THE SERVICE EDITION
OF
THE WORKS OF RUDYARD KIPLING
LIFE'S HANDICAP
VOL. I
LIFE'S HANDICAP
BEING
STORIES OF MINE OWN PEOPLE
BY
RUDYARD KIPLING
IN TWO VOLUMES VOL. I
I met a hundred men on the road to Delhi and they were all my brothers. — Native Proverb.
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON
1915
COPYRIGHT
TO
E. K. R.
FROM
R. K.
1887-89 C. M. G.
PREFACE
In Northern India stood a monastery called The Chubara of Dhunni Bhagat. No one remem- bered who or what Dhunni Bhagat had been. He had lived his life, made a little money, and spent it all, as every good Hindu should do, on a work of piety — the Chubara. That was full of brick cells, gaily painted with the figures of Gods and kings and elephants, where worn-out priests could sit and meditate on the latter end of things : the paths were brick paved, and the naked feet of thousands had worn them into gutters. Clumps of mangoes sprouted from between the bricks ; great pipal trees overhung the well-windlass that whined all dayj and hosts of parrots tore through the trees. Crows and squirrels were tame in that place, for they knew that never a priest would touch them.
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The wandering mendicants, charm-sellers, and holy vagabonds for a hundred miles round used to make the Chubara their place of call and rest. Mahomedan, Sikh, and Hindu mixed equally under the trees. They were old men, and when man has come to the turnstiles of Night all the creeds in the world seem to him wonderfully alike and colourless.
Gobind the one-eyed told me this. He was a holy man who lived on an island in the middle of a river and fed the fishes with little bread pellets twice a day. In flood-time, when swollen corpses stranded themselves at the foot of the island, Gobind would cause them to be piously burned, for the sake of the honour of mankind, and having regard to his own account with God hereafter. But when two-thirds of the island was torn away in a spate, Gobind came across the river to Dhunni Bhagat's Chubara, he and his brass drinking vessel with the well-cord round the neck, his short arm- rest crutch studded with brass nails, his roll of bedding, his big pipe, his umbrella, and his tall sugar-loaf hat with the nodding peacock feathers in it. He wrapped himself up in his patched quilt made of every colour and material in the world, sat x
PREFACE
down in a sunny corner of the very quiet Chubara, and, resting his arm on his short'handled crutch, waited for death. The people brought him food and little clumps of marigold flowers, and he gave his blessing in return. He was nearly blind, and his face was seamed and lined and wrinkled beyond belief, for he had lived in his time, which was before the English came within five hundred miles of Dhunni Bhagat's Chubara.
When we grew to know each other well, Gobind would tell me tales in a voice most like the rumbling of heavy guns over a wooden bridge. His tales were true, but not one in twenty could be printed in an English book, because the Eng- lish do not think as natives do. They brood over matters that a native would dismiss till a fitting occasion; and what they would not think twice about a native will brood over till a fitting occasion: then native and English stare at each other hopelessly across great gulfs of miscom- prehension.
' And what/ said Gobind one Sunday evening, 4 is your honoured craft, and by what manner of means earn you your daily bread ? '
4 1 am/ said 1, 4 a herani — one who writes with xi
LIFE'S HANDICAP
a pen upon paper, not being in the service of the Government/
'Then what do you write ?' said Gobind. * Come nearer, for I cannot see your countenance, and the light fails/
4 1 write of all matters that lie within my under- standing, and of many that do not. But chiefly I write of Life and Death, and men and women, and Love and Fate according to the measure of my ability, telling the tale through the mouths of one, two, or more people* Then by the favour of God the tales are sold and money accrues to me that I may keep alive/
4 Even so/ said Gobind. 4 That is the work of the bazar story-teller j but he speaks straight to men and women and does not write anything at all. Only when the tale has aroused expectation, and calamities are about to befall the virtuous, he stops suddenly and demands payment ere he continues the narration. Is it so in your craft, my son ? '
4 1 have heard of such things when a tale is of great length, and is sold, as a cucumber, in small pieces/
4 Ay, I was once a famed teller of stories when xii
PREFACE
I was begging on the road between Koshin and Etra; before the last pilgrimage that ever I took to Orissa. I told many tales and heard many more at the rest-houses in the evening when we were merry at the end of the march. It is in my heart that grown men are but as little children in the matter of tales, and the oldest tale is the most beloved/
'With your people that is truth/ said I. 'But in regard to our people they desire new tales, and when all is written they rise up and declare that the tale were better told in such and such a manner, and doubt either the truth or the invention thereof/
1 But what folly is theirs ! ' said Gobind, throw- ing out his knotted hand. * A tale that is told is a true tale as long as the telling lasts. And of their talk upon it — you know how Bilas Khan, that was the prince of tale-tellers, said to one who mocked him in the great rest-house on the Jhelum road : " Go on, my brother, and finish that I have begun," and he who mocked took up the tale, but having neither voice nor manner for the task came to a standstill, and the pilgrims at supper made him eat abuse and stick half that night/ xiii
LIFE'S HANDICAP
'Nay, but with our people, money having passed, it is their right j as we should turn against a shoeseller in regard to shoes if those wore out. If ever I make a book you shall see and judge/
'And the parrot said to the falling tree, Wait, brother, till I fetch a prop!' said Gobind with a grim chuckle. 'God has given me eighty years, and it may be some over. I cannot look for more than day granted by day and as a favour at this tide. Be swift/
'In what manner is it best to set about the task/ said I, ' oh chief est of those who string pearls with their tongue ? '
'How do I know? Yet' — he thought for a little — ' how should I not know ? God has made very many heads, but there is only one heart in all the world among your people or my people. They are children in the matter of tales/
' But none are so terrible as the little ones, if a man misplace a word, or in a second telling vary events by so much as one small devil/
'Ay, I also have told tales to the little ones,
but do thou this ' His old eyes fell on the
gaudy paintings of the wall, the blue and red
dome, and the flames of the poinsettias beyond.
xiv
PREFACE
4 Tell them first of those things that thou hast seen and they have seen together. Thus their know- ledge will piece out thy imperfections. Tell them of what thou alone hast seen, then what thou hast heard, and since they be children tell them of battles and kings, horses, devils, elephants, and angels, but omit not to tell them of love and such- like. All the earth is full of tales to him who listens and does not drive away the poor from his door. The poor are the best of tale-tellers; for they must lay their ear to the ground every night.'
After this conversation the idea grew in my head, and Gobind was pressing in his inquiries as to the health of the book.
Later, when we had been parted for months, it happened that I was to go away and far off, and I came to bid Gobind good-bye.
4 It is farewell between us now, for I go a very long journey/ I said.
'And I also. A longer one than thou. But what of the book ? ' said he.
'It will be born in due season if it is so ordained/
'I would I could see it/ said the old man, xv
LIFE'S HANDICAP
huddling beneath his quilt. ' But that will not be. I die three days hence, in the night, a little before the dawn. The term of my years is acconv plished/
In nine cases out of ten a native makes no miscalculation as to the day of his death. He has the foreknowledge of the beasts in this respect.
4 Then thou wilt depart in peace, and it is good talk, for thou hast said that life is no delight to thee/
'But it is a pity that our book is not born. How shall I know that there is any record of my name ? '
4 Because I promise, in the forepart of the book, preceding everything else, that it shall be written, Gobind, sadhu, of the island in the river and awaiting God in Dhunni Bhagat's Chubara, first spoke of the book/ said I.
'And gave counsel — an old man's counsel. Gobind, son of Gobind of the Chumi village in the Karaon tehsil, in the district of Mooltan. Will that be written also ? '
4 That will be written also/
4 And the book will go across the Black Water xvi
PREFACE
to the houses of your people, and all the Sahibs will know of me who am eighty years old ? '
' All who read the book shall know. I cannot promise for the rest/
'That is good talk. Call aloud to all who are in the monastery, and I will tell them this thing/
They trooped up, faquirs, sadhus, sunnyasis, byragis, nihangs, and mullahs, priests of all faiths and every degree of raggedness, and Gobind, leaning upon his crutch, spoke so that they were visibly filled with envy, and a white-haired senior bade Gobind think of his latter end instead of transitory repute in the mouths of strangers. Then Gobind gave me his blessing and I came away.
These tales have been collected from all places, and all sorts of people, from priests in the Chubara, from Ala Yar the carver, Jiwun Singh the car* penter, nameless men on steamers and trains round the world, women spinning outside their cottages in the twilight, officers and gentlemen now dead and buried, and a few, but these are the very best, my father gave me. The greater part of them have been published in magazines and newspapers, xvii
LIFE'S HANDICAP
to whose editors I am indebted; but some are new on this side of the water, and some have not seen the light before.
The most remarkable stories are, of course, those which do not appear — for obvious reasons.
XVlll
CONTENTS
Page The Incarnation of Krishna Mulvaney « 1
The Courting of Dinah Shadd . . .45
On Greenhow Hill 84
The Man Who Was 115
The Head of the District . . . .139 Without Benefit of Clergy . . . .177 At the End of the Passage . . . .216
xix
THE INCARNATION OF KRISHNA MULVANEY
Wohl auf, my bully cavaliers
We ride to church to-day, The man that hasn't got a horse
Must steal one straight away.
Be reverent, men, remember
This is a Gottes haus. Du, Conrad, cut along der aisle
And schenck der whiskey aus.
Hans Breitmann 's Ride to Church.
ONCE upon a time, very far from England, there lived three men who loved each other so greatly that neither man nor woman could come between them. They were in no sense refined, nor to be admitted to the outer^door mats of decent folk, because they happened to be private soldiers in Her Majesty's Army; and private soldiers of our service have small time for self ^culture. Their duty is to keep themselves and
L. H. Vol. I JEl B
LIFE'S HANDICAP
their accoutrements specklessly clean, to refrain from getting drunk more often than is necessary, to obey their superiors, and to pray for a war. All these things my friends accomplished ; and of their own motion threw in some fighting-work for which the Army Regulations did not call. Their fate sent them to serve in India, which is not a golden country, though poets have sung otherwise. There men die with great swiftness, and those who live suffer many and curious things. I do not think that my friends concerned themselves much with the social or political aspects of the East. They attended a not unimportant war on the northern frontier, another one on our western boundary, and a third in Upper Burma. Then their regiment sat still to recruit, and the boundless monotony of cantonment life was their portion. They were drilled morning and evening on the same dusty parade-ground. They wandered up and down the same stretch of dusty white road, attended the same church and the same grog-shop, and slept in the same lime-washed barn of a barrack for two long years. There was Mulvaney, the father in the craft, who had served with various regiments from Bermuda to Halifax, old in war, scarred, reckless, resourceful, and in his pious hours an unequalled soldier. To him turned for help and comfort six and a half feet of slow-moving, heavy-
2
KRISHNA MULVANEY
footed Yorkshireman, born on the wolds, bred in the dales, and educated chiefly among the carriers' carts at the back of York railway-station. His name was Learoyd, and his chief virtue an unmiti' gated patience which helped him to win fights. How Ortheris, a fox-terrier of a Cockney, ever came to be one of the trio, is a mystery which even to-day I cannot explain. 4 There was always three av us/ Mulvaney used to say. * An' by the grace av God, so long as our service lasts, three av us they'll always be. Tis betther so.'
They desired no companionship beyond their own, and it was evil for any man of the regiment who attempted dispute with them. Physical argument was out of the question as regarded Mulvaney and the Yorkshireman ; and assault on Ortheris meant a combined attack from these twain — a business which no five men were anxious to have on their hands. Therefore they flourished, sharing their drinks, their tobacco, and their money ; good luck and evil ; battle and the chances of death; life and the chances of happiness from Calicut in southern, to Peshawur in northern India.
Through no merit of my own it was my good fortune to be in a measure admitted to their friend' ship — frankly by Mulvaney from the beginning, sullenly and with reluctance by Learoyd, and
3
LIFE'S HANDICAP
suspiciously by Ortheris, who held to it that no man not in the Army could fraternise with a red' coat, 'Like to like/ said he. 'I'm a bloomin' sodger — he's a bloomin' civilian. Taint natural -that's all/
But that was not all. They thawed progres^ sively, and in the thawing told me more of their lives and adventures than I am ever likely to write.
Omitting all else, this tale begins with the Lamentable Thirst that was at the beginning of First Causes. Never was such a thirst — Mulvaney told me so. They kicked against their compulsory virtue, but the attempt was only successful in the case of Ortheris. He, whose talents were many, went forth into the highways and stole a dog from a 4 civilian ' — videlicet, some one, he knew not who, not in the Army. Now that civilian was but newly connected by marriage with the colonel of the regiment, and outcry was made from quarters least anticipated by Ortheris, and, in the end, he was forced, lest a worse thing should happen, to dispose at ridiculously unremunerative rates of as promising a small terrier as ever graced one end of a leading string. The purchase - money was barely sufficient for one small outbreak which led him to the guardroom. He escaped, however, with nothing worse than a severe reprimand, and a few hours of punishment drill. Not for nothing
KRISHNA MULVANEY
had he acquired the reputation of being ' the best soldier of his inches ' in the regiment. Mulvaney had taught personal cleanliness and efficiency as the first articles of his companions' creed. 4A dhirty man/ he was used to say, in the speech of his kind, 'goes to Clink for a weakness in the knees, an' is coort-martialled for a pair av socks missin' ; but a clane man, such as is an ornament to his service — a man whose buttons are gold, whose coat is wax upon him, an' whose 'coutre- ments are widout a speck — that man may, spakin' in reason, do fwhat he likes an' dhrink from day to divil. That's the pride av bein' dacint.'
We sat together, upon a day, in the shade of a ravine far from the barracks, where a watercourse used to run in rainy weather. Behind us was the scrub jungle, in which jackals, peacocks, the gray wolves of the North - Western Provinces, and occasionally a tiger estrayed from Central India, were supposed to dwell. In front lay the canton- ment, glaring white under a glaring sun ; and on either side ran the broad road that led to Delhi.
It was the scrub that suggested to my mind the wisdom of Mulvaney taking a day's leave and going upon a shooting -tour. The peacock is a holy bird throughout India, and he who slays one is in danger of being mobbed by the nearest villagers j but on the last occasion that Mulvaney
5
LIFE'S HANDICAP
had gone forth, he had contrived, without in the least offending local religious susceptibilities, to return with six beautiful peacock skins which he sold to profit. It seemed just possible then
4 But fwhat manner av use is ut to me goin' out widout a dhrink? The ground's powdher' dhry underfoot, an* ut gets unto the throat fit to kill/ wailed Mulvaney, looking at me reproachfully. ' An' a peacock is not a bird you can catch the tail av onless ye run. Can a man run on wather — an' jungle^wather too ? '
Ortheris had considered the question in all its bearings. He spoke, chewing his pipe-stem medi- tatively the while :
' Go forth, return in glory, To Clusium's royal 'ome : An' round these bloomin' temples 'ang The bloomin' shields o' Rome.
You better go. You ain't like to shoot yourself — not while there's a chanst of liquor. Me an* Learoyd'll stay at 'ome an' keep shop — 'case o' anythin* turnin' up. But you go out with a gas* pipe gun an' ketch the little peacockses or somethin'. You kin get one day's leave easy as winkin'. Go along an' get it, an' get peacockses or some' thin'.' 'Jock/ said Mulvaney, turning to Learoyd,
6
KRISHNA MULVANEY
who was half asleep under the shadow of the bank. He roused slowly,
4 Sitha, Mulvaaney, go/ said he.
And Mulvaney went; cursing his allies with Irish fluency and barrack-room point.
'Take note/ said he, when he had won his holiday, and appeared dressed in his roughest clothes with the only other regimental fowling* piece in his hand. 'Take note, Jock, an' you Orth'ris, I am goin' in the face av my own will- all for to please you. I misdoubt anythin' will come av permiscuous huntin' af ther peacockses in a desolit Ian' j an' I know that I will lie down an'' die wid thirrrst. Me catch peacockses for you, ye lazy scutts — an' be sacrificed by the peasanthry — Ugh!'
He waved a huge paw and went away.
At twilight, long before the appointed hour, he returned empty-handed, much begrimed with dirt.
* Peacockses ? ' queried Ortheris from the safe rest of a barrack -room table whereon he was smoking cross-legged, Learoyd fast asleep on a bench.
4 Jock/ said Mulvaney without answering, as he stirred up the sleeper. 'Jock, can ye fight? Will ye fight?'
Very slowly the meaning of the words com- municated itself to the half -roused man. He
LIFE'S HANDICAP
understood — and again — what might these things mean ? Mulvaney was shaking him savagely. Meantime the men in the room howled with delight. There was war in the confederacy at last — war and the breaking of bonds.
Barrack 'room etiquette is stringent. On the direct challenge must follow the direct reply. This is more binding than the ties of tried friend' ship. Once again Mulvaney repeated the question. Learoyd answered by the only means in his power, and so swiftly that the Irishman had barely time to avoid the blow* The laughter around increased. Learoyd looked bewilderedly at his friend — himself as greatly bewildered. Ortheris dropped from the table because his world was falling.
* Come outside/ said Mulvaney, and as the occupants of the barracks-room prepared joyously to follow, he turned and said furiously, * There will be no fight this night — onless any wan av you is wishful to assist. The man that does, follows on/
No man moved. The three passed out into the moonlight, Learoyd fumbling with the buttons of his coat. The parade-ground was deserted except for the scurrying jackals. Mulvaney's impetuous rush carried his companions far into the open ere Learoyd attempted to turn round and continue the discussion.
