oh, lotsh of fings." + +"He'll have to look out if he doesn't want to lose some things," said +Colonel Gould, sharply; then answering a vexed look of Boy's mother, +continued: "He was a _protege_ of your husband's, I know--but he +really has wind in his head. For his own sake it must be got out. I +put him under arrest to-day, and told him squarely I'd have to block +his promotion." + +"What had he done?" She spoke quite fiercely. + +"Cheek, as usual. It was over that escape from the camp. Haven't you +heard? Viljeon, that cantankerous brute who gives so much trouble, +managed to get out again last night. I wish it had been any one +else--for he's half mad and dangerous. I'm glad the General has +ordered the search-party to shoot at sight if he offers resistance." + +Boy, in his white robe, his toy sword in his hand still, nodded his +red aureole sagely. + +"The Tommies down at the camp told _me_. He'sh just an awful brute, +Vile John is. He is goin' to kill all the little English children he +meets, 'cos--'cos they killed his: but that's a damned lie." + +The calm deliberation of the last was so evidently imitative that +Boy's mother smiled, despite a sudden pain at her heart. + +"They died, dear, and so you must be very sorry for him. Think how sad +I should be if--" The thought produced a sudden caress, a sudden +glisten in her grey eyes. "Now, Boy of mine, let me take that thing +off. Then you must go and lie down and sleep, for you'll have to keep +wide awake half the night." + +"Take care of my shword, Mummy, please!" said Boy, superbly, as, in +unrobing, he shifted it from one hand to the other; "it's most +dweadful sharp!" + +"By George, it is," remarked Colonel Gould; "a trifle too sharp for +safety." + +"Is it?" said Boy's mother, anxiously. "Hirabul ought not--" + +"It wasn't Hira," interrupted Boy. "It was Kunder sharped it, so as I +could kill Vile John if I met him, like as my Daddy done over in +Africa. Didn't you, Kunder?" + +A figure squatting in a far corner rose and salaamed. + +"The _Huzoor_ speaks truth." + +The speaker was an old man, slender, upright, unusually dark-skinned; +this latter fact made his bare limbs look curiously youthful and +lissom. + +"Done it uncommonly well, too," assented Colonel Gould, feeling the +edge. "Where did you learn the trick?" + +"Your slave was once sword-sharpener by trade," was the submissive +reply. + +"Kunder'sh an awful clever chap," said Boy, loquaciously. "He can +make--oh! all sorts of fings as deads people--bows and stwangles, you +know--can't you, Kunder?" + +The man salaamed, with a watchful look at his other hearers. + +"And," continued Boy, in vicarious boasting, "he can do all sorts of +dweadful fings, too! He can steal people's purses when they'se +sleepin', an' make dicky-birds tumble off bwanches, an' little boys +like me wake never no more--can't you, Kunder?" + +Submissiveness grew crafty. "This slave has certainly told such tales +to the children-people." + +"Looks scoundrel enough," remarked Colonel Gould, carelessly. "Where +did you pick him up?" + +"Oh! he isn't _my_ servant," replied Boy's mother. "He is Muriel's. I +can't think why she keeps him." + +The cross-maker rose and held her work at arm's length. "Does any one +really know why they do anything?" she asked. "Perhaps, as you say, he +will steal my jewels some day--or murder me. But, as Boy says, he's +awful clever, and one must be amused! Now I must go and put this up. +Will you drive me to the church, Colonel Gould?" + +"Better come in the victoria with me," said Boy's mother, hastily; "it +is going to rain." This other woman, this childless wife with an +unspeakable husband, must be guarded from herself. + +"I don't think so," put in the Colonel, firmly. "Kunder! call my +dogcart, and we can go round by my bungalow and pick the _dhatura_." + +Kunder, passing on his errand, looked up curiously at the last word. + +Colonel Gould gave back the look. "Queer customer! Shouldn't wonder if +he's a Thug--they use _dhatura_ poison to stupefy their victims, you +know." + +He spoke carelessly as they stood looking out at the bare patch of +parched ground called by courtesy a garden. The lowering sky, of an +even purplish grey, was so dark that the level lines of dust-laden +_sirus_ trees along the road showed light against it. + +"I wish some one would stupefy me," said Muriel, with a sudden passion +in her voice; to cover which she went on recklessly: "How I hate +Christmas in India!--the sham of it--sham decorations--sham church, +for it isn't real! The reality is outside among the poor folk in the +fields and the towns, to whom Christmas is a day when _we_ guzzle and +_they_ pay the piper!" + +"My dear Muriel!" + +"It's true! Think of it! Peace and goodwill? Isn't the whole station +at daggers-drawing because one lady said another wasn't the +best-dressed woman in India? Isn't your regiment, Colonel, ready to +murder you? Then that camp, right in the middle of us Christians, with +how many prisoners eating their hearts out? And Vile John--as Boy has +been taught to call him--half mad in thinking of his children who have +died. Oh, I know it is all inevitable--but think, just think of him +wandering about this Christmas Eve, liable to be shot at sight. +There's a Santa Claus for you!" + +Her voice had risen, her fingers had closed tremblingly on the sprig +of poinsettia she had fastened in her breast. It showed against the +white laces of her dress like a clutching scarlet hand. + +Colonel Gould shrugged his shoulders uneasily. "Don't forget Kunder in +the picture of peace and goodwill!--Kunder with his 'fings as kills'; +for the matter of that don't forget _you_ and _me_, and the rest of +us! The Decalogue is in danger on Christmas Eve as always--perhaps +more so." + +"I don't believe it," exclaimed Boy's mother in sudden pitiful +emotion. "Don't believe him, Muriel! Wait and see! Why, even that +storm brewing"--as she spoke a shivering seam of lightning shot +slanting across the purple pall behind the dusty trees--"only means +the Christmas rains. How welcome they will be after this endless +drought! They will perhaps save millions of lives--" + +"A doubtful message of peace," put in the Colonel, drily. "But hadn't +we better start? or we shan't have time for the _dhatura_." + +"You haven't time," said Boy's mother, sharply. "You must be back by +eight, Muriel, for we have to be at the camp by nine. Ayah will bring +Boy down ready dressed when we want him--so please don't be late." + +This thing which she saw looming as plainly as she saw that storm in +the sky, should not be if she could help it. They were too good, both +the man and the woman, for that sort of ruin. + +She shivered as she watched the dogcart drive off. Truly +there were storms ahead! And that thought of Viljeon--childless, +half-distraught--wandering about, liable to be shot like a wild beast, +made her fear for what might happen ere Christmas dawned. + +The verandah darkened silently after she left it. Every now and again +a puff of wind rattled the dry pods of the _sirus_ trees, making them +give out a faint crackle like that of a scaled viper coiled watchfully +in a corner. + +Kunder, in _his_ corner, sate up keenly as a snake does. There was a +louder crackle of a stealthy footstep. + +"Is it well?" came a stealthy voice. + +"If Fate wills," replied Kunder, sinking back again to sloth. + +A stealthy hand reached out a tiny paper packet wound with unspun +silk. + +"The sleep-giver--from the Master--it is fresh and good." + +"There is no need for sleep-giving," replied Kunder, passively. +"The _mem_ is drunk with the love-philtre women crave. I know their +ways"--he gave a little soft laugh. "She will not return to-night. So, +at dawn, I and the jewels will be--with the Master--if Fate so wills." + +"Why should She _not_ will?" + +Kunder laughed again. "Who knows what Fate _may_ will?" + +He looked out, when the stealthy footstep had gone, at the dusty trees +that were growing ghostly in the twilight, and told himself again that +none knew. Had _he_ known when, as a lad, he fought against the +Sahibs, that one day the death of a Sahib's five-year-old son would be +to him as the death of his own child? Had _he_ known when that +nursling's red-gold curls--so like Boy's curls--lay confidingly on his +breast, that one day he would be thief--perhaps murderer? + +No! it was as Fate willed. He was, as ever, in Her hands to-night. + +Another footstep! not stealthy this time, but hurried even in its +measured military rhythm. + +It was Hirabul Khan, the disgraced native officer, seeking an appeal +to Colonel Gould before the limitations of an open arrest made it +necessary for him to return to his quarters. + +"Yea, he was here!" replied Kunder, cynically. "He is ever here--after +the _mem!_ Where hides the doe thither comes the buck!" + +Hirabul twirled his moustache fiercely. "Keep thy tongue off thy +betters, scum of the bazaars, or I break thy every bone. I give thee +womenkind in general--but _this_ one is different. Whither hath he +gone? for I must see him." + +"No need," retorted Kunder, spitefully. "Thy pottage is cooked +already. He told the _mem_ so but now. 'No promotion,' said he--I know +their speech. And she--" + +"Base-born!--and she?" + +"She laughed, as I do--scum of the bazaars! Ha, ha!" A devilish +malignity had seized on him; he chuckled even while Hirabul shook him +like a rat. + +"Liar! Cur! Whither hath he gone?" + +"To the church--with the _mem!_ Thou wilt see! 'No promotion,' said +he; and she--" + +With a curse Hirabul flung the chuckler from him, and strode away into +the growing darkness. + + +The church stood--after the manner of Indian churches--in a garden, +and on the wide sweep of gravel round it carriages were awaiting the +owners, who were busy within. The Colonel's dogcart was among them. So +he was there, sure enough. + +Hirabul Khan, hesitating at the open door he dared not enter, could +see straight along the aisle to the altar; could see the cross of +poinsettia and white roses upon the latter, the text above it-- + + + "Unto us a Child is Born." + + +Unmeaning as it all was to him, he stood looking at it dreamily, until +suddenly from the unseen transept the Christmas hymn began, and those +of the decorators who were not remaining for choir practice came +trooping down the aisle. Then he retreated hastily to where the +Colonel's dogcart stood, that being his best chance of the interview +which, if humble apology might avail, would mean much to his pride. + +So he waited, watching with uncomprehending eyes, listening with +uncomprehensive ears-- + + + "Oh! come all ye faithful, + Joyful and triumphant, + Oh! come ye, oh! come ye to Bethlehem." + + +Suddenly, on those distant voices, the sound of nearer ones became +audible. He stepped back a pace or two, and peered through the thicket +of rose and pomegranate. + +The scum of the bazaars had spoken truth, then! That man and woman +standing so close to each other in the scented twilight were the new +Colonel, the real Colonel's wife! What infamy! He set his teeth and +listened--though this was to him as incomprehensible as the call to +peace and goodwill had been. + +"For God's sake, have pity on her!" Boy's mother's voice was full of +tears. "I heard you settle it. But if you two pick that _dhatura_ +tonight--'the last thing after the Tree, so that it may not wither!' +Oh, yes, I heard, Colonel Gould--" + +"You _did_ hear. I don't deny it. My dear, kind lady--think! If it is +not to-night--it _must_ be soon. This life is killing her--it is +wiser, kinder, to end the struggle now--" + +"No! no! give her time. It is in your power to do this, for she loves +you. Remember it is Christmas; you might, at least--" + +"The better the day! No; Christmas must take care of itself--if _it_ +can! I mean to take her away and care for her--if _I_ can. But thanks, +all the same. I shall never forget your kindness." + +In the semi-darkness the listener could see the man stoop and kiss the +hand laid on his arm. + +The next instant Colonel Gould was turning savagely on the figure +which had thrust itself on to the path. + +"What the devil are you doing here, sir? You are under arrest, and +should be in quarters." + +"It was only open arrest, sir, and the time--" Hirabul's tone matched +the mutiny in his heart, and the Colonel broke in on it roughly-- + +"Consider it close arrest now. Go back and report yourself at +once--and, by Heaven! if you say another word, I'll have you +court-martialled. Go!" + +A wild surge of impotent rage kept Hirabul Khan speechless, and ere he +recovered himself the Colonel was driving off--the Colonel and a +woman! + + + "Sing, choirs of angels, + Sing in exultation." + + +He turned and shook his fist at the church; then plunging recklessly +through the garden, sought silence and solitude. He needed calm before +he could even begin his revenge. + +There was no doubt about the coming of the rains now. More than one +heavy, curiously round drop fell on the dust through which he strode; +but all was still--very still as yet. + +By-and-by twinkling carriage-lights, like fireflies, began to sparkle +among the straight row of trees leading to the prison camp. + +Yet the rain kept off, and it had not even begun to fall when the +_ayah's_ twinkling light roused Boy for his robing. But half awake, +the child grew fractious, calling all things "shkittles," save the +killing of Viljeon, who, he asserted, was hiding in the garden. To all +of which _Ayah_, awaiting the carriage, agreed, until her charge, +seated on his little bed, grew drowsy once more, and she stole off for +a last pull at her forbidden pipe. + +But Kunder's light went on twinkling in the farther room, where he was +conscientiously finishing his old domestic duties, and preparing for +new ones. + +So after a time the carriage arrived, bringing with it a smell of damp +dust. + +"Hurry up, woman!" called the coachman. "It has begun down the road +like the storm of God. Bring the child; it were best he was soon in +safety." + +Bring the child! How? When Boy, with his little pretence wings sewn on +to his nightgown behind, his little sword that was not all pretence, +was not to be found! + +The twinkling lights--Kunder's among them--were all over the garden, +accompanied by endearments, threats, promises. + +"_Shiv-jee_ save him!" muttered Kunder, as suddenly the rain began to +fall in torrents, quenching his light, and washing him from head to +foot. The child with the red-gold curls of his race might well drown +on a night like this! + +The Colonel felt the same fear, as, waiting at the camp-gate to pass +the child in, he heard the news first; then, with a brief order that +the boy's mother was only to be told that the carriage had been +unable to return, owing to the violent storm, and that therefore the +gift-giving must go on without the little giver, started to join the +search. + +Hirabul also, who, waiting his opportunity for revenge, had dogged the +Colonel's footsteps all that evening, heard the tale as he skulked in +the crowd, put up his revolver, and with a sob at the thought of his +far-away _sahib_, unconscious of his wife's treachery or his son's +danger, set himself another task. + +So the rain fell, and the wayfarers, keeping by the flare of incessant +lightning to the raised roads, said to each other: "This is the deluge +of God! Repent, while there is time!" + + + * * * * * + + +"What a terrific noise it makes on this iron roof," said Boy's mother, +when the gift-giving was nearly over. "I'm glad Boy didn't come--he +might have been frightened." + + + * * * * * + + +Was he frightened out in the dark alone? He had been. Not at first, +however, when, half asleep, it had been almost a game to slip into the +garden to find and kill Viljeon, and so, cunningly, when he found no +one, into the belt of jungle adjoining it. He was not even frightened +when, stumbling over the rough ground and his long white robe, he +began to tire of his quest and tried to go back. It was not until the +lightning which heralded the bursting of the rain-cloud turned the +wilderness round him into black and white shadows that his courage +left him, and he started to run blindly, too terrified to think, still +too brave to scream. + +But he was not frightened now. He was fast asleep, cuddled warmly on a +big, broad breast against a big brown beard. + +For that quaint little figure, sword in hand and with its ridiculous +fluttering wings, had, almost in its first flight, run full tilt +against a man who was crouching to leeward of a big tuft of +tiger-grass--a man whose head was buried in his crossed arms, but who +sprang to his feet with a curse at the unmistakable touch of humanity; +then, as a flash of lightning showed him the white robe, the wings, +the golden aureole of hair, fell back faltering. + +"God in heaven!" he muttered in a foreign tongue. "What dost Thou +here?" + +Boy needed no question as to his wants. "Oh, please!" he panted, "take +me home. I wanted to kill Vile John with the sword as Kunder sharped; +but now I'd wather, please, give the Chrishmus fings--the peace, you +know, an' all that--please, sir. I weally would wather--" + +A sudden smile, half bitter, came to the man's bewildered face. "You +wanted to kill Vile John," he said in English. "Why?" + +"Oh, I don't know--but I don't want to now. I'd wather bring the +peace." + +And then silently the rain had begun--not rain such as Christmas +usually brings in India, but the downpour as from a bucket which comes +at times after long drought; rain before which nothing can stand, +which seems to wash the world and the men in it from all things save a +desire for shelter. + +"God in heaven!" exclaimed the man, reverting to his own tongue. "We +shall be drowned if we stop here. Come, little rat! Let us find a spot +where we can keep dry." + +A difficult job even for this man--Viljeon, prince of veldt +roamers--to whom this country with its rapidly filling watercourses, +its wide stretches of flood-land, was almost familiar. Seen, indeed, +by the rapid shimmer of the lightning as he steered his way, the +instinct of a pioneer waking in him at every step, he could scarce +believe he was not mastering an African drift. + +And the child cuddled close to his breast, wrapped for shelter in his +coat? Who was this child which he held as if it had been his own--the +child with its travesty of wings, its travesty of a sword? + +Half bewildered as he was, the humour, the pathos of the strange +chance made his heart softer, and his eyes grew keener, not only for +himself but for his charge, as the danger increased minute by minute. + +At first, mixed with his desire for present shelter had been that of +future escape for himself. But by degrees the thought of the child +came uppermost. Safety for it lay on different lines from safety to a +strong man untrammelled; and the instinct of the veldtsman told him +that the former was on the higher ground near the cantonment--near the +prison he had left! + +So, through the incessant rain, he threaded his way wading waist-deep +at times, till on a rising bit of land the lightning showed him a +ruined mud hovel. It might serve for shelter and rest for the time: if +the flood rose to it he could but go on. + +It was a sort of cattle-shed he found; a rude trough of mud ran round +it, and in one corner was a pile of straw. He drew the driest of this +from beneath the leaking roof, and, placing it in the trough, laid the +still sleeping child upon it. It was better so than in his damp coat. +Then, creeping to the doorway, he sate down to think and watch--alone. + +Not quite so much alone, however, as the darkness of the night which +followed on the sudden cessation of rain led him to believe; for not +two hundred yards away, in another cattle-shed on this Government +grazing-ground, three other refugees were also awaiting the dawn. + +For Kunder, who had abandoned jewels in the search for gold curls, had +happened in the dark upon Hirabul Khan, who in his turn was +desperately seeking aid for a disabled man whose shouts for help he +had answered, unwitting who gave them. + +And if it _was_ the Colonel, explained Hirabul, half apologetically, +as they made their way back together to give the help--well! a man +might be disloyal over women--who were the devil--yea! even to a real +hero like the absent _sahib_, and yet not deserve to drown like a rat +in a drain; and as for the other question, _that_ stood over for +settlement. + +Whereupon Kunder had asked what treacherous woman had an absent hero, +and had thereupon fallen into jeers over Hirabul's mistake. Was he a +fool not to know it was the other _mem_ who lived in the house? As for +Boy's mother, was she not palpably a _pudmuni_, with no thought save +for husband and son? + +In consequence of which explanation a new and remorseful respect had +come to Hirabul's helping of the Colonel, so that when the latter was +at last in comparative safety in the cattle-shed, he, too, found food +for thought as he also sate waiting for daylight, hoping against hope +for Boy and Boy's mother. + +So the grey dawn found him dozing at the door. But he started to his +feet at an exclamation from Kunder, who was standing outside; and +then across a stretch of shallowing water he saw another ruined +cattle-shed, and at the doorway a tall, broad man, with a big brown +beard. + +"Viljeon!" he exclaimed under his breath. + +"To be shot at sight," mumbled Hirabul, but half awake, as he reached +round aimlessly for a rifle. + +"Fool!" cavilled Kunder, all unwitting of the revolver in Hirabul's +belt, "thou art not safe with things that kill, so 'tis well thou hast +none. See! he beckons to us. Let us go to him. The rain hath washed +evil from us all!" + +They helped the Colonel, who could scarce believe his senses, to +hobble across, while Viljeon stood guarding the door with a still, +stern look on his face. + +"You will find the Child lying in the manger," he said; "bring your +offerings--I have brought mine." + + + * * * * * + + +But only three wise men went down to cantonments that Christmas +morning, bringing the child with them; for Kunder, wiser perhaps, or +less wise, felt that his new virtue was better away from the proximity +of the jewels he had left tied up ready in a bundle; so, seizing his +opportunity, he slipped like a water-snake into the tangle of floods +and was seen no more. + + + * * * * * + + +"And after all," said Boy's mother, softly, "Christmas _did_ take care +of itself!" + +"Yes!" answered the Colonel, quietly. "We all brought our +offerings--gold and frankincense and myrrh." + + + + + SURABHI + + A FAMINE TALE + + +She was only a cow, but she was all things, wife and child, earth and +heaven, to old Gopal, the Brahmin who owned her. + +And, apart from his estimation, she had value. Connoisseurs in the +village, as they looked over the low mud wall which separated the slip +of open courtyard, ten feet by six, where there was just room for a +crazy four-legged string bed between Surabhi's manger and the door, +would nod and say she must have been a good cow when young; but when +that was only God knew! + +Whereupon Gopal would raise his shaven head with its faint frosting of +silver hair from Surabhi's silver flank, as he squatted holding a +brass _lotah_ in one hand, milking with the other, and smile +scornfully. + +"Old or young, she is the best milker in the village, and the best +looking one, and the best bred," he would say. "And wherefore not? Is +she not Surabhi the Great Milk-Mother, whom even the gods worship? +Since without her where would the little godlings be?" And then he +would pop down the _lotah_ and cease milking for a moment, so that +both hands might be free for a reverential _salaam_ to the old cow +who, at the cessation, would turn her mild white face--the real +Brahmini zebu face with its wide dewy black nostril, wide dewy black +eyes, and long lopping ears--to see what had come to old Gopi; and as +often as not, would give his round frosted black poll a lick round +with her black frosted tongue, by way of encouragement to go on, as if +he had been a calf! + +But the connoisseurs over the wall would snigger, and touch their +foreheads, and say that Gopal Das was getting quite childish and mixed +up things. Though, no doubt, the great Surabhi must have been just +such another cow, since the old man said right. There was not her like +in the village. No! not even now that Govinda had brought home the +brown cow with five teats, which had taken the prize at the _Huzoor's_ +big show. It was younger, of course, but Surabhi would outlast the old +man, and what more could _he_ want? Then who, before these latter +days, had ever heard tell of a brown cow? And as for the five teats, +they might portend more milk, but were they lawful? + +So long-limbed, whole-hearted, dull-headed, the villagers went +doubtfully about their business scarcely less confused than old Gopi +between facts and fancies, realities and unrealities; tied and bound, +as their like are in hamlet and village, by the allegories of a faith +whose inner teaching has been forgotten. + +But old Gopal stayed with Surabhi. His life was bounded by her. How he +lived was one of the many mysteries of Indian village life. He did +nothing but look after his cow, but he must have inherited some +fractional share of the village land from his fathers, or been +entitled, by reason of his race, to some ancestral dues, for twice a +year at harvest time he would come back to the courtyard, like a +squirrel to its