8
KRISHNA MULVANEY
4 Be still now. Twas my fault for beginnin' things in the middle av an end, Jock. I should ha' comminst wid an explanation ; but Jock, dear, on your sowl are ye fit, think you, for the finest fight that iver was — betther than fightin' me? Considher before ye answer/
More than ever puzzled, Learoyd turned round two or three times, felt an arm, kicked tentatively, and answered, 'Ah'm fit.' He was accustomed to fight blindly at the bidding of the superior mind.
They sat them down, the men looking on from afar, and Mulvaney untangled himself in mighty words.
'Followin' your fools' scheme I wint out into the thrackless desert beyond the barricks. An' there I met a pious Hindu dhriving a bullock- kyart. I tuk ut for granted he wud be delighted for to convoy me a piece, an' I jumped in —
'You long, lazy, black-haired swine,' drawled Ortheris, who would have done the same thing under similar circumstances.
' 'Twas the height av policy. That naygur- man dhruv miles an' miles — as far as the new railway line they're buildin' now back av the Tavi river. 4t 'Tis a kyart for dhirt only," says he now an' again timoreously, to get me out av ut. "Dhirt I am," sez I, "an' the dhryest that you
9
LIFE'S HANDICAP
iver kyarted. Dhrive on, me son, an' glory be wid you." At that I wint to slape, an' took no heed till he pulled up on the embankmint av the line where the coolies were pilin' mud. There was a matther av two thousand coolies on that line — you remimber that. Prisintly a bell rang, an' they throops off to a big pay <• shed. "Where's the white man in charge?" sez I to my kyart- dhriver. " In the shed/' sez he, " engaged on a riffle."— "A fwhat?" sez I. "Riffle," sez he. "You take ticket. He take money. You get nothin'."— "Oho!" sez I, "that's fwhat the shuperior an' cultivated man calls a raffle, me misbeguided child av darkness an' sin. Lead on to that raffle, though fwhat the mischief 'tis doin' so far away from uts home — which is the charity- bazaar at Christmas, an' the colonel's wife grinnin' behind the tea-table — is more than I know." Wid that I wint to the shed an' found 'twas pay- day among the coolies. Their wages was on a table forninst a big, fine, red buck av a man — sivun fut high, four fut wide, an' three fut thick, wid a fist on him like a corn-sack. He was payin' the coolies fair an' easy, but he wud ask each man if he wud raffle that month, an each man sez, "Yes," av course. Thin he wud deduct from their wages accordin'. Whin all was paid, he filled an ould cigar - box full av gun -wads an'
10
KRISHNA MULVANEY
scatthered ut among the coolies. They did not take much joy av that performince, an' small wondher. A man close to me picks up a black gun-wad an' sings out, "I haveut." — "Good may ut do you/' sez I, The coolie wint forward to this big, fine, red man, who threw a cloth off av the most sumpshus, jooled, enamelled an' variously bedivilled sedan-chair I iver saw.'
4 Sedan-chair I Put your 'ead in a bag. That was a palanquin. Don't yer know a palanquin when you see it ?' said Ortheris with great scorn.
4 1 chuse to call ut sedan-chair, an' chair ut shall be, little man,' continued the Irishman. ' Twas a most amazin' chair — all lined wid pink silk an' fitted wid red silk curtains. "Here ut is," sez the red man. " Here ut is," sez the coolie, an' he grinned weakly-ways. " Is ut any use to you ? " sez the red man. "No," sez the coolie; "I'd like to make a presint av ut to you."- "I am graciously pleased to accept that same," sez the red man ; an' at that all the coolies cried aloud in fwhat was mint for cheerful notes, an' wint back to their diggin', lavin' me alone in the shed. The red man saw me, an' his face grew blue on his big, fat neck. "Fwhat d'you want here?" sez he. " Standin'-room an' no more," sez I, " onless it may be fwhat ye niver had, an' that's manners, ye rafflin' ruffian," for I was not goin' to have the
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Service throd upon. " Out of this/' sez he. " I'm in charge av this section av construction." — "I'm in charge av mesilf/' sez I, " an' it's like I will stay a while. D'ye raffle much in these parts?" — "Fwhat's that to you?" sez he. "Nothin'," sez \t " but a great dale to you, for begad I'm thinkin' you get the full half av your revenue from that sedan-chair. Is ut always raffled so ? " I sez, an' wid that I wint to a coolie to ask questions. Bhoys, that man's name is Dearsley, an' he's been rafflin' that ould sedan-chair monthly this matther av nine months. Ivry coolie on the section takes a ticket — or he gives 'em the go — wanst a month on pay- day. Ivry coolie that wins ut gives ut back to him, for 'tis too big to carry away, an' he'd sack the man that thried to sell ut. That Dearsley has been makin' the rowlin' wealth av Roshus by nefarious rafflin'. Think av the burnin' shame to the suffer- in' coolie-man that the Army in Injia are bound to protect an' nourish in their bosoms ! Two thousand coolies defrauded wanst a month 1 '
* Dom t' coolies. Has't gotten t' cheer, man ? ' said Learoyd.
* Hould on. Havin' onearthed this amazin' an' stupenjus fraud committed by the man Dearsley, I hild a council av war; he thryin' all the time to sejuce me into a fight wid opprobrious language. That sedan-chair niver belonged by right to any
12
KRISHNA MULVANEY
foreman av coolies. Tis a king's chair or a quane's. There's gold on ut an' silk an' all manner av trapesemints. Bhoys, 'tis not for me to counte* nance any sort av wrong^doin' — me bein' the ould
man — but anyway he has had ut nine months,
an' he dare not make throuble av ut was taken from him. Five miles away, or ut may be six —
There was a long pause, and the jackals howled merrily. Learoyd bared one arm, and contemplated it in the moonlight. Then he nodded partly to himself and partly to his friends. Ortheris wriggled with suppressed emotion.
4 1 thought ye wud see the reasonableness av ut/ said Mulvaney. 4 1 made bould to say as much to the man before. He was for a direct front attack
— fut, horse, an' guns an' all for nothin', seein'
that I had no thransport to convey the machine away. " I will not argue wid you," sez I, i4 this day, but subsequintly, Mister Dearsley, me rafflin' jool, we talk ut out lengthways. His no good policy to swindle the naygur av his hard'earned emolumints, an' by presint informashin' " —'twas the kyart man that tould me — "ye've been per* pethrating that same for nine months. But I'm a just man," sez I, " an' overlookin' the presumpshin that yondher settee wid the gilt top was not come by honust" — at that he turned sky 'green, so I knew things was more thrue than tellable — "not
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
come by honust, I'm willin' to compound the felony for this month's winnin's." '
4 Ah I Ho I ' from Learoyd and Ortheris.
'That man Dearsley's rushin' on his fate/ continued Mulvaney, solemnly wagging his head. 'All Hell had no name bad enough for me that tide. Faith, he called me a robber! Me! that was savin' him from continuin' in his evil ways widout a remonstrince — an' to a man av conscience a remonstrince may change the chune av his life. " Tis not for me to argue/' sez I, " fwhatever ye are, Mister Dearsley, but, by my hand, I'll take away the temptation for you that lies in that sedan- chair." — " You will have to fight me for ut," sez he, 44 for well I know you will never dare make report to any one."—" Fight I will," sez I, " but not this day, for I'm rejuced for want av nourishmint." — 44 Ye're an ould bould hand," sez he, sizin' me up an' down ; 44 an' a jool av a fight we will have. Eat now an' dhrink, an' go your way." Wid that he gave me some hump an' whisky — good whisky — an' we talked av this an' that the while. 4t It goes hard on me now," sez I, wipin' my mouth, " to con- fiscate that piece av furniture, but justice is justice." — " Ye've not got ut yet," sez he ; 4i there's the fight between." — 44 There is," sez I, 4i an' a good fight. Ye shall have the pick av the best quality in my rigimint for the dinner you have given this day."
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KRISHNA MULVANEY
Thin I came hot-foot to you two. Hould your tongue, the both. Tis this way. To-morrow we three will go there an' he shall have his pick betune me an' Jock. Jock's a deceivin' fighter, for he is all fat to the eye, an' he moves slow. Now I'm all beef to the look, an' I move quick. By my reckonin' the Dearsley man won't take me j so me an' Orth'ris '11 see fair play. Jock, I tell you, 'twill be big f ightin' — whipped, wid the cream above the jam. Afther the business 'twill take a good three av us — Jock'll be very hurt — to haul away that sedan-chair.'
4 Palanquin.' This from Ortheris.
'Fwhatever ut is, we must have ut. Tis the only sellin' piece av property widin reach that we can get so cheap. An' fwhat's a fight af ther all ? He has robbed the naygur-man, dishonust. We rob him honust for the sake av the whisky he gave me.'
'But wot'll we do with the bloomin' article when we've got it ? Them palanquins are as big as 'ouses, an' uncommon 'ard to sell, as McCleary said when ye stole the sentry-box from the Curragh.'
'Who's goin' to do t' f ightin'?' said Learoyd, and Ortheris subsided. The three returned to barracks without a word. Mulvaney's last argu- ment clinched the matter. This palanquin was
15
LIFE'S HANDICAP
property, vendible and to be attained in the simplest and least embarrassing fashion. It would events ally become beer. Great was Mulvaney.
Next afternoon a procession of three formed itself and disappeared into the scrub in the direction of the new railway line. Learoyd alone was with' out care, for Mulvaney dived darkly into the future, and little Ortheris feared the unknown. What befell at that interview in the lonely pay* shed by the side of the half -built embankment only a few hundred coolies know, and their tale is a confusing one, running thus —
'We were at work. Three men in red coats came. They saw the Sahib — Dearsley Sahib. They made oration ; and noticeably the small man among the red-coats. Dearsley Sahib also made oration, and used many very strong words. Upon this talk they departed together to an open space, and there the fat man in the red coat fought with Dearsley Sahib after the custom of white men — with his hands, making no noise, and never at all pulling Dearsley Sahib's hair. Such of us as were not afraid beheld these things for just so long a time as a man needs to cook the mid-day meal. The small man in the red coat had possessed him- self of Dearsley Sahib's watch. No, he did not steal that watch. He held it in his hand, and at certain seasons made outcry, and the twain ceased
16
KRISHNA MULVANEY
their combat, which was like the combat of young bulls in spring. Both men were soon all red, but Dearsley Sahib was much more red than the other. Seeing this, and fearing for his life — because we greatly loved him — some fifty of us made shift to rush upon the red-coats. But a certain man — very black as to the hair, and in no way to be confused with the small man, or the fat man who fought — that man, we affirm, ran upon us, and of us he embraced some ten or fifty in both arms, and beat our heads together, so that our livers turned to water, and we ran away. It is not good to interfere in the fightings of white men. After that Dearsley Sahib fell and did not rise, these men jumped upon his stomach and despoiled him of all his money, and attempted to fire the pay-shed, and departed. Is it true that Dearsley Sahib makes no complaint of these latter things having been done ? We were senseless with fear, and do not at all remember. There was no palanquin near the pay-shed. What do we know about palanquins? Is it true that Dearsley Sahib does not return to this place, on account of his sickness, for ten days ? This is the fault of those bad men in the red coats, who should be severely punished ; for Dearsley Sahib is both our father and mother, and we love him much. Yet, if Dearsley Sahib does not return to this place at all, we will speak the truth. There was a L.H. voi.i 17
LIFE'S HANDICAP
palanquin, for the up-keep of which we were forced to pay nine-tenths of our monthly wage. On such mulctings Dearsley Sahib allowed us to make obeisance to him before the palanquin. What could we do? We were poor men. He took a full half of our wages. Will the Government repay us those moneys ? Those three men in red coats bore the palanquin upon their shoulders and departed. All the money that Dearsley Sahib had taken from us was in the cushions of that palan- quin. Therefore they stole it. Thousands of rupees were there — all our money. It was our bank-box, to fill which we cheerfully contributed to Dearsley Sahib three-sevenths of our monthly wage. Why does the white man look upon us with the eye of disfavour ? Before God, there was a palanquin, and now there is no palanquin ; and if they send the police here to make inquisition, we can only say that there never has been any palanquin. Why should a palanquin be near these works ? We are poor men, and we know nothing ' Such is the simplest version of the simplest story connected with the descent upon Dearsley. From the lips of the coolies I received it. Dearsley him- self was in no condition to say anything, and Mulvaney preserved a massive silence, broken only by the occasional licking of the lips. He had seen a fight so gorgeous that even his power of speech
18
KRISHNA MULVANEY
was taken from him. I respected that reserve until, three days after the affair, I discovered in a disused stable in my quarters a palanquin of un* chastened splendour — evidently in past days the litter of a queen. The pole whereby it swung between the shoulders of the bearers was rich with the painted papier 'inachi of Cashmere. The shoulder^pads were of yellow silk. The panels of the litter itself were ablaze with the loves of all the gods and goddesses of the Hindu Pantheon — lacquer on cedar. The cedar sliding doors were fitted with hasps of translucent Jaipur enamel and ran in grooves shod with silver. The cushions were of brocaded Delhi silk, and the curtains which once hid any glimpse of the beauty of the king's palace were stiff with gold. Closer investigation showed that the entire fabric was everywhere rubbed and discoloured by time and wear ; but even thus it was sufficiently gorgeous to deserve housing on the threshold of a royal zenana. I found no fault with it, except that it was in my stable. Then, trying to lift it by the silver^shod shoulder'pole, I laughed. The road from Dearsley's pay'shed to the cantonment was a narrow and uneven one, and, traversed by three very inexperienced palanquin* bearers, one of whom was sorely battered about the head, must have been a path of torment. S^ill I did not quite recognise the right of the three
19
LIFE'S HANDICAP
musketeers to turn me into a * fence' for stolen property.
'I'm askin' you to warehouse ut,' said MuL vaney, when he was brought to consider the question. 4 There's no steal in ut. Dearsley tould us we cud have ut if we fought. Jock fought — an', oh, sorr, when the throuble was at uts finest an' Jock was bleedin' like a stuck pig, an' little Orth'ris was shquealin' on one leg chewin' big bites out av Dearsley's watch, I wud ha' given my place at the fight to have had you see wan round. He tuk Jock, as I suspicioned he would, an' Jock was deceptive. Nine roun's they were
even matched, an' at the tenth About that
palanquin now. There's not the least throuble in the world, or we wud not ha' brought ut here. You will ondherstand that the Queen — God bless her I — does not reckon for a privit soldier to kape elephints an' palanquins an' sich in barricks. Afther we had dhragged ut down from Dearsley's through that cruel scrub that near broke Orth'ris's heart, we set ut in the ravine for a night ; an' a thief av a porcupine an' a civet-cat av a jackal roosted in ut, as well we knew in the mornin'. I put ut to you, sorr, is an elegint palanquin, fit for the princess, the natural abidin' place av all the verr.iin in cantonmints ? We brought ut to you, afther dhark, and put ut in your shtable. Do not
20
KRISHNA MULVANEY
let your conscience prick. Think av the rejoicin' men in the pay-shed yonder — lookin' at Dearsley wid his head tied up in a towel — an' well knowin' that they can dhraw their pay ivry month widout stoppages for riffles. Indirectly, sorr, you have rescued from an onprincipled son av a night'hawk the peasanthry av a numerous village. An' be* sides, will I let that sedan-chair rot on our hands ? Not I. Tis not every day a piece av pure joolry comes into the market. There's not a king widin these forty miles ' — he waved his hand round the dusty horizon — 'not a king wud not be glad to buy ut. Some day meself, whin I have leisure, I'll take ut up along the road an' dishpose av ut.'
4 How ? ' said I, for I knew the man was capable of anything.
* Get into ut, av coorse, and keep wan eye open through the curtains. Whin I see a likely man av the native persuasion, I will descind blushin' from my canopy and say, " Buy a palanquin, ye black scutt?" I will have to hire four men to carry me first, though ; and that's impossible till next pay-day/
Curiously enough, Learoyd, who had fought for the prize, and in the winning secured the highest pleasure life had to offer him, was alto- gether disposed to undervalue it, while Ortheris openly said it would be better to break the thing
21
LIFE'S HANDICAP
up. Dearsley, he argued, might be a many-sided man, capable, despite his magnificent fighting qualities, of setting in motion the machinery of the civil law — a thing much abhorred by the soldier. Under any circumstances their fun had come and passed ; the next pay-day was close at hand, when there would be beer for all. Where.- fore longer conserve the painted palanquin ?
4 A first-class rifle-shot an' a good little man av your inches you are/ said Mulvaney. 4 But you niver had a head worth a soft-boiled egg. Tis me has to lie awake av nights schamin' an* plottin* for the three av us. OrtiYris, me son, 'tis no matther of a few gallons av beer — no, nor twenty gallons — but tubs an' vats an' firkins in that sedan- chair. Who ut was, an' what ut was, an' how ut got there, we do not know; but I know in my bones that you an' me an' Jock wid his sprained thumb will get a fortune thereby. Lave me alone, an' let me think.'
Meantime the palanquin stayed in my stall, the key of which was in Mulvaney's hands.
Pay-day came, and with it beer. It was not in experience to hope that Mulvaney, dried by four weeks' drought, would avoid excess. Next morn- ing he and the palanquin had disappeared. He had taken the precaution of getting three days' leave ' to see a friend on the railway,' and the
22
KRISHNA MULVANEY
colonel, well knowing that the seasonal outburst was near, and hoping it would spend its force beyond the limits of his jurisdiction, cheerfully gave him all he demanded. At this point MuL vaney's history, as recorded in the mess-room, stopped.
Ortheris carried it not much further. 'No, 'e wasn't drunk/ said the little man loyally, 'the liquor was no more than feelin' its way round inside of 'im ; but 'e went an' filled that 'ole bloomin' palanquin with bottles 'fore 'e went off. 'E's gone an' 'ired six men to carry 'im, an' I 'ad to 'elp 'im into 'is nupshal couch, 'cause 'e wouldn't 'ear reason. 'E's gone off in 'is shirt an' trousies, swearin' tremenjus — gone down the road in the palanquin, wavin' 'is legs out o' windy.'
4 Yes,' said I, ' but where ? '
4 Now you arx me a question. 'E said 'e was goin' to sell that palanquin, but from observations what happened when I was stuffin' 'im through the door, I fancy 'e's gone to the new embankment to mock at Dearsley. 'Soon as Jock's off duty I'm goin' there to see if 'e's safe — not Mulvaney, but t'other man. My saints, but I pity 'im as 'elps Terence out o' the palanquin when 'e's once fair drunk!'
* He'll come back without harm,' I said.
4 'Corse 'e will. On'y question is, what'll 'e be
23
LIFE'S HANDICAP
doin' on the road ? Killing Dearsley, like as not. 'E shouldn't 'a gone without Jock or me/
Reinforced by Learoyd, Ortheris sought the foreman of the coolie-gang. Dearsley's head was still embellished with towels. Mulvaney, drunk or sober, would have struck no man in that con- dition, and Dearsley indignantly denied that he would have taken advantage of the intoxicated brave.
*I had my pick o' you two/ he explained to Learoyd, * and you got my palanquin — not before I'd made my profit on it. Why'd I do harm when everything's settled ? Your man did come here — drunk as Davy's sow on a frosty night — came a-purpose to mock me — stuck his head out of the door an' called me a crucified hodman. I made him drunker, an' sent him along. But I never touched him/
To these things Learoyd, slow to perceive the evidences of sincerity, answered only, 'If owt comes to Mulvaaney 'long o' you, I'll gripple you, clouts or no clouts on your ugly head, an' I'll draw t' throat twistyways, man. See there now/
The embassy removed itself, and Dearsley, the battered, laughed alone over his supper that evening.
Three days passed — a fourth and a fifth. The week drew to a close and Mulvaney did not
24
KRISHNA MULVANEY
return. He, his royal palanquin, and his six attendants, had vanished into air. A very large and very tipsy soldier, his feet sticking out of the litter of a reigning princess, is not a thing to travel along the ways without comment. Yet no man of all the country round had seen any such wonder. He was, and he was not ; and Learoyd suggested the immediate smashment of Dearsley as a sacrifice to his ghost Ortheris insisted that all was well, and in the light of past experience his hopes seemed reasonable*
4 When Mulvaney goes up the road/ said he, "e's like to go a very long ways up, specially when Vs so blue drunk as 'e is now. But what gits me is 'is not bein' 'eard of pullin' wool off the niggers somewheres about. That don't look good. The drink must ha' died out in 'im by this, unless Vs broke a bank, an' then — Why don't 'e come back ? 'E didn't ought to ha' gone off without us.'
Even Ortheris's heart sank at the end of the seventh day, for half the regiment were out scouring the countryside, and Learoyd had been forced to fight two men who hinted openly that Mulvaney had deserted. To do him justice, the colonel laughed at the notion, even when it was put forward by his much'trusted adjutant.
* Mulvaney would as soon think of deserting as
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
you would/ said he. ' No ; he's either fallen into a mischief among the villagers — and yet that isn't likely, for he'd blarney himself out of the Pit ; or else he is engaged on urgent private affairs— some stupendous devilment that we shall hear of at mess after it has been the round of the barrack* rooms. The worst of it is that I shall have to give him twenty^eight days' confinement at least for being absent without leave, just when I most want him to lick the new batch of recruits into shape. I never knew a man who could put a polish on young soldiers as quickly as Mulvaney can. How does he do it ? *
'With blarney and the buckle "end of a belt, sir/ said the adjutant. * He is worth a couple of noncommissioned officers when we are dealing with an Irish draft, and the London lads seem to adore him. The worst of it is that if he goes to the cells the other two are neither to hold nor to bind till he comes out again. I believe Ortheris preaches mutiny on those occasions, and I know that the mere presence of Learoyd mourning for Mulvaney kills all the cheerfulness of his room. The sergeants tell me that he allows no man to laugh when he feels unhappy. They are a queer gang.'
'For all that, I wish we had a few more of them. I like a well-conducted regiment, but these
26
KRISHNA MULVANEY
pasty 'faced, shifty-eyed, mealy-mouthed young slouchers from the depot worry me sometimes with their offensive virtue. They don't seem to have backbone enough to do anything but play cards and prowl round the married quarters. I believe I'd forgive that old villain on the spot if he turned up with any sort of explanation that I could in decency accept/
'Not likely to be much difficulty about that, sir/ said the adjutant * Mulvaney's explanations are only one degree less wonderful than his per* formances. They say that when he was in the Black Tyrone, before he came to us, he was dis- covered on the banks of the Liffey trying to sell his colonel's charger to a Donegal dealer as a perfect lady's hack. Shackbolt commanded the Tyrone then/
'Shackbolt must have had apoplexy at the thought of his ramping war-horses answering to that description. He used to buy unbacked devils, and tame them on some pet theory of starvation. What did Mulvaney say ? '
4 That he was a member of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, anxious to " sell the poor baste where he would get something to fill out his dimples." Shackbolt laughed, but I fancy that was why Mulvaney exchanged to ours/
27
LIFE'S HANDICAP
'I wish he were back/ said the colonel; 'for I like him and believe he likes me/
That evening, to cheer our souls, Learoyd, Ortheris, and I went into the waste to smoke out a porcupine. All the dogs attended, but even their clamour — and they began to discuss the shortcomings of porcupines before they left canton* ments — could not take us out of ourselves. A large, low moon turned the tops of the plume- grass to silver, and the stunted camelthorn bushes and sour tamarisks into the likenesses of trooping devils. The smell of the sun had not left the earth, and little aimless winds blowing across the rose-gardens to the southward brought the scent of dried roses and water. Our fire once started, and the dogs craftily disposed to wait the dash of the porcupine, we climbed to the top of a rain-scarred hillock of earth, and looked across the scrub seamed with cattle paths, white with the long grass, and dotted with spots of level pond -bottom, where the snipe would gather in winter.
'This/ said Ortheris, with a sigh, as he took in the unkempt desolation of it all, 'this is sanguinary. This is unusually sanguinary. Sort o' mad country. Like a grate when the fire's put out by the sun/ He shaded his eyes against the moonlight. 'An there's a loony dancin' in the
28
KRISHNA MULVANEY
middle of it all. Quite right. Yd dance too if I wasn't so downheart.'
There pranced a Portent in the face of the moon — a huge and ragged spirit of the waste, that flapped its wings from afar. It had risen out of the earth ; it was coming towards us, and its out' line was never twice the same. The toga, table' cloth, or dressing 'gown, whatever the creature wore, took a hundred shapes. Once it stopped on a neighbouring mound and flung all its legs and arms to the winds.
'My, but that scarecrow 'as got 'em bad!' said Ortheris. * Seems like if 'e comes any f urder we'll 'ave to argify with 'im.'
Learoyd raised himself from the dirt as a bull clears his flanks of the wallow. And as a bull bellows, so he, after a short minute at gaze, gave tongue to the stars.
'Mulvaaney! Mulvaaneyl A'hoo!'
Oh then it was that we yelled, and the figure dipped into the hollow, till, with a crash of rending grass, the lost one strode up to the light of the fire, and disappeared to the waist in a wave of joyous dogs! Then Learoyd and Ortheris gave greeting, bass and falsetto together, both swallow* ing a lump in the throat.
'You damned fool!' said they, and severally pounded him with their fists.
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
'Go easy!' he answered; wrapping a huge arm round each. M would have you to know that I am a god, to be treated as such — tho', by my faith, I fancy I've got to go to the guardroom just like a privit soldier/
The latter part of the sentence destroyed the suspicions raised by the former. Any one would have been justified in regarding Mulvaney as mad. He was hatless and shoeless, and his shirt and trousers were dropping off him. But he wore one wondrous garment — a gigantic cloak that fell from collar-bone to heel — of pale pink silk, wrought all over in cunningest needlework of hands long since dead, with the loves of the Hindu gods. The monstrous figures leaped in and out of the light of the fire as he settled the folds round him.
Ortheris handled the stuff respectfully for a moment while I was trying to remember where I had seen it before. Then he screamed, 'What 'awe you done with the palanquin ? You're wearin' the lininV
4 1 am,' said the Irishman, 4 an' by the same token the 'broidery is scrapin' my hide off. IVe lived in this sumpshus counterpane for four days. Me son, I begin to ondherstand why the naygur is no use. Widout me boots, an' me trousies like an openwork stocking on a gyurl's leg at a dance,
30
KRISHNA MULVANEY
I begin to feel like a naygurvman — all fearful an' timoreous. Give me a pipe an' I'll tell on/
He lit a pipe, resumed his grip of his two friends, and rocked to and fro in a gale of laughter.
'Mulvaney,' said Ortheris sternly, * 'taint no time for laughin'. You've given Jock an' me more trouble than you're worth. You 'ave been absent without leave an' you'll go into cells for that ; an' you 'ave come back disgustingly dressed an' most improper in the linin' o' that bloomin' palanquin. Instid of which you laugh. An' we thought you was dead all the time.'
'Bhoys,' said the culprit, still shaking gently, * whin I've done my tale you may cry if you like, an' little Orth'ris here can thrample my inside out. Ha' done an' listen. My performinces have been stupenjus : my luck has been the blessed luck av the British army — an' there's no betther than that. I went out dhrunk an' dhrinkin' in the palanquin, and I have come back a pink god. Did any of you go to Dearsley af ther my time was up ? He was at the bottom of ut all.'
* Ah said so,' murmured Learoyd. 4 To-morrow ah'll smash t' face in upon his heead.'
'Ye will not. Dearsley's a jool av a man. Afther Ortheris had put me into the palanquin an' the six bearer-men were gruntin' down the road, I
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
tuk thought to mock Dearsley for that fight. So I tould thim, "Go to the embankmint," and there, bein' most amazin' full, I shtuck my head out av the concern an* passed compliments wid Dearsley. I must ha' miscalled him outrageous, for whin I am that way the power av the tongue comes on me. I can bare remimber tellin' him that his mouth opened endways like the mouth av a skate, which was thrue afther Learoyd had handled ut; an' I clear remimber his takin' no manner nor matter av offence, but givin' me a big dhrink of beer. 'Twas the beer did the thrick, for I crawled back into the palanquin, steppin' on me right ear wid me left foot, an' thin I slept like the dead. Wanst I half^roused, an' begad the noise in my head was tremenjus — roarin' an' rattlin' an' poundin', such as was quite new to me. " Mother av Mercy," thinks I, " phwat a concer* tina I will have on my shoulders whin I wake ! " An' wid that I curls mysilf up to sleep before ut should get hould on me. Bhoys, that noise was not dhrink, 'twas the rattle av a thrain ! '
There followed an impressive pause.
4 Yes, he had put me on a thrain — put me, palanquin an' all, an' six black assassins av his own coolies that was in his nefarious confidence, on the flat av a ballasMhruck, and we were rowlin' an' bowlin' along to Benares. Glory be that I did not
32
KRISHNA MULVANEY
wake up thin an' introjuce mysilf to the coolies. As I was sayin', I slept for the betther part av a day an' a night. But remimber you, that that man Dearsley had packed me off on wan av his material-thrains to Benares, all for to make me overstay my leave an' get me into the cells/
The explanation was an eminently rational one. Benares lay at least ten hours by rail from the cantonments, and nothing in the world could have saved Mulvaney from arrest as a deserter had he appeared there in the apparel of his orgies. Dearsley had not forgotten to take revenge. Learoyd, drawing back a little, began to place soft blows over selected portions of Mulvaney's body. His thoughts were away on the embankment, and they meditated evil for Dearsley* Mulvaney con* tinued —
4 Whin I was full awake the palanquin was set down in a street, I suspicioned, for I cud hear people passin' an' talkin'. But I knew well I was far from home. There is a queer smell upon our cantonments — a smell av dried earth and brick- kilns wid whiffs av cavalry stable-litter. This place smelt marigold flowers an' bad water, an' wanst somethin' alive came an' blew heavy with his muzzle at the chink av the shutter. " It's in a village I am," thinks I to mysilf, " an' the parochial buffalo is investigatin' the palanquin." But any'
L.H. Vol. I 33 D
LIFE'S HANDICAP
ways I had no desire to move. Only lie still whin you're in foreign parts an' the standin' luck av the British Army will carry ye through. That is an epigram. I made ut.
'Thin a lot av whishperin' divils surrounded the palanquin. "Take ut up/' sez wan man. 44 But who'll pay us ? " sez another. " The Maria- ranee's minister, av coorse," sez the man. " Oho ! " sez I to mysilf, " I'm a quane in me own right, wid a minister to pay me expenses. I'll be an emperor if I lie still long enough ; but this is no village I've found." I lay quiet, but I gummed me right eye to a crack av the shutters, an' I saw that the whole street was crammed wid palanquins an' horses, an' a sprinklin' av naked priests all yellow powder an' tigers' tails. But I may tell you, Orth'ris, an' you, Learoyd, that av all the palan- quins ours was the most imperial an' magnificent. Now a palanquin means a native lady all the world over, except whin a soldier av the Quane happens to be takin' a ride. " Women an' priests I " sez I. 44 Your father's son is in the right pew this time, Terence. There will be proceeding." Six black divils in pink muslin tuk up the palanquin, an' oh I but the rowlin' an' the rockin' made me sick. Thin we got fair jammed among the palanquins — not more than fifty av them — an' we grated an' bumped like Queenstown potato-smacks in a runnin'
34
KRISHNA MULVANEY
tide. I cud hear the women gigglin' and squirkin' in their palanquins, but mine was the royal equipage. They made way for ut, an', begad, the pink muslin men o' mine were howling " Room for the Maharanee av Gokral'Seetarun." Do you know aught av the lady, sorr ? '
4 Yes/ said I. 'She is a very estimable old queen of the Central Indian States, and they say she is fat. How on earth could she go to Benares without all the city knowing her palanquin ? '
"Twas the eternal foolishness av the naygur* man. They saw the palanquin lying loneful an* forlornsome, an' the beauty av ut, after Dearsley's men had dhropped ut and gone away, an' they gave ut the best name that occurred to thim. Quite right too. For aught we know the ould lady was thravellin' incog — like me. I'm glad to hear she's fat. I was no light weight mysilf, an' my men were mortial anxious to dhrop me under a great big archway promiscuously ornamented wid the most improper carvin's an' cuttin's I iver saw. Begad! they made me blush — like a — like a Maharanee.'
4 The temple of Prithi ' Devi/ I murmured, remembering the monstrous horrors of that sculp* tured archway at Benares.
4 Pretty Devilskins, savin' your presence, sorr ! There was nothin' pretty about ut, except me*
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
Twas all half dhark, an* whin the coolies left they shut a big black gate behind av us, an' half a company av fat yellow priests began pully-haulin' the palanquins into a dharker place yet — a big stone hall full av pillars, an' gods, an' incense, an' all manner av similar thruck. The gate dis- concerted me, for I perceived I wud have to go forward to get out, my retreat bein' cut off. By the same token a good priest makes a bad palan- quin-coolie. Begad ! they nearly turned me inside out draggin' the palanquin to the temple. Now the disposishin av the forces inside was this way. The Maharanee av Gokral-Seetarun — that was me — lay by the favour av Providence on the far left flank behind the dhark av a pillar carved with elephints' heads. The remainder of the palanquins was in a big half circle facing in to the biggest, fattest, an' most amazin' she-god that iver I dreamed av. Her head ran up into the black above us, an' her feet stuck out in the light av a little fire av melted butter that a priest was feedin' out av a butter-dish. Thin a man began to sing an' play on somethin' back in the dhark, an' 'twas a queer song. Ut made my hair lift on the back av my neck. Thin the doors of all the palanquins slid back, an' the women bundled out. I saw what I'll niver see again. 'Twas more glorious than transformations at a pantomime, for they
36
KRISHNA MULVANEY
was in pink an* blue an' silver an' red an' grass green, wid diamonds an' imralds an' great red rubies all over thim. But that was the least part av the glory. O bhoys, they were more lovely than the like av any loveliness in hiven ; ay, their little bare feet were better than the white hands av a lord's lady, an' their mouths were like puckered roses, an' their eyes were bigger an' dharker than the eyes av any livin' women I've seen. Ye may laugh, but I'm speakin' truth. I niver saw the like, an' niver I will again.'
* Seeing that in all probability you were watching the wives and daughters of most of the kings of India, the chances are that you won't,' I said, for it was dawning on me that Mulvaney had stumbled upon a big Queens' Praying at Benares.
'I niver will/ he said mournfully. 'That sight doesn't come twist to any man. It made me ashamed to watch. A fat priest knocked at my door. I didn't think he'd have the insolince to disturb the Maharanee av Gokral'Seetarun, so I lay still. "The old cow's asleep," sez he to another. "Let her be," sez that. "Twill be long before she has a calf ! " I might ha' known before he spoke that all a woman prays for in Injia — an' for matter o' that in England to — is childher. That made me more sorry I'd come, me bein', as you well know, a childless man/
37
LIFE'S HANDICAP
He was silent for a moment, thinking of his little son, dead many years ago.