nest, with so many handfuls of this grain and so many +handfuls of that, so many bundles of wheat straw, millet stalks, or +pea stems. And on these, and the milk she gave, he and Surabhi lived +contentedly. He was very old; if he had had wife and children in the +past he had quite forgotten them. Yet it was typical of village life +that no one forgot old Gopi or his rights. Whatever was due to him +from well or unwatered land, even if it were only so many leaves of +tobacco or chili pods, came to the courtyard as regularly as the +sunshine. + +And, regularly as the sunshine, too, the old man, after he had milked +Surabhi in the early dawn, would go with his solitary blanket and a +little spud, and spend the whole day till sunset in gathering +succulent weeds for the Great Milk-Mother's supper. It was his +religion. And under the broad blue sky, edging a plantigrade path over +the parched plain, leaving, like a locust, not a green leaf behind +him, old Gopi's mind would be full of confused piety and mystical +meanings. + +This was the highest service of man, this was Faith, and Hope, +and Charity all combined; since every one knew that Surabhi was the +World-Mother, and without her-- + +Here the old Brahmin's memory of words would fail him, and he would +fall back on deeds, by digging at the biggest weed within reach. + +From year's end to year's end he seldom fingered a coin, and if he +did, it was Surabhi who brought it to him. Her last calf had long +since become an ox, and drifted away from the village to fill a gap in +the great company of the ploughers and martyrs who give the coffer of +the Empire all its gold and die in thousands--long before famine +touches humanity--without a penny piece from that coffer being spent +to save them from starvation. Yet she still, after the fashion of her +race, gave milk and to spare. The latter went, as a rule, to folk +poorer still than the old Brahmin, especially to children; but when he +sold it, part of the money was always spent on a new charm for +Surabhi's neck. And it might be noted that whenever, by looking over +the old mud walls which separated the village courtyards one from the +other, he found that Govinda's brown cow had a fresh bell or +disposition of cowries round her neck, there was always enough milk +over and above Gopi's wants next day to procure a similar adornment +for the white one with its heavy dewlap. + +The rivalry grew, by degrees, into a definite challenge between their +owners, so that when, after a time, Govinda's beast fell off in her +milk, Gopi's delight was palpable, and he scouted all reasonable +explanations of the fact. + +The cow, he said, was underbred. You could see by her hoofs that she +had been accustomed to wander about and pick up her own living like +low-caste folk; while Surabhi bore token of her lifelong seclusion in +every polished ring of her long-pointed black toes. + +But before the question at issue could be decided, that came about +which dried up every cow in the village, and made even old Gopi's +brass _lotah_ cease to brim. + +There was no rain. Even in December and January, though the skies were +dappled as the partridge's breast, the clouds carried their moisture +elsewhere. Where, did not affect the villagers. It was not here, and +that was all they knew. The autumn crop, which means fodder, had been +a scant one, the cattle were thrown entirely on the still scantier +growth of grass in the waste land; and when that failed, custom did +not fail. The herds were driven forth from the thorn enclosures every +morning to the wilderness and taken back from it at eve, just as if +that wilderness were still a grazing-ground. What else could be done, +seeing that when cattle starve it is not a famine? _That_ is a time +when help is given by the new master. God knows why, since the old +masters never gave any. + +Such time of help must come, of course, ere long, if the clouds +remained dry; but meanwhile the flocks and herds went out to graze on +mud, and if some failed to return in the evening, what else was to be +expected? + +So the long dry days dragged on. That spring-harvest old Gopal's share +of garnered grain was scarcely worth the bringing home. The squirrel's +hoard in the little courtyard was scanty indeed, and very soon he had +to stint his own share, and rise an hour earlier to go weed-grubbing, +and return an hour later, so that Surabhi should not low her +discontent at short commons. For that would be shame unutterable, even +though the brown cow had long since been driven from high-class +seclusion to fend for herself with the common herd from dawn to eve. + +Thus old Gopal's lank anatomy was appreciably more lank, more +skeleton-like, when one day the headman of the village, as he smoked +his pipe in front of the house of faith where strangers were lodged, +announced that the famine had really come at last. Over in Chotia +Aluwala there were piles of baskets and spades. Some _Huzoors_ were +there in white tents, so doubtless ere long, God knows why, they would +begin digging earth from one place and putting it in another, so that +a distribution of grain could be made in the evening. + +That was the headman's idea of relief-works, and his hearers had no +other. + +Now, Chotia Aluwala was ten miles at least from Surabhi's stall, but +of late Gopi had scarce found a weed within twice that distance. + +So the very next day, when, backed by a pile of forlorn-looking earth +on one side and a not much smaller pile of baskets with which the +earth had, during the day's toil been conveyed to its present +resting-place, one hungry face after another came up in file to the +distribution of food, old Gopi's frosted head was among the number. +But he was bitterly disappointed at his dole of cooked dough-cake. He +had expected grain. Though more than enough for his old appetite, what +would Surabhi, with her seven stomachs, say to such concentrated food? + +After his long trudge home he passed a miserable night seeking, by +every means in his power, to supply the bulk necessary for the +satisfying of those clamorous stomachs. He even chopped up the grass +twine of his string bed and tempted the old cow to chew it by soaking +the fibre in some of her own milk. + +Thus, once more, he came off second best, for the milk should have +been his share. So he could scarcely manage to stagger along with his +basket next day. Not that this mattered, for already the Englishmen, +who, in their khaki clothes and huge pith helmets were supervising the +work, were saying tentatively, with a glance at the totterers, that it +might have been better to start relief a little sooner. And down in +one hollow Gopi saw a woman being carried away, while the babe which +had been at her breast yelled feebly in an orderly's arms. + +The sight did not affect Gopi in the least. He had thought out a plan +which filled his confused old soul with a heavenly joy. So when his +two dough-cakes were given him that evening he hurried off with them +to the contractor in the background, through whom the _Huzoors_ +had arranged for this supply, and exchanged them--at a loss, +inevitably--for the coarse husks, the bran, the sweepings, the +absolute waste which could not be used even in famine bread. + +The arrangement suited both parties, the contractor and old Gopi, who +day after day trudged home, hungry, with a bulky bundle of fodder for +Surabhi. It was a fair exchange all round; even with the old cow, who +turned the fodder into milk. Not much, it is true, since the bundle +was not over-large, but enough to keep Gopi's soul and body together. + +And the soul grew if the body wasted. How could it be otherwise, when +one was permitted to be the babe and suckling, as it were, of the +Great Milk-Mother? The Great World-Mother, whose sacred work it was to +nourish all things, even the little godlings? + +The old Brahmin's eyes grew softer, more trustful, more like the eyes +of a child, as the days went by; and as he milked her, Surabhi's black +frothed tongue often licked more than his shaven poll, as if she were +concerned at the bones which showed through the skin of her calf. + +Gopal himself, however, took this licking as a mark of Divine favour; +and, as for the thinness, were not all the babes and sucklings growing +thin? + +That was true. The Englishman in head charge of the Chotia Aluwala +relief-work canal had that thinness on his conscience. But what could +man do in a wilderness, without mothers, without milk? + +He had it on his heart too, because he was a father; and because, +despite a mother and milk, doctors and dosing galore, it was not two +months since he had seen his first-born waste away mysteriously to +death, as children will waste. + +So his mind was full of it, when, for the sake of seeing a lonely wife +and mother, he rode forty miles after nightfall to the little bungalow +so empty of a child's voice. + +"I've got quite a nursery of 'em now," he said grimly, "but they beat +me. I can't get the men in charge to mix that tin-milk stuff right, +you know, and the little beggars won't look at a teaspoon." + +Perhaps it was his ride that had tired him. Anyhow, he crossed his +hands on the table, and laid his head on them wearily. + +He roused, however, at her touch on his shoulder. + +"Let me come," she said; "I've--I've nothing to do here." + +He looked at her for a moment, then turned his eyes away. "Will you?" +he said in an odd voice; "that--that will be awfully jolly." + +So in a day or two, armed with the dead baby's bottles, feeding-cups, +God knows what, and such mother's lore as the dead child had taught +her, she was at work in a white tent set in the shade of the only tree +at Chotia Aluwala. + +"I must have more milk," she said decidedly, and there was a new light +in her eyes, a new tone in her voice, when they brought her yet +another whimpering black baby. "That is the end of it; by hook or by +crook I _must_ have more milk. There _must_ be some, somewhere. Send +out and see!" + +So, because when a woman is standing between death and children, her +orders are the orders of "She-who-must-be-obeyed," they sent. And, of +course, one of the first discoveries made by the native underling to +whom the inquiry was entrusted, was Surabhi. In other words, that an +old Brahmin, in receipt actually of relief, was the possessor of a +remarkably fine cow, if not in full milk, yet capable of supporting an +infant or two. It needs the vicious _flair_ of an underpaid +_chuprassi_ to find such chances for tyranny and extortion at the +first throw off. But this one was found, and when Gopi returned that +evening to the little courtyard, an official with a brass _lotah_ was +waiting for milk. It would be paid for, of course, by-and-by. Gopi +could keep an account, and the _Sirkar_ no doubt would pay, provided +the _proper official_ certified it by a countersign. + +The old man was too confused, too tired to be ready with protest at a +moment's notice. So that night he went supperless to bed. But in the +white tent over at Chotia Aluwala, an Englishwoman's pale face had +quite a colour in it. + +"Fancy!" she said, "two whole quarts of the most beautiful, rich milk! +I would reward that man if I were you, hubby. I am to have the same +every day. It--it means four lives at least!" + +Possibly, for a baby takes less to keep it alive than an old man. + +Small tragedies of this sort are common enough in India, but it is +difficult to give all their fineness of detail to English eyes. + +Old Gopal was at once cunning as a fox, guileless as a child; and +through both the guile and the innocence ran that bewildered belief in +Surabhi as something beyond ordinary cows. He tried to escape the +_impasse_ by not milking her dry, so as to leave some for himself; but +though Surabhi resented any other hand finishing the task, it was +impossible for an experienced onlooker to be deceived. The result of +that, therefore, was abuse and blows. Then he tried keeping back one +dough-cake from his daily dole for himself, and only exchanging the +other for fodder. That reduced the milk in reality, but it also +reduced Surabhi to lowing; and his sense of sin, in consequence, +became so acute that he was forced into going back to the old plan. +But these tactics had, by this time, roused the petty official's ire. +The _mem sahiba_ had spoken sharply to him because the milk had fallen +off in quantity and quality; for he had not scrupled, despite old +Gopi's tears and distracted prayers, to take away the Milk-Mother's +character by filling up the measure with water. + +And so he lost patience. Thus one day he avenged himself and attained +his object by first reporting that Gopi, Brahmin, was wrongfully and +fraudulently obtaining relief, seeing that he was, amongst other +things, possessor of a remarkably fine cow, whose milk he was selling +to the _Huzoors_, and then seizing Surabhi, on the ground that Gopi, +having no means of supporting her, was not fit to take care of so +valuable an animal! + +These two blows, followed by the sight of Surabhi being walked off on +her dainty toes into the rough outside world, quite upset the frail +balance of the old man's mind. + +He crouched shivering all night in the empty stall, feeling himself +accursed. He was not worthy. Surabhi had gone. + +How long he remained there speechless, famine-stricken, yet not +hungry, he did not know. It was early afternoon when the white garment +and brass badge of authority showed again at the door in the low wall, +and a voice said sullenly-- + +"Thou must come. Thy cursed cow is a devil for kicking, and the _mem_ +is a fiend for temper. My badge is gone if thou come not. My pony will +carry two." + +The sun was showing red behind the great piles of earth which in that +wide level plain rose like a range of hills, when the oddly assorted +pair rode into the shade of the Chotia Aluwala tree. There was no need +to announce the arrivals. Surabhi declared who one was, almost ere he +stumbled to the ground, stiff, dazed, bewildered. All the more +bewildered for that vision of something undreamt of, unseen hitherto +in Gopal Das' ignorant village life--a woman fair as milk herself, +smiling at him gladly, calling with quaint, strange accent: +"Quick--quick! we wait, we are hungry--are we not, babies?" + +There were dark toddlers round the white dress, a dark head on the +white bosom, and old Gopi muttered something about the Milk-Mother, +the World-Mother, as, with a brass vessel some one thrust into his +hand, he squatted down beside Surabhi. + +He scarcely needed to milk her; perhaps that was as well, for he was +very tired. But the _lotah_ brimmed, and another had to be called for, +while Surabhi's black frosted tongue licked the black frosted head +between her "_moos_" of satisfaction. + +And beyond, in the shadiest part of the shade, there was more +satisfaction and to spare. + +After a while old Gopi crept stiffly to watch it, squatting in the +dust with dry, bright, wistful eyes fixed on the bottles, the babies; +above all on the milk-white face full of smiles. + +Until suddenly he gave a little cry. + +"Me too, Mother of mercy! Great Milk-Mother of the world, me too!" he +said, like any child, and so fell forward insensible with +outstretched, petitioning hands. + +But that was the end of his troubles. + +When he came to himself, the Great Milk-Mother was feeding him with a +teaspoon. Nor when he recovered his strength would she let him out of +the nursery, for by that time the whole story had been told, with the +curious calm acquiescence of villagers in such pitiful tales of +mistake and wrong. Every one had known the truth, of course, but what +then? The _Huzoors_ wanted the milk for the babies, and Gopi was old-- + +"He is only a baby himself," interrupted a woman's voice indignantly +when this explanation was being given; "why, this morning I made him +as happy as a king by letting him suck one of the bottles! He said +that there was nothing left now to be desired, nothing wanting, +except--" + +"Except what?" asked the man's voice. + +"That he could see no little godlings like--like me." + +Then there was silence. + + + + + ON THE OLD SALT ROAD + + +After the discussion on a certain story told by the grey man had +reached dissolution point from sheer want of coherence, I observed +that the Major--though still standing in his usual place by the +fire--was looking into the embers instead of warming his coat-tails at +them. This fact, and the expression of his face, convinced me that he +had forgotten the present in some past experience. + +"The Major remembers a story," I remarked aloud. He looked up with a +smile. + +"I must have a very transparent face," he said, "but it is quite true. +I have been wondering if I ought not to tell you something that +happened to some one--to me, in fact--a great many years ago. It seems +to me that I ought. You see most of you are inclined to scoff at the +story we have just heard; unwilling to allow anything but a rational +explanation of the mysterious summons. I am not, simply because I +happen to have had certain experiences which most of you have not had. +The question therefore arises as to whether I am not bound to give my +evidence, and so, perhaps, prevent you from forming a hasty judgment?" + +He looked inquiringly round the room, but no one spoke. We were so +much accustomed to accept the Major's decisions as, above all things, +equitable, that we were content to let him arrive at one unbiassed by +our views. During the pause which followed, I found myself thinking +that weight for weight, inches for inches, brains for brains, I knew +no man who had made a better use of life than our Major. Not over +clever, certainly not handsome, handicapped heavily by having to start +at scratch in worldly matters, he had a distinct personality of his +own which influenced every society he entered. You felt somehow that +your estimate of that society rose from his presence, and that he +brought an element of sound, healthy strength of heart and mind into +the _melee_ which you would not willingly spare from the struggle for +existence. It came to this. Had he not been there the world would have +been the worse for his absence; high praise, indeed, for any man. + +"Yes!" continued the Major, after a pause, "I'll have to tell my tale +like the Ancient Mariner; and if in so doing I bore you with a few +uninteresting confidences about myself, I can't help it. You shall +have as little of them as possible." + +He was so long settling himself in a chair, pulling up his trousers in +his careful, economical way, and poking the fire, that our attention +had begun to waver, when his opening words startled us into renewed +curiosity. + +"I don't suppose," he began, "that any of you know I am a widower; but +I am. My wife died a year after our marriage; and the child too--a +girl. If you search the whole wide world through you won't find a more +desolate creature than a boy of two-and-twenty coming back alone in a +strange country from the grave of his wife and child. Perhaps, as +Rudyard Kipling says, he has no business to have a wife and child. +Anyhow he feels a mistake somewhere in the universe when he tries to +behave like a man in the little drawing-room she made so pretty. The +twopenny-halfpenny fans put up to hide the bare walls--the little +dodges to make the sticks of furniture look nice which seemed to you +so clever, and over which you have both laughed so often--the unused +basket thing done up with lace and frills over which she was so happy +that last evening, while you sate by wondering if it could be true, +and that your child would lie amongst the dainty furbelows. Well! I +suppose it has to be sometimes, but it drove me mad. I was like the +boy in another of Kipling's tales, and could think of nothing but +death to end it all; just to creep away and die by myself somewhere. I +did not want so much to be dead, but to be quite alone--by myself. You +see I had lost everything--for ever--and the rest of the stupid world +drove me wild with impatience. + +"So I went out on leave to the old Salt Road, which ran right across +the loneliest part of the district. Perhaps some of you don't know +what a Salt Road is? Simply the Customs line which in old days used to +be patrolled day and night in order to prevent smuggling. The cactus +hedge had been cut down when the protection system was given up, but +the road behind it was still passable, and the patrol houses, more or +less dilapidated, stood at intervals of ten or twelve miles. I had +seen some of them when out on shooting expeditions, and the +remembrance of their desolation came back on me now with a new sort of +fascination. + +"After I settled to go I used to lie awake wondering which of them +would be the place. Not the first. That was within hail of other +people and help; besides, I could not so soon get rid of the servant +whom I had to take with me in order to avoid suspicion. My plan was to +send the man on early with orders to do two stages, and have +everything ready for me at night in bungalow Number Three; then I +should have all the day to myself. Would it be bungalow Number Two, at +noon, I wondered? As there were five patrol houses in all, it would +most likely be Two or Four; but if I liked any of the others better I +could easily find some excuse for getting rid of the servant. + +"This may seem unnatural, but I was really quite mad with a sort of +rage and spite against everything and everybody; so utterly absorbed +in myself that I felt as if I were taking a revenge on life by +quitting it. My own pain being the axis of the universe, the world +must surely be the loser by its removal. In fact, my mental position +at this time might be fairly represented by that of a man quitting a +pleasant society because some one has been rude to him. I had no hopes +of bettering my condition; I simply wanted to show my resentment. + +"I don't believe I ever slept sounder in my life than on the first +night after leaving cantonments. Perhaps it was the change; but I +remember being disappointed and disgusted with myself when I woke to +find broad daylight streaming in through the broken windows of Number +One. My servant, according to his orders, had started at dawn, for the +weather was still hot enough to make early marching necessary. He had, +however, left me a bottle of cold tea and some provisions, which I ate +with appetite. And now comes a curious thing. Though I had quite made +up my mind to face death, and all the dangers it might bring, I +positively hesitated about starting for a ten-mile walk in the sun +from fear of heat apoplexy. It was very unreasonable, but it shows the +force of habit. After I had decided on remaining where I was till the +evening, I walked round the tumble-down mud building, wondering if it +would do for the final tableau. It did not please me, so I lay down +and slept, feeling that I ought really to have remained awake and +brooded over my grief. But an unconquerable drowsiness was upon me, +making me sleep like a child. How well I remember the ten-mile walk to +the next bungalow! The afternoon shadows lengthened across the +half-effaced road as I tramped along in solitary silence. I had +nothing with me save my revolver and a small writing-case with which +to inscribe my last words of defiance. My thoughts were full of what +these should be, for I had now quite made up my mind that bungalow +Number Two was to be the place, and that a very short time would rid +me of all my foes. I felt distinctly easier than I had done before, +and being, as it were, wound up to tragedy pitch, the cheerful +appearance of Number Two as I came up to it in the sunset disappointed +me. In cutting down the thorn and cactus hedge they had, as usual, +left the _kikar_ bushes, and these had grown into trees, forming an +avenue, while a few more shaded the house itself. This was also far +less dilapidated than Number One; not only were the doors and windows +intact, but at a few of them still hung the usual reed blinds or +_chicks_. As I wandered round the house before entering it, I noticed +what one might call the graves of a garden. Broken mounds of earth +giving a reminiscence of walks and beds, with here and there a globe +amaranth doing chief mourner. Evidently bungalow Number Two had been +the permanent residence of a patrol. It annoyed me to find myself +wondering if he had had a wife and child, so I hastily entered the +centre room, determined to put an end to all useless sympathies +without delay. To my surprise it contained a few half-broken sticks of +furniture; but telling myself that it would make my last task easier I +laid my revolver on the table and, taking out my case, sat down to +write. Again I felt curiously drowsy; more than once I rested my head +on my hands and rubbed my eyes in the endeavour to collect my +thoughts. + +"A sudden increase of light in the room, visible even through my +shading fingers, made me look up. The _chick_ was turned aside, and +holding it back with one chubby hand stood a little child about three +years old. I think, without exception, the loveliest little girl I +ever saw. Great mischievous brown eyes, and fluffy curls of that pale +gold which turns black in after years. She raised her hand from the +door-jamb, and placed her finger to her lips, brimming over with +laughter. + +"'_Hush!! Ma-ma's a-teep. Dot's 'un away_.' + +"Such a ripple of a voice, musical with happiness. I was always fond of +children, and this one was of the sort any man would notice--perhaps +covet. I laid down my pen, forgetful of interruption. + +"'Dot has run away, has she? That's very naughty of Dot, isn't it? But +as she has run away she had better come in here. You are not afraid of +me, are you?' + +"She was already in the room; then I noticed for the first time that +she was in her nightgown--a straight white thing like they put the +angels into, and her small bare feet made no noise on the floor. + +"'Dot's not af'aid. Dot's never af'aid. Dot's a b'aave girl. Dada says +so.' + +"She spoke more to herself than to me, and the words were evidently a +formula well known and often repeated. + +"'Who is Dada?' I asked, feeling the first curiosity that had had +power to touch me for many days. + +"Dot had raised herself to the level of the table with her tiny hands, +and now stood on tiptoe opposite me. Her fair curls framed her face, +as her laughing brown eyes fixed themselves on my revolver. + +"'Dada's?' she said coaxingly. 