'They prayed, an' the butter-fires blazed up, an' the incense turned everything blue, an' between that an' the fires the women looked as tho' they were all ablaze an' twinklin'. They took hold av the she-god's knees, they cried out an' they threw themselves about, an' that world-without-end- amen music was dhrivin' thim mad. Mother av Hiven ! how they cried, an' the ould she-god grinni' above thim all so scornful I The dhrink was dyin' out in me fast, an' I was thinkin' harder than the thoughts wud go through my head — thinkin' how to get out, an' all manner of nonsense as well. The women were rockin' in rows, their di'mond belts clickin', an' the tears runnin' out betune their hands, an' the lights were goin' lower an' dharker. Thin there was a blaze like lightnin' from the roof, an' that showed me the inside av the palanquin, an' at the end where my foot was, stood the livin' spit an' image o' mysilf worked on the linin'. This man here, ut was/
He hunted in the folds of his pink cloak, ran a hand under one, and thrust into the firelight a foot-long embroidered presentment of the great god Krishna, playing on a flute. The heavy jowl, the staring eye, and the blue-black moustache of the god made up a far-off resemblance to Mulvaney.
38
KRISHNA MULVANEY
4 The blaze was gone in a wink, but the whole schame came to me thin. I believe I was mad too. I slid the off-shutter open an' rowled out into the dhark behind the elephint-head pillar, tucked up my trousies to my knees, slipped off my boots an' tuk a general hould av all the pink linin' av the palanquin. Glory be, ut ripped out like a woman's dhriss when you tread on ut at a sergeants' ball, an' a bottle came with ut. I tuk the bottle an' the next minut I was out av the dhark av the pillar, the pink linin' wrapped round me most graceful, the music thunderin' like kettledrums, an' a could draft blowin' round my bare legs. By this hand that did ut, I was Krishna tootlin' on the flute — the god that the rig'rnental chaplain talks about. A sweet sight I must ha' looked. I knew my eyes were big, and my face was wax^ white, an' at the worst I must ha' looked like a ghost. But they took me for the livin' god. The music stopped, and the women were dead dumb, an' I crooked my legs like a shepherd on a china basin, an' I did the ghost'Waggle with my feet as I had done ut at the rig'rnental theatre many times, an' I slid acrost the width av that temple in front av the she-god tootlin' on the beer bottle.'
'Wot did you toot?' demanded Ortheris the practical.
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
' Me ? Oh I ' Mulvaney sprang up, suiting the action to the word, and sliding gravely in front of us, a dilapidated but imposing deity in the half light. 4 1 sang —
1 Only say
You'll be Mrs. Brallaghan. Don't say nay, Charmin' Judy Callaghan.
I didn't know me own voice when I sang. An' oh I 'twas pitiful to see the women. The darlin's were down on their faces. Whin I passed the last wan I cud see her poor little fingers workin' one in another as if she wanted to touch my feet. So I dhrew the tail av this pink overcoat over her head for the greater honour, an' I slid into the dhark on the other side av the temple, and fetched up in the arms av a big fat priest. All I wanted was to get away clear. So I tuk him by his greasy throat an' shut the speech out av him. " Out I " sez I. " Which way, ye fat heathen ? "—" Oh ! " sez he. " Man," sez I. " White man, soldier man, common soldier man. Where in the name av confusion is the back door ? " The women in the temple were still on their faces, an' a young priest was holdin' out his arms above their heads. 4 " This way," sez my fat friend, duckin' behind a big bull'god an' divin' into a passage. Thin I
40
KRISHNA MULVANEY
rcmimbered that I must ha' made the miraculous reputation av that temple for the next fifty years. "Not so fast/' I sez, an' I held out both my hands wid a wink. That ould thief smiled like a father. I tuk him by the back av the neck in case he should be wishful to put a knife into me unbeknowst, an' I ran him up an' down the passage twice to collect his sensibilities ! " Be quiet," sez he, in English. "Now you talk sense," I sez. 44 Fwhat'll you give me for the use av that most iligant palanquin I have no time to take away ? " -"Don't tell," sez he. "Is ut like?" sez L " But ye might give me my railway fare. I'm far from my home an' I've done you a service." Bhoys, 'tis a good thing to be a priest. The ould man niver throubled himself to dhraw from a bank. As I will prove to you subsequint, he philandered all round the slack av his clothes an' began dribblin' ten^rupee notes, old gold mohurs, and rupees into my hand till I could hould no more.'
'You lie!' said Ortheris. 'You're mad or sunstrook. A native don't give coin unless you cut it out o' 'im. Tain't nature.'
'Then my lie an' my sunstroke is concealed under that lump av sod yonder,' retorted Mulvaney unruffled, nodding across the scrub. ' An' there's a dale more in nature than your squidgy little legs have iver taken you to, Orth'ris, me son. Four
41
LIFE'S HANDICAP
hundred an' thirty-four rupees by my reckoning an' a big fat gold necklace that I took from him as a remimbrancer, was our share in that business/
* An' 'e give it you for love ? ' said Ortheris.
* We were alone in that passage. Maybe I was a trifle too pressing but considher fwhat I had done for the good av the temple and the iverlastin' joy av those women. Twas cheap at the price. I wud ha' taken more if I cud ha' found ut. I turned the ould man upside down at the last, but he was milked dhry. Thin he opened a door in another passage an' I found mysilf up to my knees in Benares river «• water, an' bad smellin' ut is. More by token I had come out on the river * line close to the burnin' ghat and contagious to a cracklin' corpse. This was in the heart av the night, for I had been four hours in the temple. There was a crowd av boats tied up, so I tuk wan an' wint across the river. Thin I came home acrost country, lyin' up by day.'
1 How on earth did you manage ? ' I said.
'How did Sir Frederick Roberts get from Cabul to Candahar? He marched an' he niver tould how near he was to breakin' down. That's why he is fwhat he is. An' now — ' Mulvaney yawned portentously. * Now I will go an' give myself up for absince widout leave. It's eight an' twenty days an' the rough end of the colonel's
42
KRISHNA MULVANEY
tongue in orderly room, any way you look at ut, But 'tis cheap at the price/
* Mulvaney/ said I softly. ' If there happens to be any sort of excuse that the colonel can in any way accept, I have a notion that you'll get nothing more than the dressing^down. The new recruits are in, and—
4 Not a word more, sorr. Is ut excuses the old man wants ? Tis not my way, but he shall have thim. I'll tell him I was engaged in financial operations connected wid a church,' and he flapped his way to cantonments and the cells, singing lustily —
' So they sent a corp'ril's file, And they put me in the gyard-room For conduck unbecomin' of a soldier.'
And when he was lost in the mist of the moonlight we could hear the refrain —
' Bang upon the big drum, bash upon the cymbals, As we go marchin' along, boys, oh I For although in this campaign There's no whisky nor champagne, We'll keep our spirits goin' with a song, boys 1 '
Therewith he surrendered himself to the joyful and almost weeping guard, and was made much of by his fellows. But to the colonel he said that he had been smitten with sunstroke and had lain
43
LIFE'S HANDICAP
insensible on a villager's cot for untold hours; and between laughter and goodwill the affair was smoothed over, so that he could, next day, teach the new recruits how to * Fear God, Honour the Queen, Shoot Straight, and Keep Clean.'
44
THE COURTING OF DINAH SHADD
What did the colonel's lady think ?
Nobody never knew. Somebody asked the sergeant's wife
An' she told 'em true. When you git to a man in the case
They're like a row o' pins, For the colonel's lady an' Judy O'Grady
Are sisters under their skins.
Barrack Room Ballad.
ALL day I had followed at the heels of a pur> suing army engaged on one of the finest battles that ever camp of exercise beheld. Thirty thousand troops had, by the wisdom of the Government of India, been turned loose over a few thousand square miles of country to practise in peace what they would never attempt in war. Consequently cavalry charged unshaken infantry at the trot. Infantry captured artillery by frontal attacks delivered in line of quarter
45
LIFE'S HANDICAP
columns, and mounted infantry skirmished up to the wheels of an armoured train which carried nothing more deadly than a twenty^five pounder Armstrong, two Nordenfeldts, and a few score volunteers all cased in three - eighths - inch boiler .• plate. Yet it was a very lifelike camp. Operations did not cease at sundown; nobody knew the country and nobody spared man or horse. There was unending cavalry scouting and almost unending forced work over broken ground. The Army of the South had finally pierced the centre of the Army of the North, and was pouring through the gap hot - foot to capture a city of strategic importance. Its front extended fanwise, the sticks being represented by regiments strung out along the line of route backwards to the divisional transport columns and all the lumber that trails behind an army on the move. On its right the broken left of the Army of the North was flying in mass, chased by the Southern horse and hammered by the Southern guns till these had been pushed far beyond the limits of their last support. Then the flying sat down to rest, while the elated commandant of the pursuing force telegraphed that he held all in check and observation.
Unluckily he did not observe that three miles to his right flank a flying column of Northern
46
THE COURTING OF DINAH SHADD
horse with a detachment of Ghoorkhas and British troops had been pushed round as fast as the failing light allowed, to cut across the entire rear of the Southern Army, — to break, as it were, all the ribs of the fan where they converged by striking at the transport, reserve ammunition, and artillery supplies. Their instructions were to go in, avoid- ing the few scouts who might not have been drawn off by the pursuit, and create sufficient excitement to impress the Southern Army with the wisdom of guarding their own flank and rear before they captured cities. It was a pretty manoeuvre, neatly carried out.
Speaking for the second division of the Southern Army, our first intimation of the attack was at twilight, when the artillery were labouring in deep sand, most of the escort were trying to help them out, and the main body of the infantry had gone on. A Noah's Ark of elephants, camels, and the mixed menagerie of an Indian trans- port-train bubbled and squealed behind the guns, when there appeared from nowhere in particular British infantry to the extent of three companies, who sprang to the heads of the gun-horses and brought all to a standstill amid oaths and cheers.
'How's that, umpire?' said the major com- manding the attack, and with one voice the drivers
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
and limber gunners answered 'Hout!' while the colonel of artillery sputtered,
* All your scouts are charging our main body/ said the major. 4 Your flanks are unprotected for two miles. I think we've broken the back of this division. And listen, — there go the Ghoorkhas I '
A weak fire broke from the rear-guard more than a mile away, and was answered by cheerful howlings. The Ghoorkhas, who should have swung clear of the second division, had stepped on its tail in the dark, but drawing off hastened to reach the next line of attack, which lay almost parallel to us five or six miles away.
Our column swayed and surged irresolutely, — three batteries, the divisional ammunition reserve, the baggage, and a section of the hospital and bearer corps. The commandant ruefully promised to report himself 4 cut up ' to the nearest umpire, and commending his cavalry and all other cavalry to the special care of Eblis, toiled on to resume touch with the rest of the division.
* We'll bivouac here to-night/ said the major. * I have a notion that the Ghoorkhas will get caught. They may want us to re-form on. Stand easy till the transport gets away/
A hand caught my beast's bridle and led him out of the choking dust; a larger hand deftly canted me out of the saddle; and two of the
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THE COURTING OF DINAH SHADD
hugest hands in the world received me sliding. Pleasant is the lot of the special correspondent who falls into such hands as those of Privates Mulvaney, Ortheris, and Learoyd.
4 An' that's all right/ said the Irishman calmly. 4 We thought we'd find you somewheres here by. Is there anything av yours in the transport? Orth'ris'll fetch ut out/
Ortheris did 'fetch ut out/ from under the trunk of an elephant, in the shape of a servant and an animal both laden with medical comforts. The little man's eyes sparkled.
'If the brutil an' licentious soldiery av these parts gets sight av the thruck/ said Mulvaney, making practised investigation, 4 they'll loot ev'ry- thing. They're bein' fed on iron-filin's an' dog- biscuit these days, but glory's no compensation for a belly-ache. Praise be, we're here to protect you, sorr. Beer, sausage, bread (soft an' that's a cur'osity), soup in a tin, whisky by the smell av ut, an' fowls I Mother av Moses, but ye take the field like a confectioner ! Tis scand'lus/
"Ere's a orficer/ said Ortheris significantly. ' When the sergent's done lushin' the privit may clean the pot/
I bundled several things into Mulvaney's haver- sack before the major's hand fell on my shoulder and he said tenderly, 4 Requisitioned for the Queen's
L.H. Vol.1 49 :
LIFE'S HANDICAP
service. Wolseley was quite wrong about special correspondents : they are the soldier's best friends. Come and take pot-luck with us to-night/
And so it happened amid laughter and shoutings that my well-considered commissariat melted away to reappear later at the mess-table, which was a waterproof sheet spread on the ground. The flying column had taken three days' rations with it, and there be few things nastier than Govern* ment rations — especially when Government is experimenting with German toys. Erbswurst, tinned beef of surpassing tinniness, compressed vegetables, and meat-biscuits may be nourishing, but what Thomas Atkins needs is bulk in his inside. The major, assisted by his brother officers, purchased goats for the camp, and so made the experiment of no effect. Long before the fatigue* party sent to collect brushwood had returned, the men were settled down by their valises, kettles and pots had appeared from the surrounding country, and were dangling over fires as the kid and the compressed vegetable bubbled together; there rose a cheerful clinking of mess-tins; out* rageous demands for 'a little more stuffin' with that there liver-wing ' ; and gust on gust of chaff as pointed as a bayonet and as delicate as a gun- butt.
'The boys are in a good temper/ said the
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THE COURTING OF DINAH SHADD
major, 'They'll be singing presently. Well, a night like this is enough to keep them happy/
Over our heads burned the wonderful Indian stars, which are not all pricked in on one plane, but, preserving an orderly perspective, draw the eye through the velvet darkness of the void up to the barred doors of heaven itself. The earth was a gray shadow more unreal than the sky. We could hear her breathing lightly in the pauses between the howling of the jackals, the movement of the wind in the tamarisks, and the fitful mutter of musketry - fire leagues away to the left. A native woman from some unseen hut began to sing, the mail-train thundered past on its way to Delhi, and a roosting crow cawed drowsily. Then there was a belt-loosening silence about the fires, and the even breathing of the crowded earth took up the story.
The men, full fed, turned to tobacco and song, — their officers with them. The subaltern is happy who can win the approval of the musical critics in his regiment, and is honoured among the more intricate step-dancers. By him, as by him who plays cricket cleverly, Thomas Atkins will stand in time of need, when he will let a better officer go on alone. The ruined tombs of forgotten Mussulman saints heard the ballad of Agra Town, The Buffalo Battery, Marching to Kabul, The long,
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
long Indian Day, The Place where the Punkah-coolie died, and that crashing chorus which announces,
Youth's daring spirit, manhood's fire,
Firm hand and eagle eye, Must he acquire, who would aspire
To see the gray boar die.
To 'day, of all those jovial thieves who ap^ propriated my commissariat and lay and laughed round that waterproof sheet, not one remains. They went to camps that were not of exercise and battles without umpires. Burmah, the Soudan, and the frontier, — fever and fight, — took them in their time.
I drifted across to the men's fires in search of Mulvaney, whom I found strategically greasing his feet by the blaze. There is nothing particularly lovely in the sight of a private thus engaged after a long day's march, but when you reflect on the exact proportion of the 4 might, majesty, dominion, and power ' of the British Empire which stands on those feet you take an interest in the proceedings.
* There's a blister, bad luck to ut, on the heel,' said Mulvaney. * I can't touch ut. Prick ut out, little man.'
Ortheris took out his house * wife, eased the trouble with a needle, stabbed Mulvaney in the calf with the same weapon, and was swiftly kicked into the fire.
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THE COURTING OF DINAH SHADD
'I've bruk the best av my toes over you, ye grinnin' child av disruption/ said Mulvaney, sitting cross-legged and nursing his feet; then seeing me, ' Oh, ut's you, sorr ! Be welkim, an' take that maraudin' scutt's place. Jock, hold him down on the cindhers for a bit/
But Ortheris escaped and went elsewhere, as I took possession of the hollow he had scraped for himself and lined with his greatcoat. Learoyd on the other side of the fire grinned affably and in a minute fell fast asleep.
4 There's the height av politeness for you/ said Mulvaney, lighting his pipe with a flaming branch. * But Jock's eaten half a box av your sardines at wan gulp, an' I think the tin too. What's the best wid you, sorr, an' how did you happen to be on the losin' side this day whin we captured you ? '
4 The Army of the South is winning all along the line/ I said.
'Then that line's the hangman's rope, savin' your presence. You'll learn to-morrow how we rethreated to dhraw thim on before we made thim trouble, an' that's what a woman does. By the same tokin, we'll be attacked before the dawnin' an' ut would be betther not to slip your boots. How do I know that? By the light av pure reason. Here are three companies av us ever so far inside av the enemy's flank an' a crowd av
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
roaring taring squealin' cavalry gone on just to turn out the whole hornet's nest av them. Av course the enemy will pursue, by brigades like as not, an' thin we'll have to run for ut. Mark my words. I am av the opinion av Polonius whin he said, " Don't fight wid ivry scutt for the pure joy av fightin', but if you do, knock the nose av him first an' frequint." We ought to ha' gone on an' helped the Ghoorkhas.'
'But what do you know about Polonius?' I demanded. This was a new side of Mulvaney's character.
'All that Shakespeare iver wrote an' a dale more that the gallery shouted,' said the man of war, carefully lacing his boots. 'Did I not tell you av Silver's theatre in Dublin whin I was younger than I am now an' a patron av the drama? Ould Silver wud never pay actor^man or woman their just dues, an' by consequince his comp'nies was collapsible at the last minut. Thin the bhoys wud clamour to take a part, an' oft as not ould Silver made them pay for the fun. Faith, I've seen Hamlut played wid a new black eye an' the queen as full as a cornucopia. I remimber wanst Hogin that 'listed in the Black Tyrone an' was shot in South Africa, he sejuced ould Silver into givin' him Hamlut's part instid av me that had a fine fancy for rhetoric in those days. Av
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THE COURTING OF DINAH SHADD
course I wint into the gallery an' began to fill the pit wid other people's hats, an' I passed the time av day to Hogin walkin' through Denmark like a hamstrung mule wid a pall on his back. "Hamlut," sez I, "there's a hole in your heel. Pull up your shtockin's, Hamlut," sez I. " Hamlut, Hamlut, for the love av decincy dhrop that skull an' pull up your shtockin's." The whole house begun to tell him that. He stopped his solilo- quishms mid-between. "My shtockin's may be comin' down or they may not," sez he, screwin' his eye into the gallery, for well he knew who I was. " But af ther this performince is over me an' the Ghost'll trample the tripes out av you, Terence, wid your ass's bray I " An' that's how I come to know about Hamlut. Eyah I Those days, those days ! Did you iver have onendin' devilmint an' nothin' to pay for it in your life, sorr ? '
' Never, without having to pay,' I said.
* That's thrue 1 Tis mane whin you considher on ut; but ut's the same wid horse or fut. A headache if you dhrink, an' a belly-ache if you eat too much, an' a heart' ache to kape all down. Faith, the beast only gets the colic, an' he's the lucky man.'
He dropped his head and stared into the fire, fingering his moustache the while. From the far side of the bivouac the voice of Corbet-Nolan,
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
senior subaltern of B company, uplifted itself in an ancient and much appreciated song of senti* ment, the men moaning melodiously behind him.
The north wind blew coldly, she drooped from that hour, My own little Kathleen, my sweet little Kathleen, Kathleen, my Kathleen, Kathleen O'Moore I
With fortyxfive O's in the last word: even at that distance you might have cut the soft South Irish accent with a shovel,
4 For all we take we must pay, but the price is cruel high/ murmured Mulvaney when the chorus had ceased.
* What's the trouble ? ' I said gently, for I knew that he was a man of an inextinguishable sorrow.
'Hear now/ said he. 'Ye know what I am now. / know what I mint to be at the beginnin' av my service. I've tould you time an' again, an' what I have not Dinah Shadd has. An' what am I ? Oh, Mary Mother av Hiven, an ould dhrunken, untrustable baste av a privit that has seen the reg'ment change out from colonel to drummer* boy, not wanst or twice, but scores av times ! Ay, scores I An' me not so near gettin' promotion as in the first! An' me livin' on an' kapin' clear av clink, not by my own good conduck, but the kindness av some orf cer-bhoy young enough to be son to me ? Do I not know ut ? Can I not tell whin I'm passed over at p'rade, tho' I'm rockin'
56
THE COURTING OF DINAH SHADD
full av liquor an' ready to fall all in wan piece, such as even a suckin' child might see, bekaze, " Oh, 'tis only ould Mulvaney I " An' whin I'm let off in ord'ly'room through some thrick of the tongue an' a ready answer an' the ould man's mercy, is ut smilin' I feel whin I fall away an' go back to Dinah Shadd, thryin' to carry ut all off as a joke ? Not 1 1 Tis hell to me, dumb hell through ut all ; an' next time whin the fit comes I will be as bad again. Good cause the reg'ment has to know me for the best soldier in ut. Better cause have I to know mesilf for the worst man. I'm only fit to tache the new drafts what I'll niver learn myself; an' I am sure, as tho' I heard ut, that the minut wan av these pink-eyed recruities gets away from my " Mind ye now," an' " Listen to this, Jim, bhoy," — sure I am that the sergint houlds me up to him for a warnin'. So I tache, as they say at musketry-instruction, by direct and ricochet fire. Lord be good to me, for I have stud some throuble 1 '
'Lie down and go to sleep,' said I, not being able to comfort or advise. * You're the best man in the regiment, and, next to Ortheris, the biggest fool. Lie down and wait till we're attacked. What force will they turn out? Guns, think you?'
'Try that wid your lorrds an' ladies, twistin'
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
an' turnin' the talk, tho' you mint ut well. Ye cud say nothin' to help me, an' yet ye niver knew what cause I had to be what I am/
4 Begin at the beginning and go on to the end/ I said royally. 'But rake up the fire a bit first/
I passed Ortheris's bayonet for a poker.
'That shows how little we know what we do/ said Mulvaney, putting it aside. 'Fire takes all the heart out av the steel, an' the next time, may be, that our little man is fighting for his life his bradawl'll break, an' so you'll ha' killed him, manin' no more than to kape yourself warm. 'Tis a recruity's thrick that. Pass the clanin'^rod, sorr/
I snuggled down abashed ; and after an interval the voice of Mulvaney began.
* Did I iver tell you how Dinah Shadd came to be wife av mine ? '
I dissembled a burning anxiety that I had felt for some months — ever since Dinah Shadd, the strong, the patient, and the infinitely tender, had of her own good love and free will washed a shirt for me, moving in a barren land where washing was not.
'I can't remember/ I said casually. 'Was it before or after you made love to Annie Bragin, and got no satisfaction ? '
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THE COURTING OF DINAH SHADD
The story of Annie Bragin is written in another place. It is one of the many less respectable episodes in Mulvaney's chequered career.
4 Before — before — long before, was that business av Annie Bragin an* the corp'ril's ghost. Niver woman was the worse for me whin I had married Dinah. There's a time for all things, an' I know how to kape all things in place — barrin' the dhrink, that kapes me in my place wid no hope av comin' to be aught else/
4 Begin at the beginning/ I insisted. 'Mrs. Mulvaney told me that you married her when you were quartered in Krab Bokhar barracks/
'An' the same is a cess^pit/ said Mulvaney piously. ' She spoke thrue, did Dinah. 'Twas this way. Talkin' av that, have ye iver fallen in love, sorr ? *
I preserved the silence of the damned. MuL vaney continued —
'Thin I will assume that ye have not. / did. In the days av my youth, as I have more than wanst tould you, I was a man that filled the eye an' de' lighted the sowl av women. Niver man was hated as I have bin. Niver man was loved as I — no, not within half a day's march av ut I For the first five years av my service, whin I was what I wud give my sowl to be now, I tuk whatever was within my reach an' digested ut — an' that's more than most
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
men can say. Dhrink I tuk, an' ut did me no harm. By the Hollow av Hiven, I cud play wid four women at wanst, an' kape them from findin' out anythin' about the other three, an' smile like a full-blown marigold through ut all. Dick Coulhan, av the battery we'll have down on us to-night, could drive his team no better than I mine, an' I hild the worser cattle! An' so I lived, an' so I was happy till afther that business wid Annie Bragin — she that turned me off as cool as a meat- safe, an' taught me where I stud in the mind av an honest woman. Twas no sweet dose to swallow.
1 Afther that I sickened awhile an' tuk thought to my reg'mental work ; conceiting mesilf I wud study an' be a sargint, an' a major-gineral twinty minutes afther that. But on top av my ambitious- ness there was an empty place in my sowl, an' me own opinion av mesilf cud not fill ut. Sez I to mesilf, " Terence, you're a great man an' the best set-up in the reg'mint. Go on an' get promotion." Sez mesilf to me, " What for ? " Sez I to mesilf, " For the glory av ut I " Sez mesilf to me, " Will that fill these two strong arrums av yours, Terence?" — "Go to the devil," sez I to mesilf. "Go to the married lines," sez mesilf to me. "Tis the same thing," sez I to mesilf. "Av you're the same man, ut is," said mesilf to me;
60
THE COURTING OF DINAH SHADD
an' wid that I considhered on ut a long while. Did you iver feel that way, sorr ? '
I snored gently, knowing that if Mulvaney were uninterrupted he would go on. The clamour from the bivouac fires beat up to the stars, as the rival singers of the companies were pitted against each other.
'So I felt that way an' a bad time ut was. Wanst, bein' a fool, I wint into the married lines more for the sake av spakin' to our ould colour.- sergint Shadd than for any thruck wid womenfolk. I was a corp'ril then — rejuced aftherwards, but a corp'ril then. I've got a photograft av mesilf to prove ut. " You'll take a cup av tay wid us ? " sez Shadd. ** I will that," I sez, " tho' tay is not my divarsion."
"Twud be better for you if ut were," sez ould Mother Shadd, an' she had ought to know, for Shadd, in the ind av his service, dhrank bung' full each night.
* Wid that I tuk off my gloves — there was pipeclay in thim, so that they stud alone — an' pulled up my chair, lookin' round at the china ornaments an' bits av things in the Shadds' quarters. They were things that belonged to a man, an' no camp'kit, here to-day an' dishipated next. " You're comfortable in this place, sergint," sez I. " 'Tis the wife that did ut, boy," sez he,
61
LIFE'S HANDICAP
pointin' the stem av his pipe to ould Mother Shadd, an' she smacked the top av his bald head apon the compliment. "That manes you want money," sez she.
4 An* thin — an' thin whin the kettle was to be filled, Dinah came in — my Dinah — her sleeves rowled up to the elbow an' her hair in a winkin' glory over her forehead, the big blue eyes beneath twinklin' like stars on a frosty night, an' the tread av her two feet lighter than waste^paper from the colonel's basket in ord'ly<room whin ut's emptied. Bein' but a shlip av a girl she went pink at seein' me, an' I twisted me moustache an' looked at a picture forninst the wall. Niver show a woman that ye care the snap av a finger for her, an' begad she'll come bleatin' to your boot'heels ! '
'I suppose that's why you followed Annie Bragin till everybody in the married quarters laughed at you,' said I, remembering that un* hallowed wooing and casting off the disguise of drowsiness.
'I'm layin' down the gin'ral theory av the attack,' said Mulvaney, driving his boot into the dying fire. 'If you read the Soldier's Pocket Book, which niver any soldier reads, you'll see that there are exceptions. Whin Dinah was out av the door (an' 'twas as tho' the sunlight had shut too) — " Mother av Hiven, sergint," sez I, " but is that
62
THE COURTING OF DINAH SHADD
your daughter ?" — "I've believed that way these eighteen years/' sez ould Shadd, his eyes twinklin' ; " but Mrs. Shadd has her own opinion, like iv'ry woman."- ''Tis wid yours this time, for a mericle/' sez Mother Shadd. " Thin why in the name av fortune did I niver see her before ? " sez I. " Bekaze you've been thrapesin' round wid the married women these three years past. She was a bit av a child till last year, an' she shot up wid the spring," sez ould Mother Shadd. "I'll thrapese no more," sez I. " D'you mane that ? " sez ould Mother Shadd, lookin' at me side^ways like a hen looks at a hawk whin the chickens are runnin' free. "Try me, an' tell," sez I. Wid that I pulled on my gloves, dhrank off the tay, an' went out av the house as stiff as at gin'ral p'rade, for well I knew that Dinah Shadd's eyes were in the small av my back out av the scullery window. Faith I that was the only time I mourned I was not a cav'l'ry man for the pride av the spurs to jingle. * I wint out to think, an' I did a powerful lot av thinkin', but ut all came round to that shlip av a girl in the dotted blue dhress, wid the blue eyes an' the sparkil in them. Thin I kept off canteen, an' I kept to the married quarthers, or near by, on the chanst av meetin' Dinah. Did I meet her ? Oh, my time past, did I not ; wid a lump in my throat as big as my valise an' my heart goin'
63
LIFE'S HANDICAP
like a farrier's forge on a Saturday morning? Twas " Good day to ye, Miss Dinah/' an " Good day t'you, corp'ril," for a week or two, and divil a bit further could I get bekaze av the respect I had to that girl that I cud ha' broken betune finger an' thumb.'
Here I giggled as I recalled the gigantic figure of Dinah Shadd when she handed me my shirt.
4 Ye may laugh/ grunted Mulvaney. * But I'm speakin' the trut', an' 'tis you that are in fault. Dinah was a girl that wud ha' taken the imperious- ness out av the Duchess av Clonmel in those days. Flower hand, foot av shod air, an' the eyes av the livin' mornin' she had that is my wife to-day — ould Dinah, and niver aught else than Dinah Shadd to me.
4 Twas after three weeks standin' off an' on, an' niver makin' headway excipt through the eyes, that a little drummer-boy grinned in me face whin I had admonished him wid the buckle av my belt for riotin' all over the place. " An' I'm not the only wan that doesn't kape to barricks," sez he. I tuk him by the scruff av his neck, — my heart was hung on a hair-thrigger those days, you will onderstand — an' " Out wid ut," sez I, " or I'll lave no bone av you unbreakable." — " Speak to Dempsey," sez he howlin'. " Dempsey which ? " sez I, 4t ye un- washed limb av Satan." — "Av the Bob-tailed
64
THE COURTING OF DINAH SHADD
Dhragoons," sez he. " He's seen her home from her aunt's house in the civil lines four times this fortnight." — " Child I " sez I, dhroppin' him, " your tongue's stronger than your body. Go to your quarters. I'm sorry I dhressed you down."
'At that I went four ways to wanst huntinr Dempsey. I was mad to think that wid all my airs among women I shud ha' been chated by a basinx faced fool av a cav'lryman not fit to trust on a trunk. Presintly I found him in our lines — the Bobtails was quartered next us — an' a tallowy, topheavy son av a she^mule he was wid his big brass spurs an' his plastrons on his epigastrons an' all. But he niver flinched a hair.
4 " A word wid you, Dempsey," sez I. u You've walked wid Dinah Shadd four times this fortnight gone."
4 "What's that to you?" sez he. "I'll walk forty times more, an' forty on top av that, ye shovel'futted clod'breakin' infantry lance^corp'ril."
4 Before I cud gyard he had his gloved fist home on my cheek an' down I went full-sprawl. 4t Will that content you ? " sez he, blowin' on his knuckles for all the world like a Scots Greys orf'cer. "Content I" sez I. "For your own sake, man, take off your spurs, peel your jackut, an' onglove. Tis the beginnin' av the overture ; stand up ! "
4 He stud all he know, but he niver peeled his
L.H. Vol.1 65 F
LIFE'S HANDICAP
jacket, an' his shoulders had no fair play. I was f ightin' for Dinah Shadd an' that cut on my cheek. What hope had he forninst me ? " Stand up," sez I, time an' again whin he was beginnin' to quarter the ground an' gyard high an' go large. "This isn't ridin'-school," I sez. " O man, stand up an' let me get in at ye." But whin I saw he wud be runnin' about, I grup his shtock in my left an' his waist-belt in my right an' swung him clear to my right front, head undher, he hammerin' my nose till the wind was knocked out av him on the bare ground. "Stand up," sez I, "or I'll kick your head into your chest I " and I wud ha' done ut too, so ragin' mad I was.
4 " My collar-bone's bruk," sez he. " Help me back to lines. I'll walk wid her no more." So I helped him back.'
* And was his collar-bone broken ? ' I asked, for I fancied that only Learoyd could neatly accom< plish that terrible throw.
4 He pitched on his left shoulder -point. Ut was. Next day the news was in both barricks, an' whin I met Dinah Shadd wid a cheek on me like all the reg'mintal tailor's samples there was no "Good mornin', corp'ril," or aught else. "An' what have I done, Miss Shadd," sez I, very bould, plantin' mesilf forninst her, "that ye should not pass the time of day ? "
66
THE COURTING OF DINAH SHADD
'"Ye've half ^killed rough-rider Dempsey," sez she, her dear blue eyes fillin' up.
* " May be/' sez I. " Was he a friend av yours that saw ye home four times in the fortnight ? "
'"Yes," sez she, but her mouth was down at the corners. " An' — an' what's that to you ? " she sez.
4 " Ask Dempsey," sez I, purtendin' to go away.
4 4t Did you fight for me then, ye silly man ? " she sez, tho' she knew ut all along.
'"Who else?" sez I, an' I tuk wan pace to the front.
4 4i I wasn't worth ut," sez she, f ingerin' in her apron.
'" That's for me to say," sez I. "Shall I say ut?"
'"Yes," sez she in a saint's whisper, an' at that I explained mesilf; and she tould me what ivry man that is a man, an' many that is a woman, hears wanst in his life.
'"But what made ye cry at startin', Dinah, darlin'?"sezl.
'"Your — your bloody cheek," sez she, duckin' her little head down on my sash (I was on duty for the day) an' whimperin' like a sorrowful angil.
'Now a man cud take that two ways. I tuk ut as pleased me best an' my first kiss wid ut. Mother av Innocence! but I kissed her on the
67
LIFE'S HANDICAP
tip av the nose an' undher the eye \ an' a girl that lets a kiss come tumbleways like that has never been kissed before. Take note av that, sorr. Thin we wint hand in hand to ould Mother Shadd like two little childher, an* she said 'twas no bad thing, an' ould Shadd nodded behind his pipe an' Dinah ran away to her own room. That day I throd on rollin' clouds. All earth was too small to hould me. Begad, I cud ha' hiked the sun out av the sky for a live coal to my pipe, so magnify cent I was. But I tuk recruities at squad'drill instid, an' began wid general battalion advance whin I shud ha' been balance - steppin' them. Eyah ! that day ! that day I '
A very long pause. * Well ? ' said I.
"Twas all wrong,' said Mulvaney, with an enormous sigh. * An' I know that ev'ry bit av ut was my own foolishness. That night I tuk maybe the half av three pints — not enough to turn the hair of a man in his natural senses. But I was more than half drunk wid pure joy, an' that canteen beer was so much whisky to me. I can't tell how it came about, but behave I had no thought for anywan except Dinah, behave I hadn't slipped her little white arms from my neck five minuts, behave the breath of her kiss was not gone from my mouth, I must go through the married lines on my way to quarters, an' I must stay talkin'
68
THE COURTING OF DINAH SHADD
to a red'headed Mullingar heifer av a girl, Judy Sheehy, that was daughter to Mother Sheehy, the wife of Nick Sheehy, the canteen * sergint — the Black Curse av Shielygh be on the whole brood that are above groun' this day I
"An' what are ye houldin' your head that high for, corp'ril?" sez Judy. "Come in an' thry a cup av tay," she sez, standin' in the door* way. Bein' an ontrustable fool, an' thinkin' av anything but tay, I wint.