'Dot wants to make a _puff-puff-boom!_' + +"The childish words evoked a quick horror, why, I cannot tell; but a +sudden vision of myself as I should be in that lonely room after the +dull report rose up and blinded me. Somehow the coaxing babyish phrase +filled me with an awful revulsion of feeling. My head sank into my +hands; when I raised it the child had gone. + +"I went into the verandah uncertain what to do. The room next mine had +a _chick_ also, so that I could not see in from the outside, but from +within came a low crooning song like a lullaby. Every now and again +little bursts of a child's voice. Dot, no doubt, recaptured and +soothed to sleep. It was evident that the bungalow was occupied by +others beside myself, for in the gathering dusk I thought I saw some +white forms flitting about the servants' quarters. I wondered faintly +at the latter, for I had a half recollection of noticing that the huts +were entirely in ruins. My mind, however, had now reverted to its +original purpose with increased strength, and I returned to the room +considering what had best be done. The child's words, '_Dot's not +af'aid! Dot wants to make a puff-puff-boom_,' would not keep out of +my head. After all, was it not only another way of phrasing my own +desire? I was not afraid. Not afraid of what? Amid these questionings +one thing was certain. It could not be bungalow Number Two-- I would +not frighten the child Ah, no! I could not frighten Dot for ever with +the awful _puff-puff-boom_ I had set myself to make. + +"It must therefore be Number Four, so I packed up my writing things +and set off to rejoin my servant at Number Three. How childish we are! +As I trudged along I caught myself smiling more than once over the +recollection of Dot's mischievous face at the door. My servant was +patiently awaiting my arrival beside the dinner he had cooked for me. +Supposing I had not turned up--according to my original plan--he would +have waited calmly all night long, keeping his '_clear soup, chikhun +cutlet, custel pudden_' hot for a dead man. I must have been less mad, +for the humour of the idea struck me at the time, and I laughed. He +gravely asked why I had not brought on my pillow and sheets, and I +laughed again as I told him I meant to do without them in the future. +Everything was clear now. Fate had settled on Number Four, so there +was nothing to worry or hustle about. I bade him call me early, +determined this time to have all the day to myself. Then I fell asleep +to dream the night long of Dot and the revolver. Indeed my thoughts +were so full of her, that even when I woke I fancied, more than once, +that I heard her voice in the verandah, though I knew it could only be +a trick of fancy, for the bungalow was a perfect wreck, and even the +room I occupied had but half a roof. + +"It must have been about eleven o'clock ere I reached Number Four, +which stood off the road a little and was much smaller than any of the +other bungalows. Indeed it consisted of but two rooms opening the one +into the other. It looked the very picture of desolation, planted +square in the open with a single _kikar_ tree struggling for life in +one corner of the enclosure. Yet it was the best preserved of all the +patrol-houses; perhaps because of its smaller size and greater +compactness. Anyhow it needed little to fit it for habitation, and as +I found out afterwards it was constantly used by the civil officers +when on their tours of inspection. At the time, however, I was +surprised to find signs of recent occupation about it in the shape of +earthen pots and half-burnt sticks in a mud fireplace. Going into the +outer room I found it contained, like Number Two, a few bits of +furniture, and feeling weary I sat down by the table without looking +into the other room, only a portion of which was visible through the +half-closed door. + +"Once more I laid my revolver beside me, and took out my writing +materials. I had just begun my task when a deadly disgust at the whole +business came over me, and I resolved to end everything without +further delay. My hand sought the revolver, and fingered it +mechanically to see if it were loaded. A sense of strangeness made me +look at it, when, to my intense surprise, I found it was not my own +weapon. This was an old-fashioned heavy revolver, and one of the +chambers had evidently been recently fired. As I laid it down, +astonished beyond measure, I saw my own on the table beside it! + +"Whose then was the other? Did it belong to some one else in the +bungalow? Was I once more to be disturbed? I rose instinctively and +pushed open the door leading into the inner room. To my still greater +surprise I found it littered with half-open boxes and various things +lying about in great confusion. A few common toys were on the floor; +on the bare string bed a bundle of bedding; on the table a heap of +towels, and a basin of water ominously tinged with red. The fireplace +was on the other side of the room beyond the table, and crouched +beside it on the floor was a woman closely huddled up in a common grey +shawl. She held something under its folds on her knee; something that +drew breath in long gasping sighs, with a fatal pause between them. + +"'I beg your pardon,' I stammered, intending to retire. Just then the +woman looking up, showed me a young face, so wild with grief and +terror that I paused irresolute. + +"' Will no one come!' she wailed, seeming to look past me with eyes +blind with grief. 'O God--dear God! will no one ever come?' Then, as +her face fell again over the burden on her lap, she moaned like an +animal in mortal agony. But above the moan I could still hear that +curious gasping sigh. 'Can I not help?' I asked. She gave no reply, so +I went up and stood beside her. Still she seemed unconscious of my +presence, for once more came the wail. 'Will nobody come? O my God! +will nobody come to help?' 'I have come,' I answered, touching her on +the arm. She looked at me then, and a curious thrill made me feel +quite dizzy for a moment. Perhaps that was the reason why both face +and voice seemed to me changed and altered. Her eyes met mine +doubtfully. + +"'You did not come before,' she said. 'No one ever came--no one, no +one.' + +"As I removed my hand she bent once more over her burden with the same +piteous moan. + +"Evidently she was stupefied by horror and suspense, so I gently +raised her shawl to see what was the matter. + +"Great heavens! What a sight! After all these years I seem to see it +now. Fair silky curls dabbled in blood that welled up from under the +handkerchief which the woman held convulsively to the little white +breast. One chubby hand thrown out stiff and clenched; great brown +eyes glazed and dim; grey lips where each gasping sigh sent a tinge of +red. + +"'Dot!' I exclaimed, dropping on my knees the better to assure myself +of the awful truth. + +"The familiar name seemed to rouse the wavering life. + +"'_Dots not af'aid. Dot--only--wanted to make--a puff-puff-boom_.' + +"The words seemed to float in the air. I heard them as in a dream; and +as in a dream also came an insight into what had happened. Dada's +revolver within reach of those tiny hands. O Dot! poor little brave +Dot! I felt helpless before the awful tragedy. Once I tried to take +the child, but the woman resisted silently, nor could I get her to +listen to my entreaties that she should at least move to an easier +position. At last, seeing I could do nothing, and acknowledging +sorrowfully that nothing I could do was likely to be of any avail, I +contented myself with waiting beside her in silence, until the end. +And as I waited a coherent story grew out of what I knew, and what I +guessed. They had come on early that morning, the father on his way +further afield, the mother and child to remain in the little bungalow +till his return. Then all in a minute the accident; and then the only +servant had been sent forth wildly for help whilst the wretched woman +waited alone. Yes! that must have been it. So clear, so simple, so +awful in its very simplicity. + +"There was not a sound in the house save at intervals the woman's +moan. 'Will no one ever come! O God; will no one ever come!' and +always distinct above it the child's gasping sigh with a soft rattle +in it. + +"How long this lasted I cannot say. It was like some hideous +nightmare, until suddenly the sighing ceased, and I became conscious +of an immeasurable relief. Yet I knew the silence meant death. + +"The woman did not move or notice me in any way, so once more I +touched her on the arm. + +"'There is no need to watch longer,' I said; 'Dot is asleep at last. +It is your turn to rest. Give me the child, and believe me there is +nothing to be done now.' + +"As before, she raised her face to mine, and the same thrill came over +me as I recognised an unmistakable change in features and voice; a +deadening of expression, a hardening of the tone into a certain +fretfulness. + +"'But there is a great deal to be done,' she replied rapidly. 'Oh! so +much. How can you know? We must dig the grave under the _kikar_ tree +and bury her in the sand--for it is sand below, and it creeps and +creeps into the grave and will not leave room for Dot. And the night +must fall--oh, so dark!--before her father gets home. There will +hardly be time to dig the little grave before sunrise; and it must be +dug--you know it must--' + +"Her words seemed to me wild and distraught. To soothe her I repeated +that there was plenty of time. + +"She frowned, closed her eyes with one hand, and again replied in a +curiously rapid, even tone. + +"'No! no! there never has been time. It is always a hurry. Out in the +dark digging the grave, and the sand slipping, slipping, slipping till +there is no room. I have done it,--oh! so many times.' + +"I was puzzled what to do or say. The wisest course seemed to leave +her to herself until help arrived. So after one or two ineffectual +attempts at consolation I went outside in despair to see if the +assistance so sorely needed was not in sight. Surely it could not be +delayed much longer. I was surprised to find how late it was: noon had +long passed, and cool shadows were stretching themselves athwart the +parched ground. One, darker and cooler than the rest, lay eastward of +the solitary _kikar_ tree. Here it was that the little grave was to be +dug if the mother's wish were fulfilled. Quite mechanically I strolled +to the spot, impelled by sad curiosity. + +"As I approached, the fragments of a low railing, half standing, half +lying, in a small oblong, made me wonder if the enclosure had already +been a resting-place. That might account for the mother's wish. Yes! +there was a grave; a tiny grave no bigger than little Dot's would be, +with a roughly-hewn cross as a headstone. + +"I bent to read the inscription:-- + + + HERE LIES + + Our Little Darling Dot. + + 1840. + + +"Dot! I stood up with heart and brain in a whirl. Dot! 1840. +Five-and-twenty years ago, and Dot had died but half-an-hour before. +What did it mean? _What did it mean?