'"Mother's at canteen," sez Judy, smoothin' the hair av hers that was like red snakes, an' lookin' at me corner^ways out av her green cats' eyes. " Ye will not mind, corp'ril ? "
'"I can endure," sez I; ould Mother Sheehy bein' no divarsion av mine, nor her daughter too. Judy fetched the tea things an' put thim on the table, leanin' over me very close to get thim square. I dhrew back, thinkin' av Dinah.
"Is ut afraid you are av a girl alone?" sez Judy.
" No," sez I. " Why should I be ? "
"That rests wid the girl," sez Judy, dhrawin' her chair next to mine.
'"Thin there let ut rest," sez I; an' thinkin' I'd been a trifle onpolite, I sez, "The tay's not quite sweet enough for my taste. Put your little finger in the cup, Judy. 'Twill make ut necthar."
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
'" What's necthar?"sez she.
'"Somethin' very sweet/' sez I; an' for the sinful life av me I could not help lookin' at her out av the corner av my eye, as I was used to look at a woman.
* " Go on wid ye, corp'ril," sez she. " You're a flirrt."
4 " On me sowl I'm not," sez I.
* " Then you're a cruel handsome man, an' that's worse," sez she, heaving big sighs an' lookin' crossways.
4 " You know your own mind," sez I.
'"Twud be better for me if I did not," she sez.
444 There's a dale to be said on both sides av that," sez I, unthinkin'.
'"Say your own part av ut, then, Terence, darlin'," sez she; "for begad I'm thinkin* I've said too much or too little for an honest girl/' an' wid that she put her arms round my neck an' kissed me.
* " There's no more to be said af ther that/' sez I, kissin' her back again — Oh the mane scutt that I was, my head ringin' wid Dinah Shadd ! How does ut come about, sorr, that when a man has put the comether on wan woman, he's sure bound to put it on another? Tis the same thing at musketry. Wan day ivry shot goes wide or into
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THE COURTING OF DINAH SHADD
the bank, an' the next, lay high lay low, sight or snap, ye can't get off the bull's-eye for ten shots runnin'.'
'That only happens to a man who has had a good deal of experience. He does it without thinking,' I replied.
'Thankin' you for the complimint, sorr, ut may be so. But I'm doubtful whether you mint ut for a complimint. Hear now ; I sat there wid Judy on my knee tellin' me all manner av nonsinse an' only sayin' " yes " an' " no/' when I'd much better ha' kept tongue betune teeth. An' that was not an hour afther I had left Dinah I What I was thinkin' av I cannot say. Presintly, quiet as a cat, ould Mother Sheehy came in velvet' dhrunk. She had her daughter's red hair, but 'twas bald in patches, an' I cud see in her wicked ould face, clear as lightnin', what Judy wud be twenty years to come. I was for jumpin' up, but Judy niver moved.
" Terence has promust, mother," sez she, an' the could sweat bruk out all over me. Ould Mother Sheehy sat down of a heap an' began playin' wid the cups. "Thin you're a well' matched pair," she sez very thick. "For he's the biggest rogue that iver spoiled the Queen's shoe'leather," an'
4 "I'm off, Judy," sez I. "Ye should not
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
talk nonsinse to your mother. Get her to bed,
girl"
* " Nonsinse ! " sez the ould woman, prickin' up her ears like a cat an' grippin' the table-edge. " 'Twill be the most nonsinsical nonsinse for you, ye grinnin' badger, if nonsinse 'tis. Git clear, you. I'm goin' to bed/'
4 1 ran out into the dhark, my head in a stew an' my heart sick, but I had sinse enough to see that I'd brought ut all on mysilf. " It's this to pass the time av day to a panjandhrum av hell- cats," sez I. " What I've said, an' what I've not said do not matther. Judy an' her dam will hould me for a promust man, an' Dinah will give me the go, an' I desarve ut. I will go an' get dhrunk," sez I, " an' forget about ut, for 'tis plain I'm not a marrin' man."
4 On my way to canteen I ran against Lascelles, colour-sergeant that was av E Comp'ny, a hard, hard man, wid a torment av a wife. " You've the head av a drowned man on your shoulders," sez he j " an' you're goin' where you'll get a worse wan. Come back," sez he. " Let me go," sez I. " I've thrown my luck over the wall wid my own hand I " — " Then that's not the way to get ut back again," sez he. " Have out wid your throuble, ye fool-bhoy." An' I tould him how the matther was.
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THE COURTING OF DINAH SHADD
4 He sucked in his lower lip. "You've been thrapped," sez he. "Ju Sheehy wud be the betther for a man's name to hers as soon as can. An' ye thought ye'd put the comether on her, — that's the natural vanity of the baste. Terence, you're a big born fool, but you're not bad enough to marry into that comp'ny. If you said any thin', an' for all your protestations I'm sure ye did — or did not, which is worse, — eat ut all — lie like the father of all lies, but come out av ut free av Judy. Do I not know what ut is to marry a woman that was the very spit an' image av Judy whin she was young? I'm gettin' old an' I've larnt patience, but you, Terence, you'd raise hand on Judy an' kill her in a year. Never mind if Dinah gives you the go, you've desarved utj never mind if the whole reg'mint laughs you all day. Get shut av Judy an' her mother. They can't dhrag you to church, but if they do, they'll dhrag you to hell. Go back to your quarters and lie down," sez he. Thin over his shoulder, " You must ha' done with thim."
* Next day I wint to see Dinah, but there was no tucker in me as I walked. I knew the throuble wud come soon enough widout any handlin' av mine, an' I dreaded ut sore.
'"I heard Judy callin' me, but I hild straight on to the Shadds' quarthers, an' Dinah wud ha' kissed me but I put her back.
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
'"Whin all's said, darlin'," sez I, "you can give ut me if ye will, tho' I misdoubt 'twill be so easy to come by then."
* I had scarce begun to put the explanation into shape before Judy an' her mother came to the door. I think there was a veranda, but I'm forgettin'.
* " Will ye not step in ? " sez Dinah, pretty and polite, though the Shadds had no dealin's with the Sheehys. Old mother Shadd looked up quick, an' she was the fust to see the throublej for Dinah was her daughter.
4 " I'm pressed for time to-day," sez Judy as bould as brass ; " an' I've only come for Terence, — my promust man. 'Tis strange to find him here the day afther the day."
4 Dinah looked at me as though I had hit her, an' I answered straight.
"There was some nonsinse last night at the Sheehys' quarthers, an' Judy's carryin' on the joke, darlin'," sez I.
'"At the Sheehys' quarthers ?" sez Dinah very slow, an' Judy cut in wid : " He was there from nine till ten, Dinah Shadd, an' the betther half av that time I was sittin' on his knee, Dinah Shadd. Ye may look and ye may look an' ye may look me up an' down, but ye won't look away that Terence is my promust man. Terence, darlin', 'tis time for us to be comin' home."
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THE COURTING OF DINAH SHADD
* Dinah Shadd niver said word to Judy. " Ye left me at half-past eight/' she sez to me, " an' I niver thought that ye'd leave me for Judy, — promises or no promises. Go back wid her, you that have to be fetched by a girl I I'm done with you/' sez she, and she ran into her own room, her mother followin'. So I was alone wid those two women and at liberty to spake my sentiments.
4 " Judy Sheehy," sez I, " if you made a fool av me betune the lights you shall not do ut in the day. I niver promised you words or lines."
' " You lie/' sez ould Mother Sheehy, " an' may ut choke you where you stand I" She was far gone in dhrink.
4 4t An' tho' ut choked me where I stud I'd not change," sez I. " Go home, Judy. I take shame for a decent girl like you dhraggin' your mother out bare-headed on this errand. Hear now, and have ut for an answer. I gave my word to Dinah Shadd yesterday, an', more blame to me, I was wid you last night talkin' nonsinse but nothin' more. You've chosen to thry to hould me on ut. I will not be held thereby for anythin' in the world. Is that enough ? "
'Judy wint pink all over. "An' I wish you joy av the perjury," sez she, duckin' a curtsey. " You've lost a woman that would ha' wore her hand to the bone for your pleasure; an' 'deed,
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
Terence, ye were not thrapped. . . ." Lascelles must ha' spoken plain to her. " I am such as Dinah is — 'deed I am ! Ye've lost a fool av a girl that'll niver look at you again, an' ye've lost what ye niver had, — your common honesty. If you manage your men as you manage your love-makin', small wondher they call you the worst corp'ril in the comp'ny. Come away, mother," sez she.
* But divil a f ut would the ould woman budge ! "D'you hould by that?" sez she, peerin' up under her thick gray eyebrows.
4 " Ay, an' wud," sez I, 4i tho' Dinah gave me the go twinty times. I'll have no thruck with you or yours," sez I. "Take your child away, ye shameless woman."
4 " An' am I shameless ? " sez she, bringin' her hands up above her head. " Thin what are you, ye lyin', schamin', weak-kneed, dhirty^souled son av a sutler? Am / shameless? Who put the open shame on me an' my child that we shud go beggin' through the lines in the broad daylight for the broken word of a man ? Double portion of my shame be on you, Terence Mulvaney, that think yourself so strong ! By Mary and the saints, by blood and water an' by ivry sorrow that came into the world since the beginnin', the black blight fall on you and yours, so that you may niver be free from pain for another when ut's not your
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THE COURTING OF DINAH SHADD
own! May your heart bleed in your breast drop by drop wid all your friends laughin' at the bleedin'l Strong you think yourself? May your strength be a curse to you to dhrive you into the divil's hands against your own will! Clear.* eyed you are ? May your eyes see clear evry step av the dark path you take till the hot cindhers av hell put thim out I May the ragin' dry thirst in my own ould bones go to you that you shall niver pass bottle full nor glass empty, God preserve the light av your onderstandin' to you, my jewel av a bhoy, that ye may niver forget what you mint to be an* do, whin you're wallowin' in the muck I May ye see the betther and follow the worse as long as there's breath in your body ; an' may ye die quick in a strange land, watchin' your death before ut takes you, an' enable to stir hand or foot ! "
4 1 heard a scufflin' in the room behind, and thin Dinah Shadd's hand dhropped into mine like a rose'leaf into a muddy road.
'"The half av that I'll take/' sez she, "an' more too if I can. Go home, ye silly talkin' woman, — go home an' confess."
'"Come away! Come away!" sez Judy, pullin' her mother by the shawl. "Twas none av Terence's fault. For the love av Mary stop the talkin' I"
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
'"An" you I" said ould Mother Sheeny, spinnin' round forninst Dinah. "Will ye take the half av that man's load ? Stand off from him, Dinah Shadd, before he takes you down too — you that look to be a quarther^master^sergeant's wife in five years. You look too high, child. You shall wash for the quarther^master^sergeant, whin he plases to give you the job out av charity ; but a priviYs wife you shall be to the end, an' evry sorrow of a privit's wife you shall know and niver a joy but wan, that shall go from you like the running tide from a rock. The pain av bearin' you shall know but niver the pleasure av giving the breast; an' you shall put away a man-child into the common ground wid niver a priest to say a prayer over him, an' on that man-child ye shall think ivry day av your life. Think long, Dinah Shadd, for you'll niver have another tho' you pray till your knees are bleedin'. The mothers av childer shall mock you behind your back when you're wringing over the wash-tub. You shall know what ut is to help a dhrunken husband home an' see him go to the gyard'room. Will that plase you, Dinah Shadd, that won't be seen talkin' to my daughter ? You shall talk to worse than Judy before all's over. The sergints' wives shall look down on you contemptuous, daughter av a sergint, an' you shall cover ut all up wid a smiling
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THE COURTING OF DINAH SHADD
face whin your heart's burstin'. Stand off av him, Dinah Shadd, for I've put the Black Curse of Shielygh upon him an' his own mouth shall make ut good."
'She pitched forward on her head an' began foamin' at the mouth. Dinah Shadd ran out wid water, an' Judy dhragged the ould woman into the veranda till she sat up.
'"I'm old an' forlore," she sezt thremblin' an' cryin', "and 'tis like I say a dale more than I mane/'
4 "When you're able to walk, — go," says ould Mother Shadd. " This house has no place for the likes av you that have cursed my daughter."
'"Eyah!" said the ould woman. "Hard words break no bones, an' Dinah Shadd '11 kape the love av her husband till my bones are green corn. Judy darlin', I misremember what I came here for. Can you lend us the bottom av a taycup av tay, Mrs. Shadd?"
4 But Judy dhragged her off cryin' as tho' her heart wud break. An' Dinah Shadd an' I, in ten minutes we had forgot ut all.'
'Then why do you remember it now?' said I.
'Is ut like I'd forget? Ivry word that wicked ould woman spoke fell thrue in my life afther* wards, an' I cud ha' stud ut all — stud ut all, —
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
excipt when my little Shadd was born. That was on the line av march three months afther the regiment was taken with cholera. We were be- tune Umballa an' Kalka thin, an' I was on picket. Whin I came off duty the women showed me the child, an' ut turned on uts side an' died as I looked. We buried him by the road, an' Father Victor was a day's march behind wid the heavy baggage, so the comp'ny captain read a prayer. An' since then I've been a childless man, an' all else that ould Mother Sheehy put upon me an' Dinah Shadd. What do you think, sorr ? '
I thought a good deal, but it seemed better then to reach out for Mulvaney's hand. The demonstration nearly cost me the use of three fingers. Whatever he knows of his weaknesses, Mulvaney is entirely ignorant of his strength.
'But what do you think?' he repeated, as I was straightening out the crushed fingers.
My reply was drowned in yells and outcries from the next fire, where ten men were shouting for 'Orth'ris,' 'Privit Orth'ris,' 'Mistah Or— ther -risl' 'Deah boy/ 'Cap'n Orth'ris,' 'Field. Marshal Orth'ris,' 'Stanley, you pen'north o' pop, come 'ere to your own comp'ny!' And the cockney, who had been delighting another audience with recondite and Rabelaisian yarns, was shot down among his admirers by the major force.
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THE COURTING OF DINAH SHADD
'You've crumpled my dress ^ shirt 'orrid,' said he, * an' I shan't sing no more to this 'ere bloomin' drawin'^room.'
Learoyd, roused by the confusion, uncoiled himself, crept behind Ortheris, and slung him aloft on his shoulders.
'Sing, ye bloomin' hummin' bird I' said he, and Ortheris, beating time on Learoyd's skull, delivered himself, in the raucous voice of the Ratclif f e Highway, of this song : —
My girl she give me the go onst,
When I was a London lad, An' I went on the drink for a fortnight,
An' then I went to the bad. The Queen she give me a shillin'
To fight for 'er over the seas ; But Guv'ment built me a fever'trap,
An' Injia give me disease.
Chorus.
Ho I don't you 'eed what a girl says, An' don't you go for the beer ;
But I was an ass when I was at grass, An' that is why I'm here.
I fired a shot at a Afghan,
The beggar 'e fired again, An' I lay on my bed with a 'ole in my 'ed,
An' missed the next campaign 1
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
I up with my gun at a Burman
Who carried a bloomin' dah, But the cartridge stuck and the bay'nit bruk,
An' all I got was the scar.
Chorus.
Ho I don't you aim at a Afghan,
When you stand on the sky-line clear ;
An' don't you go for a Burman If none o' your friends is near.
I served my time for a corp'ral,
An' wetted my stripes with pop, For I went on the bend with a intimate friend,
An' finished the night in the ' shop.' I served my time for a sergeant ;
The colonel 'e sez ' No I The most you'll see is a full C.B.' 1
An' . . . very next night 'twas so.
Chorus.
Ho I don't you go for a corp'ral
Unless your 'ed is clear ; But I was an ass when I was at grass,
An' that is why I'm 'ere.
I've tasted the luck o' the army
In barrack an' camp an' clink, An' I lost my tip through the bloomin' trip
Along o' the women an' drink.
1 Confined to barracks.
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THE COURTING OF DINAH SHADD
I'm down at the heel o' my service, An' when I am laid on the shelf,
My very wust friend from beginning to end By the blood of a mouse was myself I
Chorus
Ho I don't you 'eed what a girl says, An' don't you go for the beer ;
But I was an ass when I was at grass An' that is why I'm 'ere.
'Ay, listen to our little man now, singin' an' shoutin' as tho' trouble had niver touched him. D' you remember when he went mad with the home'Sickness ? ' said Mulvaney, recalling a never^ to - be * forgotten season when Ortheris waded through the deep waters of affliction and behaved abominably. * But he's talkin' bitter truth, though. Eyah!
' My very worst frind from beginnin' to ind By the blood av a mouse was mesilf 1 '
When I woke I saw Mulvaney, the night'dew gemming his moustache, leaning on his rifle at picket, lonely as Prometheus on his rock, with I know not what vultures tearing his liver.
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ON GREENHOW HILL
To Love's low voice she lent a careless ear ;
Her hand within his rosy fingers lay,
A chilling weight. She would not turn or hear ;
But with averted face went on her way.
But when pale Death, all featureless and grim,
Lifted his bony hand, and beckoning
Held out his cypress-wreath, she followed him,
And Love was left forlorn and wondering,
That she who for his bidding would not stay,
At Death's first whisper rose and went away.
Rivals.