_ + +"A sudden fear of the solitude and silence of the place fell upon me. +But for shame I would have turned tail on it then and there. As it +was, scorn of my own suspicions made me return to the house. How still +it was! how desolate. I remember standing at the outer door listening +in vain for some sound within; I remember seeing my revolver and +writing-case on the table in the outer room; I remember nerving myself +to push open the inner door, but I remember no more. + + + * * * * * + + +"They told me in hospital that I must have tripped over the broken +flooring between the two rooms, and in falling have cut my head +against the lintel. + +"Perhaps I did. Perhaps I didn't. I only know that something--God +knows what--stood between me and my madness, so that when I came to +myself it was gone for ever. In its place had grown up a craving to +live--to hear, to see, to know, to understand. + +"As I got better I used to lie and cry like a woman. Then the other +fellows would say it was all weakness, and that I must be a man and +bear up. And sometimes I would lie and smile. Then they said I was a +trump with more pluck than they had. And as often as not I wasn't +thinking of myself or my own troubles at all, but of brave little Dot +and her desire for a _puff-puff-boom_. + +"They sent me down the Indus to Bombay, so as to avoid the rattle of +the train, for my head was still weak. We stuck on a sandbank at +Sukkhur, being made unmanageable by two flats we were towing. They +were laden mostly with cargo, but carried a good many third-class +passengers. I don't know why I had risen from my sick-bed full of a +great curiosity, but I had. Somehow I never seemed to have looked at +life before, whereas now everything interested me. So I went down to +the flats and talked to the people. There was a cabin on one, carrying +a few second-class passengers, and as I was walking along a gangway +between some bales I saw an Englishwoman, holding a child on her lap. +The crouching attitude struck me as familiar; I stopped and spoke +about the weather or something. She looked up, and then I knew where I +had seen that attitude, for it was Dot's mother. I don't think I +should have recognised her--for she was an old woman with grey +hair--but for the remembrance of the changed look which, as you may +recollect, she had when I roused her in the bungalow by touching her +arm. + +"'Is that your child?' I asked courteously, for, poorly dressed as she +was, her face was unmistakably refined. + +"'No!' she replied; and I recognised the somewhat querulous voice. +'It's my granddaughter, but I am as fond of her as if she were my +own--almost.' + +"As she spoke she shifted the child's head higher up on her arm, and I +saw a mass of fluffy light gold curls. + +"'Perhaps she reminds you of your own,' I continued at a venture, +anxious only to make her talk. + +"A faint curiosity came to her worn face. + +"'It's funny you should say so--just as if you had seen our Dot. So +like--so wonderfully like. Sometimes it seems as if she had come back +again, yet it is five-and-twenty years since I lost her.' + +"'That is a long time.' + +"'A long, long time to remember, isn't it? And I've had so many and +lost so many. But I never forgot Dot--she was so pretty! Ah, well! I +daresay it would have been against her, poor lamb. "Favour is +deceitful and beauty is vain."' + +"She lulled the child on her lap to deeper slumber with a gentle +rocking. It seemed to me as if she were soothing regret to sleep also. + +"'She had curls like this one?' I remarked, cruelly anxious to keep +her to the subject. + +"Once more she looked at me with that oddly familiar bewilderment. + +"'I can't think where I've seen you before,' she said after a pause. +'I never met you in those old days, did I? Ah, well! I've lived so +long and travelled so far that I can't remember it all. Sometimes I +seem to forget everything except what I see--and Dot. I never forget +her. Only last month I was coming down the river not far from the +place where the little dear shot herself--she was playing with her +father's revolver, you know--and I seemed to go through it all again. +Her father--he left the Salt soon after--was downright vexed with me +because I fretted so. He said no good could come of remembering grief +so long. But I don't know. I've heard it said that there is only so +much sorrow and happiness in the world; then if one person gets a lot +there must be less trouble left for others. I've held on to my share +anyhow, though maybe, as father says, it isn't any good.' + +"Her tired eyes sought the distant sandhills wistfully and her mouth +trembled a little. + +"Just then the whistle sounded, bidding all stragglers go on board the +steamer. + +"'Good-by,' said I, holding out my hand. 'To-morrow, if I may, I will +come again and tell you what your unforgotten grief did for me.' + +"But next morning I found that the flat had been left at its +destination during the night. That is all." + +There was a long pause. + +"And your explanation?" asked a somewhat tremulous voice from a dark +corner. + +"Gentlemen," said the Major, "I have none to offer. What I know is +this. Somehow--God knows how--I saw that mother's unforgotten grief, +and it saved me from shirking my share." + + + + + THE DOLL-MAKER + + +"Christmas Eve!" echoed Mrs. Langford. "Yes! I suppose it is; but I +had forgotten--there isn't much to remind one of it in India--is +there?" + +As she paused half-way up the verandah steps she glanced back at the +creeper-hung porch where the high spider-cart, in which she had come +home from the club, waited for its owner to return to the box-seat. He +seemed in no hurry to do so, and his glance followed hers as he stood +on the step below her. He was a tall man, so his face was on a level +with hers, and the two showed young, handsome--hers a trifle pale, his +a trifle red. + +There was a stretch of garden visible beyond the creepers. It was not +flowerful, since Christmas, even in India, comes when the tide of sap, +the flow of life, is at its lowest; yet, in the growing dusk, the +great scarlet hands of the poinsettias could be seen thrusting +themselves out wickedly from the leafy shadows as if to clutch the +faint white stars of the oleanders blossoming above them; and there +was a bunch of Marechal Niel roses in the silver belt of the woman's +white tennis dress, which told of sweeter, more home-like blossom. + +"And it is just as well," she continued, with a bitter little laugh, +"that there isn't, for it's a deadly, dreary time--" + +"All times are dreary," assented the tall man in a low voice, rapidly, +passionately, "when there is no one who cares--" + +"There is my husband," she interrupted, this time with a nervous +laugh. The answer fitted doubly, for she turned to a figure which at +that moment came out of the soft rose-tinted light of the room within, +and said in a faintly fretful tone, "You don't mean to say, George, +surely, that you've been working till now?" + +"Working!" echoed George Langford, absently. "Yes! why not? Ah! is +that you, Campbell? Brought the missus home, like a good chap. Sorry I +couldn't come, my dear; but there was a beastly report overdue, so now +I've only time for a spin on the bicycle before dinner, for I must +have some exercise. By the way, Laura, you'd better send off your home +letter without mine. I really haven't had time to write to the boys +this mail." + +He was busy now, in the same absent, preoccupied, yet energetic way, +in seeing to the machine, which a red-coated servant held for him; but +he looked up quickly at his wife's reply-- + +"I haven't written either." + +"Haven't you? That's a pity," he began, then paused, with a vaguely +unquiet look at her and her tall companion, which merged, however, +into a good-natured smile. "Well, they won't know it was Christmas +mail anyhow. 'Pon my soul I'd forgotten it myself, Campbell, or I'd +have made a point.... But there's the devil of a crush of work just +now, though I shall clear some of the arrears off to-morrow. That's +about the only good of a holiday to me!" He was off as he spoke--a +shadow gliding into the shadows, where the red hands of the +poinsettias and the white stars of the oleanders showed fainter as the +dusk deepened. + +But he left a pair of covetous, entreating hands and a white face +behind him in the verandah, between the rosy light of comfort from +within and the grey gloom of the world without. + +"It cannot go on--this sort of thing--for ever," said the man, still +in that low, passionate voice. "It will kill--" + +"Kill him? Do you think so?" she interrupted, still with that little +half-nervous, half-bitter laugh. "I don't; he's awfully strong and +awfully clever, you know." + +The owner of the dogcart turned to it impatiently. + +"You will come to-morrow at eleven, anyhow," he said, bringing the +patience back to his voice with an effort, for it seemed to him--as it +so often seems to a man--that the woman did not know what she would be +at. "It will be a jolly drive; and, as they are sending out a +mess-tent, we need not come back till late. Your husband said he was +to be busy all day." + +He waited, reins in hand, for an answer. It came after a pause; came +decidedly. + +"Yes; at eleven, please. It will be better anyhow than stopping here. +There isn't even tennis on Christmas Day, you know; and the house +is--is so deadly quiet." She turned to it slowly as she spoke, passed +into the rose light, and stood listening to the sound of the dogcart +wheels growing fainter and fainter. When it had gone an intense +stillness seemed to settle over the wide, empty house--that stillness +and emptiness which must perforce settle round many an Englishwoman in +India; the stillness and emptiness of a house where children have +been, and are not. + +It made her shiver slightly as she stood alone, thinking of the +dogcart wheels. + +Yet just at the back of the screen of poinsettias and oleanders which +hid the servants' quarters from the creeper-hung porch there were +children and to spare. Dozens of them, all ages, all sizes, belonging +to the posse of followers which hangs to the skirts of bureaucracy in +India. + +Here, as the lights of the dogcart flashed by, they lit up for an +instant a quaint little group gathered round a rushlight set on the +ground. It consisted of a very old man, almost naked, with a grey +frost of beard on his withered cheeks, and of a semicircle of +wide-eyed, solemn-faced, brown babies--toddlers of two and three, with +a sprinkling of demure little maidens of four and five. + +The centre of the group lay beside the rushlight. It was a rudimentary +attempt at a rag doll; so rudimentary indeed that as the passing flash +of the lamps disclosed its proportions, or rather the lack of them, a +titter rose from the darkness behind, where some older folk were +lounging. + +The old doll-maker, who was attempting to thread a big packing-needle +by the faint flicker, turned towards the sound in mild reproof: "Lo! +brothers and sisters," he said, "have patience awhile. Even the +Creator takes time to make His puppets, and this of mine will be as +dolls are always when it is done. And a doll is a doll ever, nothing +more, nothing less." + +"Yet thou art sadly behind the world in them, _babajee_," put in a +pale young man, with a pen-box under his arm, who had paused on his +way to the cook-room, whither he was going to write up the daily +account for the butler; since a man must live even if he has a +University degree, and, if Government service be not forthcoming, must +earn a penny or two as best he can. "That sort of image did for the +dark ages of ignorance, but now the mind must have more reality; glass +eyes and such like. The world changes." + +The old man's face took an almost cunning expression by reason of its +self-complacent wisdom. "But not the puppets which play in it, my son. +The Final One makes _them_ in the same mould ever; as I do my dolls, +as my fathers made theirs. Ay! and thine too, _babajee!_ As for eyes, +they come with the sight that sees them, since all things are +illusion. For the rest"--here he shot a glance of fiery disdain at the +titterers--"I make not dolls for these scoffers, but for their +betters. This is for the little masters on their Big Day. To-morrow I +will present it to the _sahib_ and the _mem_, since the little +_sahibs_ themselves are away over the Black Water. For old Premoo +knows what is due. This dust-like one, lame of a leg and blind of an +eye, has not always been a garden coolie--a mere picker of weeds, a +gatherer of dried leaves, saved from starvation by such trivial tasks. +In his youth Premoo hath carried young masters in his bosom, and +guarded them night and day after the manner of bearers. And hath found +amusement for them also; even to the making of dolls as this one. Ay! +it is true," he went on, led to garrulous indignation by renewed +sounds of mirth from behind; "dolls which gave them delight, for they +were not as some folk, black of face, but _sahib logue_ who, by God's +grace, grew to be _ginerals_ and _jedges_, and commissioners, and--and +even _Lat-sahibs_." + +The old voice, though it rose in pitch with each rise in rank, was not +strong enough to overbear the titter, and the doll-maker paused in +startled doubt to look at his own creation. + +"I can see naught amiss," he muttered to himself; "it is as I used to +make them, for sure." His anxious critical eye lingered almost +wistfully over the bald head, the pincushion body, the sausage limbs +of his creature, yet found no flaw in it; since fingers and toes were +a mere detail, and as for hair, a tuft of wool would settle that +point. What more could folk want, sensible folk, who knew that a doll +must be always a doll--nothing more, nothing less? + +Suddenly a thought came to make him put doubt to the test, and he +turned to the nearest of the solemn-faced, wide-eyed semicircle of +babies. + +"Thou canst dandle it whilst I thread the needle, Gungi," he said +pompously, "but have a care not to injure the child, and let not the +others touch it." + +The solemnity left one chubby brown face, and one pair of chubby brown +hands closed in glad possession round the despised rag doll. Old +Premoo heaved a sigh of relief. + +"Said I not so, brothers and sisters?" he cried exultingly. "My hand +has not lost its art with the years. A doll is a doll ever to a child, +as a child is a child ever to the man and the woman. As for glass +eyes, they are illusion--they perish!" + +"Nevertheless, thou wilt put clothes to it, for sure, brother," +remonstrated the fat butler, who had joined the group, "ere giving it +to the Presences. 'Tis like a skinned fowl now, and bare decent." + +Premoo shook his head mournfully. "Lo! _khangee_, my rags, as thou +seest, scarce run to a big enough body and legs! And the _Huzoor's_ +tailor would give no scraps to Premoo the garden coolie; though in the +old days, when the little masters lay in these arms, and there was +favour to be carried by the dressing of dolls, such as he were ready +to make them, male and female, kings and queens, fairies and heroes, +_mem-sahibs_ and _Lat-sahibs_ after their kind. But it matters not in +the end, _khanjee_, it matters not! The doll is a doll ever to a +child, as a child is a child ever to the man and the woman, though +they know not whether it will wear a crown or a shroud." + +So as Christmas Eve passed into Christmas night, Premoo stitched away +contentedly as he sat under the stars. There was no Christmas message +in them for the old man. The master's Big Day meant nothing to him +save an occasion for the giving of gifts, notably rag dolls! There was +no vision for him in the velvet darkness of the spangled sky of angels +proclaiming the glad tidings of birth; and yet in a way his old heart, +wise with the dim wisdom which long life brings, held the answer to +the great Problem, as in vague self-consolation for the titterings he +murmured to himself now and again: "It is so always; naught matters +but the children, and the children's children." + +And when his task was over, he laid the result for safety on the +basket of withered leaves which he had swept up from the path that +evening, and wrapping himself in his thin cotton shawl, lay down to +sleep in the shelter of the poinsettia and oleander hedge. + +So, the Christmas sun peering through the morning mists shone upon a +quaint _creche_ indeed--on the veriest simulacrum of a child lying on +a heap of faded red hand-like leaves and white star-like blossoms. +Perhaps it smiled at the sight. Humanity did, anyhow, as it passed and +repassed from the servants' quarters to its work in the house. For in +truth old Premoo's creation looked even more comical in the daylight +than it had by the faint flicker of the lamp. There was something +about it productive of sheer mirth, yet of mirth that was tender. Even +the fat butler, on his way to set breakfast, stopped to giggle +foolishly in its face. + +"God knows what it is like," he said finally. "I deemed it was a +skinned fowl last night, but 'tis not that. It might be anything." + +"Ay!" assented the bearer, who had come out, duster in hand. "That is +just where it comes. A body cannot say what it might or might not be. +Bala Krishna himself, for aught I know." Whereupon he salaamed; and +others passing followed suit, in jest at first, afterwards with a +suspicion of gravity in their mirth, since, when all was said and +done, who knew what anything was really in this illusory world? + +So the rag doll held its levee that Christmas morning, and when the +time came for its presentation to the _Huzoors_ there were curious +eyes watching the old man as he sate with his offering on the lowest +step of the silent, empty house, waiting for the master and mistress +to come out into the verandah. Premoo had covered the doll's bed of +withered flowers with some fresh ones, so it lay in pomp in its +basket, amid royal scarlet and white and gold; nevertheless he waited +till the very last, until the smallest platter of sugar and oranges +and almonds had been ranged at the master's feet, ere he crept up the +steps, salaaming humbly, yet with a vague confidence on his old face. + +"It is for the child-people," he said, in his cracked old voice. "This +dust-like one has nothing else, but a doll is always a doll to them, +as a child is a child to the man and the woman." + +Then for an instant the rag doll lay, as it were, in state, surrounded +by offerings. But not for long. Some one laughed, then another, till +even old Premoo joined doubtfully in the general mirth. + +"The devil is in it," chuckled the fat butler, apologetically; "but +the twelve _Imams_ themselves would not keep grave over it during the +requiem!" + +"By Jove, Laura," cried George Langford, "we must really send that +home to the kids. It's too absurd!" + +"Yes," she assented, a trifle absently, "we must indeed." She stopped +to take the quaint travesty from its basket, and as she did so one of +the red hands of the poinsettias clung to its sausage legs. She +brushed the flower aside with a smile which broadened to a laugh; for +in truth the thing was more ludicrously comical than ever seen thus, +held in mid-air. George Langford found it so, anyhow, and exploded +into a fresh guffaw. + +She flushed suddenly, and gathered the unshapen thing in her arms as +if to hide it from his laughter. + +"Don't, George," she said, "it--it seems unkind. Thank you, Premoo, +very much. We will certainly send it home to the little masters; and +they, I am sure--" Here her eyes fell upon the doll again, and mirth +got the better of her gravity once more. + +Half-an-hour afterwards, however, as she stood alone in the +drawing-room, ready dressed for her drive, the gravity had returned as +she looked down on the quaint monstrosity spread out on the table, +where on the evening before the rose-shaded lamp had been. It was +ridiculous, certainly, but beneath that there was something else. What +was it? What had the old man said: "A doll is always a doll...." He +had said that and something more: "As the child is always a child to +the man and the woman." It ought to be--but was it? Was not that tie +forgotten, lost sight of in others ... sometimes? + +Half mechanically she took the rag doll, and sitting down on a +rocking-chair laid the caricature on her lap among the dainty frills +and laces of her pretty gown. And this was Christmas Day--the +children's day--she thought vaguely, dreamily, as she rocked herself +backwards and forwards slowly. But the house was empty save for +this--this idea, like nothing really in heaven or earth; yet for all +that giving the Christmas message, the message of peace and goodwill +which the birth of a child into the world should give to the man and +the woman:-- + +"Unto us a child is born." + +She smiled faintly--the thing on her lap seemed so far from such a +memory--and then, with that sudden half-remorseful pity, she once more +gathered the rag doll closer in her arms, as if to shield it from her +own laughter. + +And as she sate so, her face soft and kind, her husband coming into +the room behind her, paused at what he saw. And something that was not +laughter surged up in him; for he understood in a flash, understood +once and for all, how empty his house had been to her, how empty her +arms, how empty her life. + +He crossed to her quickly, but she was on her feet almost defiantly at +the first sight of him. "Ridiculous monster!" she exclaimed, gaily +tossing the doll back on the table. "But it has an uncanny look about +it which fascinates one. Gracious! Where are my gloves? I must have +left them in my room, and I promised to be ready at eleven!" + +When she had gone to look for them, George Langford took up the rag +doll in his turn--took it up gingerly, as men take their babies--and +stared at it almost fiercely. And he stood there, stern, square, +silent, staring at it until his wife came back. Then he walked up to +her deliberately and laid his hands on hers. + +"I'm going to pack this thing up at once, my dear," he said, "and take +it over this morning to little Mrs. Greville. She starts this +afternoon, you know, to catch the Messageries steamer. She'll take it +home for us; and so the boys could have it by the Christmas mail, +which I forgot." + +The words were commonplace, but there was a world of meaning in the +tone. + +"I--I thought you were busy," she said indistinctly, after a pause in +which the one thing in the world seemed to her that tightening hold +upon her hand. "If you are--I--I could go...." + +There was another pause--a longer one. + +"I thought you were going out," he said at last, and his voice, though +distinct, was not quite steady; "but if you aren't, we might go +together. My work can easily stand over, and--and Campbell can drive +you out some other day when I can't." + +She gave an odd little sound between a laugh and a sob. + +"That would be best, perhaps," she said. "I'd like the boys to have +this"--she laid her other hand tenderly on the rag doll--"by the +Christmas mail I had forgotten." + +Old Premoo was sweeping up the withered leaves and flowers from the +poinsettia and oleander hedge, when first one and then another high +dogcart drove past him. And when the second one had disappeared, he +turned to the general audience on the other side of the hedge, and +said with great pride and pomp-- + +"Look you! The scoffers mocked at my doll, but the _Huzoors_ +understand. The _sahib_ himself has taken it to send to the little +_sahibs_, and the _mem_ packed it up herself and went with him, +instead of going in the Captain _sahib's_ dogcart. That is because a +doll is always a doll; as for glass eyes and such like, they perish." + +And with that he crushed a handful of withered red poinsettias into +the rubbish basket triumphantly. + + + + + THE SKELETON TREE + + +The engine was conscientiously climbing to the level plateau which +stretches between Bhopal and Bandakui, when I heard this story. + +Ten minutes before, apparently for no other purpose save to supply the +first-class passengers with their early cup of tea, the mail train had +stopped at a desolate little station which consisted of a +concrete-arched, oven-like shed, made still more obtrusively unfitted +for the wilderness in which it stood by a dejected bottle-gourd +striving to climb up it. + +Here a wistful-faced old man in spotless white raiment had appeared in +the dawn with a tray of tea and toast. There were four cups of tea and +only two passengers; myself and a man who had already been asleep on +one side of the carriage when I took possession of the other at +Bhopal. So we saw each other for the first time as we sate up in our +sleeping suits among our blankets and pillows. As the train moved on, +in a series of dislocations which sent half my tea into my saucer, we +left the wistful old face looking at the two unsold cups of tea +regretfully, and I wished I had bought the lot. It seemed such a +pathetic group to leave there in the wilderness, backed by a European +oven and a climbing gourd. + +And it was a wilderness. Miles and miles of it all the same. Piles of +red rocks, blackened on the upper surface, scattered, as if they had +been shot from a cart, among dry bents and stunted bushes; curious +bushes with a plenitude of twig and a paucity of leaf. Here and there +was a still more stunted tree with a paucity of both: a rudimentary +tree, splay, gouty, with half-a-dozen or so of kidney-shaped lobes in +place of foliage, parched, dusty, unwholesome. + +Not a level country, but one dented into causeless dells, raised into +irrelevant hillocks; both, however, trending almost imperceptibly +upwards, so that the eye, deceived by this, imagined greater things on +the horizon. + +But there was nothing. Only here and there a bigger patch of charred +and blackened bents, telling where a spark from a passing train had +found a wider field for fire than usual, unchecked by the piles of red +rocks. That, then, was the secret of their blackened surface. + +It was too still in that hot windless dawn for flame, but as we sped +on, we added to the dull trails of smoke creeping slowly among the +stones and bushes, each with a faint touch of fire showing like an eye +to the snaky curves behind. A sinister-looking landscape, indeed, to +unaccustomed