Ahmed Din! Shafiz Ullah ahoo / Bahadur Khan, where are you ? Come out of the tents, as I have done, and fight against the English. Don't kill your own kin! Come out to me I '
The deserter from a native corps was crawling round the outskirts of the camp, firing at intervals, and shouting invitations to his old comrades. Mis- led by the rain and the darkness, he came to the
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English wing of the camp, and with his yelping and rifk'practice disturbed the men. They had been making roads all day, and were tired.
Ortheris was sleeping at Learoyd's feet. 4 Wot's all that ? ' he said thickly. Learoyd snored, and a Snider bullet ripped its way through the tent wall. The men swore. ' It's that bloomin' deserter from the Aurangabadis,' said Ortheris. * Git up, some one, an' tell 'im 'e's come to the wrong shop/
4 Go to sleep, little man/ said Mulvaney, who was steaming nearest the door. * I can't arise an' expaytiate with him. 'Tis rainin' entrenchin' tools outside/
' 'Tain't because you bloomin' can't. It's 'cause you bloomin' won't, ye long, limp, lousy, lazy beggar, you. 'Ark to 'im 'owlin' I '
'Wot's the good of argifying? Put a bullet into the swine I 'E's keepin' us awake I' said another voice.
A subaltern shouted angrily, and a dripping sentry whined from the darkness —
"Tain't no good, sir. I can't see 'im. 'E's 'idin' somewhere down 'ill/
Ortheris tumbled out of his blanket. 4 Shall I try to get 'im, sir ? ' said he.
'No,' was the answer. 'Lie down. I won't have the whole camp shooting all round the clock. Tell him to go and pot his friends/
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Ortheris considered for a moment* Then, put' ting his head under the tent wall, he called, as a 'bus conductor calls in a block, * 'Igher up, there ! 'Igher up I '
The men laughed, and the laughter was carried down wind to the deserter, who, hearing that he had made a mistake, went off to worry his own regiment half a mile away. He was received with shots ; the Aurangabadis were very angry with him for disgracing their colours.
' An' that's all right,' said Ortheris, withdrawing his head as he heard the hiccough of the Sniders in the distance. 4 S'elp me Gawd, tho', that man's not fit to live — messin' with my beauty-sleep this way.'
* Go out and shoot him in the morning, then,' said the subaltern incautiously. * Silence in the tents now. Get your rest, men/
Ortheris lay down with a happy little sigh, and in two minutes there was no sound except the rain on the canvas and the all-embracing and elemental snoring of Learoyd.
The camp lay on a bare ridge of the Himalayas, and for a week had been waiting for a flying column to make connection. The nightly rounds of the deserter and his friends had become a nuisance.
In the morning the men dried themselves in hot
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ON GREENHOW HILL
sunshine and cleaned their grimy accoutrements. The native regiment was to take its turn of road' making that day while the Old Regiment loafed.
4 I'm goin' to lay for a shot at that man/ said Ortheris, when he had finished washing out his rifle. 4 'E comes up the watercourse every evenin' about five o'clock. If we go and lie out on the north 'ill a bit this afternoon we'll get 'im.'
4 You're a bloodthirsty little mosquito/ said Mulvaney, blowing blue clouds into the air. 4 But I suppose I will have to come wid you. Fwhere's Jock?'
'Gone out with the Mixed Pickles, 'cause 'e thinks 'isself a bloomin' marksman/ said Ortheris with scorn.
The 'Mixed Pickles' were a detachment of picked shots, generally employed in clearing spurs of hills when the enemy were too impertinent. This taught the young officers how to handle men, and did not do the enemy much harm. Mulvaney and Ortheris strolled out of camp, and passed the Aurangabadis going to their road-making.
'You've got to sweat to-day/ said Ortheris genially. ' We're going to get your man. You didn't knock 'im out last night by any chance, any of you ? '
4 No. The pig went away mocking us. I had one shot at him/ said a private. ' He's my cousin,
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and / ought to have cleared our dishonour. But good luck to you/
They went cautiously to the north hill, Ortheris leading, because, as he explained, * this is a long' range show, an' I've got to do it/ His was an almost passionate devotion to his rifle, whom, by barrack' room report, he was supposed to kiss every night before turning in. Charges and scuffles he held in contempt, and, when they were inevitable, slipped between Mulvaney and Learoyd, bidding them to fight for his skin as well as their own. They never failed him. He trotted along, questing like a hound on a broken trail, through the wood of the north hill. At last he was satisfied, and threw himself down on the soft pine-needled slope that commanded a clear view of the watercourse and a brown, bare hillside beyond it. The trees made a scented darkness in which an army corps could have hidden from the sun-glare without.
"Ere's the tail o' the wood/ said Ortheris. "E's got to come up the watercourse, 'cause it gives 'im cover. We'll lay 'ere. Tain't not arf so bloomin' dusty neither.'
He buried his nose in a clump of scentless white violets. No one had come to tell the flowers that the season of their strength was long past, and they had bloomed merrily in the twilight of the pines.
88
ON GREENHOW HILL
'This is something like/ he said luxuriously. 'Wot a 'evinly clear drop for a bullet acrost. How much d'you make it, Mulvaney ? '
'Seven hunder. Maybe a trifle less, bekaze the air's so thin/
Wop! wop! wop! went a volley of musketry on the rear face of the north hill.
'Curse them Mixed Pickles firm' at nothin'I They'll scare arf the country/
' Thry a sightin' shot in the middle of the row/ said Mulvaney, the man of many wiles. ' There's a red rock yonder he'll be sure to pass. Quick I '
Ortheris ran his sight up to six hundred yards and fired. The bullet threw up a feather of dust by a clump of gentians at the base of the rock.
'Good enoughl' said Ortheris, snapping the scale down. ' You snick your sights to mine or a little lower. You're always firin' high. But remember, first shot to me. O Lordy ! but it's a lovely afternoon/
The noise of the firing grew louder, and there was a tramping of men in the wood. The two lay very quiet, for they knew that the British soldier is desperately prone to fire at anything that moves or calls. Then Learoyd appeared, his tunic ripped across the breast by a bullet, looking ashamed of himself. He flung down on the pine* needles, breathing in snorts.
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
4 One o' them damned gardeners o' th' Pickles/ said he, fingering the rent 'Firin' to th' right flank, when he knowed I was there. If I knew who he was I'd 'a' rippen the hide offan him. Look at ma tunic I '
4 That's the spishil trustability av a marksman. Train him to hit a fly wid a stiddy rest at seven hunder, an' he loose on anythin' he sees or hears up to th' mile. You're well out av that fancy- firm' gang, Jock. Stay here.'
* Bin firin' at the bloomin' wind in the bloomin' treetops,' said Ortheris with a chuckle. 'I'll show you some firin' later on.'
They wallowed in the pine-needles, and the sun warmed them where they lay. The Mixed Pickles ceased firing, and returned to camp, and left the wood to a few scared apes. The watercourse lifted up its voice in the silence, and talked foolishly to the rocks. Now and again the dull thump of a blasting charge three miles away told that the Aurangabadis were in difficulties with their road- making. The men smiled as they listened and lay still, soaking in the warm leisure. Presently Learoyd, between the whiffs of his pipe —
4 Seems queer — about 'im yonder — desertin' at all.'
4 'E'll be a bloomin' side queerer when I've done with 'im,' said Ortheris. They were talking in
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ON GREENHOW HILL
whispers, for the stillness of the wood and the desire of slaughter lay heavy upon them.
'I make no doubt he had his reasons for desertin' ; but, my faith 1 I make less doubt ivry man has good reason for killin' him/ said Mulvaney.
4 Happen there was a lass tewed up wi' it. Men do more than more for th' sake of a lass/
'They make most av us 'list. They've no manner av right to make us desert/
'Ah; they make us 'list, or their fathers do/ said Learoyd softly, his helmet over his eyes.
Ortheris's brows contracted savagely. He was watching the valley. * If it's a girl I'll shoot the beggar twice over, an' second time for bein' a fool. You're blasted sentimental all of a sudden. Thinkin' o' your last near shave ? '
'Nay, lad; ah was but thinkin' o' what has happened/
4 An' fwhat has happened, ye lumberin' child av calamity, that you're lowing like a cow-calf at the back av the pasture, an' suggestin' invidious excuses for the man Stanley's goin' to kill. Ye'll have to wait another hour yet, little man. Spit it out, Jock, an' bellow melojus to the moon. It takes an earthquake or a bullet graze to fetch aught out av you. Discourse, Don Juan ! The a-moors av Lotharius Learoyd ! Stanley, kape a rowlin' rig'mental eye on the valley/
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
'It's along o' yon hill there/ said Learoyd, watching the bare sub-Himalayan spur that re* minded him of his Yorkshire moors. He was speaking more to himself than his fellows. ' Ay/ said he, * Rumbolds Moor stands up ower Skipton town, an' Greenhow Hill stands up ower Pately Brig. I reckon you've never heeard tell o' Green* how Hill, but yon bit o' bare stuff if there was nobbut a white road windin' is like ut ; strangely like. Moors an' moors an' moors, wi' never a tree for shelter, an' gray houses wi' flagstone rooves, and pewits cryin', an' a windhover goin' to and fro just like these kites. And cold ! A wind that cuts you like a knife. You could tell Green* how Hill folk by the red-apple colour o' their cheeks an' nose tips, and their blue eyes, driven into pin-points by the wind. Miners mostly, burrowin' rfor lead i' th' hillsides, followin' the trail of th' ore vein same as a field-rat. It was the roughest minin' I ever seen. Yo'd come on a bit o' creakin' wood windlass like a well-head, an' you was let down i' th' bight of a rope, fendin' yoursen off the side wi' one hand, carryin' a candle stuck in a lump o' clay with t'other, an' clickin' hold of a rope with t'other hand.'
'An' that's three of them/ said Mulvaney. * Must be a good climate in those parts/
Learoyd took no heed.
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ON GREENHOW HILL
4 An* then yo' came to a level, where you crept on your hands and knees through a mile o' windin' drift, an' you come out into a cave'place as big as Leeds Townhall, with a engine pumpin' water from workings 'at went deeper still. It's a queer country, let alone minin', for the hill is full of those natural caves, an* the rivers an* the becks drops into what they call pot'holes, an' come out again miles away.'
* Wot was you doin' there ? ' said Ortheris.
* I was a young chap then, an' mostly went wi' 'osses, leadin' coal and lead ore; but at th' time I'm tellin' on I was drivin' the waggon-team i' th' big sumph. I didn't belong to that country-side by rights. I went there because of a little difference at home, an' at fust I took up wi' a rough lot. One night we'd been drinkin', an' I must ha' hed more than I could stand, or happen th' ale was none so good. Though i' them days, By for God, I never seed bad ale.' He flung his arms over his head, and gripped a vast handful of white violets. 'Nah,' said he, 'I never seed the ale I could not drink, the bacca I could not smoke, nor the lass I could not kiss. Well, we mun have a race home, the lot on us. I lost all th' others, an' when I was climbin' ower one of them walls built o' loose stones, I comes down into the ditch, stones and all, an' broke my arm. Not as I knawed much about it, for I fell on th' back of my head, an' was
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
knocked stupid like. An* when I come to mysen it were morning an* I were lyin* on the settle i' Jesse Roantree's house-place, an' 'Liza Roantree was settin' sewin'. I ached all ovver, and my mouth were like a lime «• kiln. She gave me a drink out of a china mug wi' gold letters — "A Present from Leeds " — as I looked at many and many a time at after. "Yo're to lie still while Dr. Warbottom comes, because your arm's broken, and father has sent a lad to fetch him. He found yo' when he was goin' to work, an' carried you here on his back," sez she. "Oa!" sez I; an' I shet my eyes, for I felt ashamed o' mysen. " Father's gone to his work these three hours, an' he said he'd tell 'em to get somebody to drive the tram." The clock ticked, an' a bee corned in the house, an' they rung i' my head like mill-wheels. An' she give me another drink an' settled the pillow. "Eh, but yo're young to be getten drunk an' such like, but yo' won't do it again, will yo'?"— "Noa," sez I, "I wouldn't if she'd not but stop they mill-wheels clatterin'." '
4 Faith, it's a good thing to be nursed by a woman when you're sick ! ' said Mulvaney. * Dir' cheap at the price av twenty broken heads.'
Ortheris turned to frown across the valley. He had not been nursed by many women in his life.
4 An' then Dr. Warbottom comes ridin' up, an'
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ON GREENHOW HILL
Jesse Roantree along with 'im. He was a high* larned doctor, but he talked wi' poor folk same as theirsens. "What's ta bin agaate on naa?" he sings out. "Brekkin' tha thick head?" An' he felt me all ovver, "That's none broken, Tha' nobbut knocked a bit sillier than ordinary, an' that's daaft eneaf." An' soa he went on, callin' me all the names he could think on, but settin' my arm, wi' Jesse's help, as careful as could be. "Yo' mun let the big oaf bide here a bit, Jesse," he says, when he hed strapped me up an' given me a doze o' physic; "an' you an' 'Liza will tend him, though he's scarcelins worth the trouble. An' tha'll lose tha work," sez he, " an' tha'll be upon th' Sick Club for a couple o' months an' more. Doesn't tha think tha's a fool ? "
' But whin was a young man, high or low, the other av a fool, I'd like to know ? ' said Mulvaney. ' Sure, folly's the only safe way to wisdom, for I've thried it.'
'Wisdom!' grinned Ortheris, scanning his comrades with uplifted chin. * You're bloomin' Solomons, you two, ain't you ? '
Learoyd went calmly on, with a steady eye like an ox chewing the cud.
4 And that was how I corned to know 'Liza Roantree. There's some tunes as she used to sing — aw, she were always singin' — that fetches Green*
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
how Hill before my eyes as fair as yon brow across there. And she would learn me to sing bass, an' I was to go to th' chapel wi' 'em, where Jesse and she led the singin', th' old man playin' the fiddle. He was a strange chap, old Jesse, fair mad wi' music, an' he made me promise to learn the big fiddle when my arm was better. It belonged to him, and it stood up in a big case alongside o' th' eight - day clock, but Willie Satterthwaite, as played it in the chapel, had getten deaf as a door-post, and it vexed Jesse, as he had to rap him ower his head wi' th' fiddle- stick to make him give ower sawin' at th' right time.
4 But there was a black drop in it all, an' it was a man in a black coat that brought it. When th' Primitive Methodist preacher came to Greenhow, he would always stop wi' Jesse Roantree, an' he laid hold of me from th' beginning. It seemed I wor a soul to be saved, and he meaned to do it. At th' same time I jealoused 'at he were keen of savin' 'Liza Roantree's soul as well, and I could ha' killed him many a time. An' this went on till one day I broke out, an' borrowed th' brass for a drink from 'Liza. After fower days I come back, wi' my tail between my legs, just to see 'Liza again. But Jesse were at home an' th' preacher — th' Reverend Amos Barraclough. 'Liza
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said naught, but a bit o' red come into her face as were white of a regular thing. Says Jesse, tryin' his best to be civil, "Nay, lad, it's like this. You've getten to choose which way it's goin' to be. I'll ha' nobody across ma doorstep as goes a'drinkin', an' borrows my lass's money to spend i' their drink. Ho'd tha tongue, 'Liza," sez he, when she wanted to put in a word 'at I were welcome to th' brass, and she were none afraid that I wouldn't pay it back. Then the Reverend cuts in, seein' as Jesse were losin' his temper, an' they fair beat me among them. But it were 'Liza, as looked an' said naught, as did more than either o* their tongues, an' soa I concluded to get converted.'
* Fwhat I ' shouted Mulvaney. Then, checking himself, he said softly, 'Let be! Let be! Sure the Blessed Virgin is the mother of all religion an' most women ; an' there's a dale av piety in a girl if the men would only let ut stay there. I'd ha' been converted myself under the circumstances/
* Nay, but,' pursued Learoyd with a blush, * I meaned it/
Ortheris laughed as loudly as he dared, having regard to his business at the time,
* Ay, Ortheris, you may laugh, but you didn't know yon preacher Barraclough — a little white* faced chap, wi' a voice as 'ud wile a bird off an a
L. H. Vol.1 97 H
LIFE'S HANDICAP
bush, and a way o' layin' hold of folks as made them think they'd never had a live man for a friend before. You never saw him, an' — an' — you never seed 'Liza Roantree — never seed 'Liza Roantree. . . . Happen it was as much 'Liza as th' preacher and her father, but anyways they all meaned it, an' I was fair shamed o' mysen, an' so I become what they called a changed character. And when I think on, it's hard to believe as yon chap going to prayer-meetin's, chapel, and class- meetin's were me. But I never had naught to say for mysen, though there was a deal o' shoutin', and old Sammy Strother, as were almost clemmed to death and doubled up with the rheumatics, would sing out, " Joyful I Joyful I " and 'at it were better to go up to heaven in a coal'basket than down to hell i' a coach an' six. And he would put his poor old claw on my shoulder, sayin', "Doesn't tha feel it, tha great lump? Doesn't tha feel it ? " An' sometimes I thought I did, and then again I thought I didn't, an' how was that ? ' 4 The iverlastin' nature av mankind,' said Mul- vaney. 4 An', furthermore, I misdoubt you were built for the Primitive Methodians. They're a new corps anyways. I hold by the Ould Church, for she's the mother of them all — ay, an' the father, too. I like her bekaze she's most remark- able regimental in her fittings. I may die in
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Honolulu, Nova Zambra, or Cape Cayenne, but wherever I die, me bein' fwhat I am, an' a priest handy, I go under the same orders an' the same words an' the same unction as tho' the Pope himself come down from the roof av St. Peter's to see me off. There's neither high nor low, nor broad nor deep, nor betwixt nor between wid her, an' that's what I like. But mark you, she's no manner av Church for a wake man, bekaze she takes the body and the soul av him, onless he has his proper work to do. I remember when my father died that was three months comin' to his grave ; begad he'd ha' sold the shebeen above our heads for ten minutes' quittance of purgathory. An' he did all he could. That's why I say ut takes a strong man to deal with the Ould Church, an' for that reason you'll find so many women go there. An' that sames a conundrum/
4 Wot's the use o' worrittin' 'bout these things ? ' said Ortheris. 4 You're bound to find all out quicker nor you want to, any'ow.' He jerked the cartridge out of the breech-block into the palm of his hand. * 'Ere's my chaplain/ he said, and made the venomous black-headed bullet bow like a marionette. 4 'E's goin' to teach a man all about which is which, an' wot's true, after all, before sundown. But wot 'appened after that, Jock ? '
4 There was one thing they boggled at, and
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almost shut th' gate i' my face for, and that were my dog Blast, th' only one saved out o' a litter o' pups as was blowed up when a keg o' minin' powder loosed off in th' storekeeper's hut. They liked his name no better than his business, which were fightin' every dog he corned across ; a rare good dog, wi' spots o' black and pink on his face, one ear gone, and lame o' one side wi' being driven in a basket through an iron roof, a matter of half a mile.