eyes like mine. I sate watching those stealthy, +fire-tipped fingers in the grass, till at a curve in the line, due to +a steeper rise, I saw something. "What on earth's that?" I cried +involuntarily. + +"What's what?" returned my unknown companion, in such a curious tone +of voice that, involuntarily, I turned to him for a moment. + +"That--that tree I suppose it is," I began; "but look for yourself." + +I turned back to the sight which had startled me, and gave a low gasp. +It was gone. On more level ground we were steaming quickly past a very +ordinary dent of a dell, where, as usual, one of these stunted +rudimentary trees stood on an open patch of dry bents, seamed and +seared by fire trails. + +I looked at my companion incredulously. "What an extraordinary thing!" +I exclaimed. "I could have sworn that I saw--" I paused from sheer +astonishment. + +"What?" asked the other passenger, curiously. + +"What?" I echoed. "That is just the question. It looked like a tree--a +skeleton tree. Absolutely white, with curved ribs of branches--and +there were tongues of flame." I paused again, looking out on what we +were passing. "It must, of course," I continued, "have been some +curious effect of light on that stunted tree yonder. Its branches +_are_ curved like ribs, and, if you notice, the bark _is_ lighter." + +"Exactly," assented my companion. Then he told me a long botanical +name, and pointed out that there were many such trees or bushes in the +low jungle, all distinctly to be seen against the darker kinds, +distinctly but not blindingly like that curious effect of dawn-light I +had seen. + +I had, however, almost forgotten my vision, as, thus started, we +talked over our tea, when he suddenly said, "Going on to Agra, I +suppose?" + +"No," I replied, "I'm globe-trotting for sport. I'm going to spend +all I can of my return-ticket in these jungles after leopard and +tiger. I hear it's first-class if you don't mind letting yourself +go--getting right away from the beaten track and all that. I mean to +get hold of a jungle tribe if I can--money's no object, and--" + +I ran on, glad to detail plans for what had been a long-cherished +dream of mine, when my companion arrested me by the single word-- + +"Don't." + +It was in consequence of my surprise that he told me the following +story:-- + +"I surveyed this railway ten years ago. The country was very much the +same as it is now, except that it was all, naturally, off the beaten +track. There were two of us in camp together, Graham and myself. He +was a splendid chap; keen as mustard on everything. It did not matter +what it was. So that one day, when he and I were working out levels +after late breakfast, he jumped up like a shot--just as if he had not +been tramping over these cursed rubbish shoots of red rocks for six +hours--at the sound of a feeble whimpering near the cook-room tent. + +"'That devil of yours is at it again,' he said, 'and I won't have it, +that's all!' + +"As he went off I followed, for I did not relish Graham's justice when +it disabled the cook. + +"But this time I owned that the brute deserved punishment, for a more +forlorn little tragedy than that which was being enacted among the +pots and pans I never saw. + +"Mohubbut Khan, chief villain, was seated--naked to the waist, bald as +to head, after the manner of native cooks at work, on a low reed +stool, brandishing a knife in one hand, while the other held a +skrawking leggy white cock. + +"Exactly in front of him was a group more suggestive of monkeys +than men. It consisted of a very old man, wizened, bandy-legged, +bandy-armed, whose white teeth showed in animal perfection as he +howled, and a child of the same build, clinging to him convulsively, +all legs, and arms, and shrieks. + +"Between them and the cook stood Graham. He was a big fellow; fair as +you are. In fact you are rather like him. There was a moment's pause, +during which the old anatomy's voice rose in plaintive howls of +resignation. + +"'Lo! sonling, be comforted. Death comes to all, even to white cocks. +It is but a few years. And grand-dad will hatch another. It is a +sacrifice. Sacrifice to the _sahib logue_ who bring death as they +choose!' + +"Well, it turned out, of course, to be a case of wanton cruelty. It +always is. For hopeless inability to be considerate commend me to a +native jack-in-office. There were fifty other fowls in the +neighbouring village, but nothing would serve the underling whose duty +it was to collect supplies, but that this wretched child's pet should +serve for the _Huzoor's_ dinner. The old man's joy when it was +released was purely pitiable. He would have reared another for his +grandson, he asserted garrulously; ay! even to the hatching of an egg +from the very beginning, with toil by day and night. But only the +Great God knew if the child's heart would have gone out to the chick +as it had to the cock, for the heart was capricious. It was not to be +counted upon, since the Great God made some men, yea! even some +_Huzoors_, different from others. He looked from Graham to me as he +spoke, and somehow I felt small. So as Graham was evidently master of +the situation, I slunk back to my work. + +"There were sounds of woe thereinafter from the cook-room tent, and +Graham himself supervised the dinner that night, in order, he +explained somewhat apologetically, that I might not suffer from his +conceptions of duty. + +"It was two days after this, and we had shifted camp fifteen miles, +when, having occasion to go into Graham's tent after dark, I stumbled +over some one sitting among the corner tent-pegs. It was the grandpapa +of the white cock, and he explained to me in his lingo--for he was one +of the jungle people--that he had come in exchange for that precious +bird. One life or another mattered little. Grim-_sahib_ had spared the +child's heart's joy, which was now living with him in the maternal +mansion. There being, therefore, no necessity for the occupation of +hatching eggs, he, Bunder--yea! of a surety, it was the same name as +that of the monkey people--had come to do service to the _Huzoors_ +instead of the white cock. + +"That was absolutely all I could get out of him. So for days and weeks +he followed us. He was useful in his way, especially to Graham, who +had a passion not only for sport, but for all sorts of odd knowledge." + +I remember interrupting here that that was half the pleasure of new +surroundings, to which my fellow-traveller replied drily that he had +expected I would say so, as I really reminded him very much of Graham. + +"This passion of his, however, led him into being a bit reckless, and +as the hot weather came on he began to get touched up by fever. Still, +he continued working during the off days, and seemed little the worse +until one evening when he went to bed with the shivers after a leopard +hunt. Then old Bunder crept over to my tent. + +"'Grim-_sahib_ must go home across the Black Water at once, _Huzoor_,' +he said quietly, 'or his bones will whiten the jungle. He has seen the +Skeleton Tree.' + +"That was, in essence, all he had to say, though his explanations were +lengthy. It was simply a Skeleton Tree, and it was always seen where +fire fingers met; but those who saw it became skeletons in the jungle +before long unless they possessed a certain talisman. There were such +talismans among the hill tribes, and those who fell sick of fever +always wore one if they could compass it. That was not often, since +they were rare. He himself had one, but what use was it when life, +from old age, had become no more worth than a white cock's? So his +grandson wore it; wore it as he fed the joy of his heart peacefully in +the ancestral home; thanks to Grim-_sahib!_ + +"'But how do you know he saw the Tree?' I asked. + +"'It was when we had crawled up nigh the end of a dip, _Huzoor_,' +replied Bunder. 'He looked up and said, "What's that?" And when I +asked him what he had seen, he said: "It is gone. It must have been +that stunted tree. But it looked like a skeleton, and there were fire +fingers round it." So I knew. Send him home, _Huzoor_, away from its +power, or his bones will whiten the jungle.' + +"During the following days I really began--though I'm not an +imaginative chap--to feel a bit queer about things. Graham couldn't +shake off his fever, and more than once when he was delirious in the +evenings he would startle me by saying, 'What's that?' But he would +laugh the next moment, and add, 'Only a tree, of course; it was the +light.' + +"There was no doctor within miles; and, besides, it was not really +such a bad case as all that. At least it didn't seem so to me or to +Graham himself. Only to old Bunder, who became quite a nuisance with +his warnings, so that I was glad when, after a confused rigmarole +about white cocks and sacrifices, he disappeared one day and was seen +no more. Partly, perhaps, because we moved back to a higher camp in +the hopes of escaping the malaria. + +"But we didn't. Graham grew appreciably worse. He was fairly well by +day; it was at night that the fever seemed to grip him. I used to sit +up with him till twelve or one o'clock, and then turn in till about +dawn, when the servants had orders to call me, and I would go over and +see after him again. + +"But one day, or rather night, it was still quite dark when my bearer +roused me with his persistent drone of '_Saheeb, saheeb!_' and I knew +in an instant something was wrong. Graham, shortly after I left him, +had got out of bed, dressed himself in his shikar clothes, taken his +gun, and gone away from the camp. His bearer, a lad whom he had +promoted to the place in one of his impulsive generous fits of revolt +against things unjustifiable, had failed to take alarm until his +master's prolonged absence had made him seek and rouse my man. The +latter was full of apologies; but what else, he protested, could be +expected of babes and sucklings promoted out of due season? The babe +and suckling meanwhile was blubbering incoherently, and asserting that +he was not to blame. The _sahib_ had called for Bunder and Bunder had +come; and they had gone off together. + +"'Bunder?' I exclaimed. 'Impossible! He hasn't been near the camp for +days. Did any one else see him?' But no one had. And as there was no +time to be lost in inquiries I dismissed the idea as an attempt on the +boy's part to relieve himself from responsibility, and organised the +whole camp into a search party. + +"It was a last-quarter moon, and I shall never forget the eeriness of +that long, fruitless search. At first I kept calling 'Graham, Graham!' +but after a time I felt this to be useless, and that he must be either +unconscious, or delirious, or determined to keep out of our way. So I +pushed on and on in silence, through the bushes and bents, expecting +the worst. But after all it was the best. We found him at dawn lying +under one of those stunted trees fast asleep. So sound asleep that he +did not wake when we carried him back to camp on a litter of boughs. +So sound that it was not until the afternoon, when he stirred and +asked for beef-tea, that I discovered he wore round his neck a plaited +cord of dirty red silk with a small bag attached to it. + +"'How the deuce did that come there?' he asked drowsily, putting his +hand up to feel it. How, indeed? He could never explain; and the bag +held nothing but a bit of blank paper folded into four. He took the +thing to England with him when he went home on sick leave the next +month, and so far as I know is no wiser than he was then as to how it +came round his neck." + +Here my fellow-traveller paused, as a whistle from the engine told we +were pulling up again. "Well," I said, a trifle plaintively, "but why +should not I?" + +He was already standing on the platform among a miscellaneous pile of +belongings, such as Indian travellers delight to carry about with +them, ere he replied:-- + +"Good-by. Glad to have met you--for you remind me awfully of Graham!" + +I sometimes wonder if I should have taken his warning seriously or +treated it as a traveller's tale. As it was, I had not the chance of +testing its truth. For, at my destination, I found a telegram +recalling me to England on urgent business. So, beyond that passing +glimpse of the Skeleton Tree, I have no experience. + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's In the Guardianship of God, by Flora Annie Steel + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE GUARDIANSHIP OF GOD *** + +***** This file should be named 39795.txt or 39795.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/7/9/39795/ + +Produced by Charles Bowen. from page scans provided by +Google Books (Harvard University) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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