4 They said I mun give him up 'cause he were worldly and low j and would I let mysen be shut out of heaven for the sake on a dog ? 4t Nay," says I, u if th' door isn't wide enough for th' pair on us, we'll stop outside, for we'll none be parted." And th' preacher spoke up for Blast, as had a likin' for him from th' first — I reckon that was why I come to like th' preacher — and wouldn't hear o' changin' his name to Bless, as some o' them wanted. So th' pair on us became reg'lar chapel-members. But it's hard for a young chap o' my build to cut traces from the world, th' flesh, an' the devil all uv a heap. Yet I stuck to it for a long time, while th' lads as used to stand about th' town-end an' lean ower th' bridge, spittin' into th' beck o' a Sunday, would call after me, "Sitha, Learoyd, when's ta bean to preach, 'cause we're comin' to hear tha." — "Ho'd tha jaw. He hasn't getten
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th' white choaker on ta mom" another lad would say, and I had to double my fists hard i' th' bottom of my Sunday coat, and say to mysen, " If 'twere Monday and I warn't a member o' the Primitive Methodists, I'd leather all th' lot of yond'." That was th' hardest of all — to know that I could fight and I mustn't fight/
Sympathetic grunts from Mulvaney.
4 So what wi' singin', practising and class- meetin's, and th' big fiddle, as he made me take between my knees, I spent a deal o' time i' Jesse Roantree's house-place. But often as I was there, th' preacher fared to me to go oftener, and both th' old man an' th' young woman were pleased to have him. He lived i' Pately Brig, as were a goodish step off, but he come. He come all the same. I liked him as well or better as any man I'd ever seen i' one way, and yet I hated him wi' all my heart i' t'other, and we watched each other like cat and mouse, but civil as you please, for I was on my best behaviour, and he was that fair and open that I was bound to be fair with him. Rare good company he was, if I hadn't wanted to wring his cliver little neck half of the time. Often and often when he was goin' from Jesse's I'd set him a bit on the road.'
' See 'im 'ome, you mean ? ' said Ortheris.
* Ay. It's a way we have i' Yorkshire o' seein'
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friends off. Yon was a friend as I didn't want to come back, and he didn't want me to come back neither, and so we'd walk together towards Pately, and then he'd set me back again, and there we'd be wal two o'clock i' the mornin' settin' each other to an' fro like a blasted pair o' pendulums twixt hill and valley, long after th' light had gone out i' 'Liza's window, as both on us had been looking at, pretending to watch the moon.'
'Ah!' broke in Mulvaney, 'ye'd no chanst against the maraudin' psalnvsinger. They'll take the airs an' the graces instid av the man nine times out av ten, an' they only find the blunder later — the wimmen.'
* That's just where yo're wrong,' said Learoyd, reddening under the freckled tan of his cheeks. 4 1 was th' first wi 'Liza, an' yo'd think that were enough. But th' parson were a steady^gaited sort o' chap, and Jesse were strong o' his side, and all th' women i' the congregation dinned it to 'Liza 'at she were fair fond to take up wi' a wastrel ne'er'do-weel like me, as was scarcelins respectable an' a fighting dog at his heels. It was all very well for her to be doing me good and saving my soul, but she must mind as she didn't do herself harm. They talk o' rich folk bein' stuck up an' genteel, but for cast-iron pride o' respectability there's naught like poor chapel folk. It's as cold
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as th' wind o' Greenhow Hill — ay, and colder, for 'twill never change. And now I come to think on it, one at strangest things I know is 'at they couldn't abide th' thought o' soldiering. There's a vast o' fightin' i' th' Bible, and there's a deal of Methodists i' th' army; but to hear chapel folk talk yo'd think that soldierin' were next door, an' t'other side, to hangin'. I' their meetin's all their talk is o' fightin'. When Sammy Strother were stuck for summat to say in his prayers, he'd sing out, " Th' sword o' th' Lord and o' Gideon." They were allus at it about puttin' on th' whole armour o' righteousness, an' fightin' the good fight o' faith. And then, atop o' 't all, they held a prayer^meetin' ower a young chap as wanted to 'list, and nearly deafened him, till he picked up his hat and fair ran away. And they'd tell tales in th' Sunday "School o' bad lads as had been thumped and brayed for bird-nesting o' Sundays and playin' truant o' week-days, and how they took to wrestlin', dog'fightin', rabbiNrunnin', and drinkin', till at last, as if 'twere a hepitaph on a gravestone, they damned him across th' moors wi', " an' then he went and 'listed for a soldier/' an' they'd all fetch a deep breath, and throw up their eyes like a hen drinkin'.'
'Fwhy is ut?' said Mulvaney, bringing down his hand on his thigh with a crack. * In the name
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av God, fwhy is ut ? I've seen ut, tu. They cheat an' they swindle an' they lie an' they slander, an' fifty things fifty times worse ; but the last an' the worst by their reckonin' is to serve the Widdy honest. It's like the talk av childer — seein' things all round,'
* Plucky lot of fightin' good fights of whatser* name they'd do if we didn't see they had a quiet place to fight in. And such fightin' as theirs is I Gats on the tiles. T'other callin' to which to come on. I'd give a month's pay to get some o' them broad'backed beggars in London sweatin' through a day's road-makin' an' a night's rain. They'd carry on a deal afterwards — same as we're supposed to carry on. I've bin turned out of a measly arf -license pub down Lambeth way, full o' greasy kebmen, 'fore now,' said Ortheris with an oath,
* Maybe you were dhrunk,' said Mulvaney soothingly.
4 Worse nor that. The Forders were drunk. / was wearin' the Queen's uniform.'
4 Yd no particular thought to be a soldier i' them days,' said Learoyd, still keeping his eye on the bare hill opposite, * but this sort o' talk put it i' my head. They was so good, th' chapel folk, that they tumbled ower t'other side. But I stuck to it for 'Liza's sake, specially as she was learning
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me to sing the bass part in a horotorio as Jesse were gettin' up. She sung like a throstle hersen, and we had practising night after night for a matter of three months/
4 1 know what a horotorio is/ said Ortheris pertly. * It's a sort of chaplain's sing-song — words all out of the Bible, and hullabaloojah choruses/
'Most Greenhow Hill folks played some in- strument or t'other, an' they all sung so you might have heard them miles away, and they were so pleased wi' the noise they made they didn't fair to want anybody to listen. The preacher sung high seconds when he wasn't playin' the flute, an' they set me, as hadn't got far with big fiddle, again Willie Satterthwaite, to jog his elbow when he had to get a' gate playin/ Old Jesse was happy if ever a man was, for he were th' conductor an' th' first fiddle an' th' leadin' singer, beatin' time wi' his fiddle-stick, till at times he'd rap with it on the table, and cry out, " Now, you mun all stop ; it's my turn." And he'd face round to his front, fair sweating wi' pride, to sing th' tenor solos. But he were grandest i' th' choruses, waggin' his head, flinging his arms round like a windmill, and singin' hisself black in the face. A rare singer were Jesse.
4 Yo' see, I was not o' much account wi' 'em all exceptin' to 'Liza Roantree, and I had a deal o'
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time settin' quiet at meetings and horotorio practises to hearken their talk, and if it were strange to me at beginning it got stranger still at after, when I was shut on it, and could study what it meaned.
'Just after th' horotorios came off, 'Liza, as had allus been weakly like, was took very bad. I walked Dr. Warbottom's horse up and down a deal of times while he were inside, where they wouldn't let me go, though I fair ached to see her,
' " She'll be better i' noo, lad— better i' noo," he used to say. " Tha mun ha' patience." Then they said if I was quiet I might go in, and th' Reverend Amos Barraclough used to read to her lyin' propped up among th' pillows. Then she began to mend a bit, and they let me carry her on to th' settle, and when it got warm again she went about same as afore. Th' preacher and me and Blast was a deal together i' them days, and i' one way we was rare good comrades. But I could ha' stretched him time and again with a good will. I mind one day he said he would like to go down into th' bowels o' th' earth, and see how th' Lord had builded th' framework o' th' everlastin' hills. He were one of them chaps as had a gift o' sayin' things. They rolled off the tip of his clever tongue, same as Mulvaney here, as would ha' made a rare good preacher if he had
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nobbut given his mind to it. I lent him a suit c/ miner's kit as almost buried th' little man, and his white face down i' th' coat-collar and hat-flap looked like the face of a boggart, and he cowered down i' th' bottom o' the waggon. I was drivin' a tram as led up a bit of an incline up to th' cave where the engine was pumping and where th' ore was brought up and put into th' waggons as went down o' themselves, me puttin' th' brake on and th' horses a-trottin' after. Long as it was daylight we were good friends, but when we got fair into th' dark, and could nobbut see th' day shinin' at the hole like a lamp at a street-end, I feeled down- right wicked. Ma religion dropped all away from me when I looked back at him as were always comin' between me and 'Liza* The talk was 'at they were to be wed when she got better, an' I couldn't get her to say yes or nay to it. He began to sing a hymn in his thin voice, and I came out wi' a chorus that was all cussin' an' swearin' at my horses, an' I began to know how I hated him. He were such a little chap, too. I could drop him wi' one hand down Garstang's Copper-hole — a place where th' beck slithered ower th' edge on a rock, and fell wi' a bit of a whisper into a pit as no rope i' Greenhow could plump.'
Again Learoyd rooted up the innocent violets. * Ay, he should see th' bowels o' th' earth an' never
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naught else* I could take him a mile or two along th' drift, and leave him wi' his candle doused to cry hallelujah, wi' none to hear him and say amen. I was to lead him down th' ladder^way to th' drift where Jesse Roantree was working and why shouldn't he slip on th' ladder, wi' my feet on his fingers till they loosed grip, and I put him down wi' my heel? If I went fust down th' ladder I could click hold on him and chuck him over my head, so as he should go squshin' down the shaft, breakin' his bones at ev'ry timberin' as Bill Appleton did when he was fresh, and hadn't a bone left when he wrought to th' bottom, Niver a blasted leg to walk from Pately. Niver an arm to put round 'Liza Roantree's waist. Niver no more — niver no more.'
The thick lips curled back over the yellow teeth, and that flushed face was not pretty to look upon. Mulvaney nodded sympathy, and Ortheris, moved by his comrade's passion, brought up the rifle to his shoulder, and searched the hillside for his quarry, muttering ribaldry about a sparrow, a spout, and a thunder'Storm. The voice of the watercourse supplied the necessary small talk till Learoyd picked up his story.
'But it's none so easy to kill a man like yon. When I'd given up my horses to th' lad as took my place and I was showin' th' preacher th'
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workings, shoutin' into his ear across th' clang of th' pumpin' engines, I saw he were afraid o' naught ; and when the lamplight showed his black eyes, I could feel as he was masterin' me again. I were no better nor Blast chained up short and growlin' i' the depths of him while a strange dog went safe past.
'"Th'art a coward and a fool/' I said to mysen ; an* I wrestled i' my mind again' him till, when we come to Garstang's Copper^hole, I laid hold o' the preacher and lifted him up over my head and held him into the darkest on it. " Now, lad," I says, " it's to be one or t'other on us — thee or me — for 'Liza Roantree. Why, isn't thee afraid for thysen ? " I says, for he were still i' my arms as a sack. " Nay ; I'm but afraid for thee, my poor lad, as knows naught," says he. I set him down on th' edge, an' th' beck run stiller, an' there was no more buzzin' in my head like when th' bee come through th' window o' Jesse's house. " What dost tha mean ? " says I.
4 " I've often thought as thou ought to know," says he, "but 'twas hard to tell thee. 'Liza Roantree's for neither on us, nor for nobody o' this earth. Dr. Warbottom says — and he knows her, and her mother before her — that she is in a decline, and she cannot live six months longer. He's known it for many a day. Steady, John!
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Steady!" says he. And that weak little man pulled me further back and set me again' him, and talked it all over quiet and still, me turnin' a bunch o' candles in my hand, and counting them ower and ower again as I listened. A deal on it were th' regular preachin' talk, but there were a vast lot as made me begin to think as he were more of a man than I'd ever given him credit for, till I were cut as deep for him as I were for mysen.
'Six candles we had, and we crawled and climbed all that day while they lasted, and I said to mysen, "'Liza Roantree hasn't six months to live." And when we came into th' daylight again we were like dead men to look at, an' Blast come behind us without so much as waggin' his tail. When I saw 'Liza again she looked at me a minute and says, "Who's telled tha? For I see tha knows." And she tried to smile as she kissed me, and I fair broke down.
4 Yo'see, I was a young chap i' them days, and had seen naught o' life, let alone death, as is allus E'waitin'. She telled me as Dr. Warbottom said as Greenhow air was too keen, and they were goin' to Bradford, to Jesse's brother David, as worked i' a mill, and I mun hold up like a man and a Christian, and she'd pray for me. Well, and they went away, and the preacher that same back end o' th' year were appointed to another circuit, as
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they call it, and I were left alone on Greenhow Hill.
4 1 tried, and I tried hard, to stick to th' chapel, but 'tweren't th' same thing at after. I hadn't 'Liza's voice to follow i' th' singin', nor her eyes a'shinin' acrost their heads. And i' th' class* meetings they said as I mun have some experiences to tell, and I hadn't a word to say for mysen.
4 Blast and me moped a good deal, and happen we didn't behave ourselves over well, for they dropped us and wondered however they'd come to take us up. I can't tell how we got through th' time, while i' th' winter I gave up my job and went to Bradford. Old Jesse were at th' door o' th' house, in a long street o' little houses. He'd been sendin' th' children 'way as were clatterin' their clogs in th' causeway, for she were asleep.
4 44 Is it thee ? " he says ; u but you're not to see her. I'll none have her wakened for a nowt like thee. She's goin' fast, and she mun go in peace. Thou'lt never be good for naught i' th' world, and as long as thou lives thou'll never play the big fiddle. Get away, lad, get away I " So he shut the door softly i' my face.
4 Nobody never made Jesse my master, but it seemed to me he was about right, and I went away into the town and knocked up against a recruiting sergeant. The old tales o' th' chapel
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folk came buzzin' into my head. I was to get away, and this were th' regular road for the likes o' me. I 'listed there and then, took th' Widow's shillin', and had a bunch o' ribbons pinned i' my hat.
'But next day I found my way to David Roantree's door, and Jesse came to open it. Says he, "Thou's come back again wi' th' devil's colours flyin' — thy true colours, as I always telled thee."
4 But I begged and prayed of him to let me see her nobbut to say good'bye, till a woman calls down th' stairway, " She says John Learoyd's to come up." Th' old man shifts aside in a flash, and lays his hand on my arm, quite gentle like. "But thou'lt be quiet, John," says he, "for she's rare and weak. Thou was allus a good lad."
* Her eyes were all alive wi' light, and her hair was thick on the pillow round her, but her cheeks were thin — thin to frighten a man that's strong. "Nay, father, yo mayn't say th' devil's colours. Them ribbons is pretty." An' she held out her hands for th' hat, an' she put all straight as a woman will wi' ribbons. " Nay, but what they're pretty," she says. "Eh, but I'd ha' liked to see thee i' thy red coat, John, for thou was allus my own lad — my very own lad, and none else."
* She lifted up her arms, and they come round
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my neck i' a gentle grip, and they slacked away, and she seemed fainting. "Now yo' mun get away, lad/' says Jesse, and I picked up my hat and I came downstairs.
4 Th' recruiting sergeant were waitin' for me at th' corner public'house. " Yo've seen your sweet' heart?" says he. "Yes, I've seen her," says I. 44 Well, we'll have a quart now, and you'll do your best to forget her," says he, bein' one o' them smart, bustlin' chaps. "Ay, sergeant," says I. "Forget her." And I've been forgettin' her ever since.'
He threw away the wilted clump of white violets as he spoke. Ortheris suddenly rose to his knees, his rifle at his shoulder, and peered across the valley in the clear afternoon light. His chin cuddled the stock, and there was a twitching of the muscles of the right cheek as he sighted ; Private Stanley Ortheris was engaged on his busi* ness. A speck of white crawled up the water* course.
4 See that beggar ? . . . Got 'im/
Seven hundred yards away, and a full two hundred down the hillside, the deserter of the Aurangabadis pitched forward, rolled down a red rock, and lay very still, with his face in a clump of blue gentians, while a big raven flapped out of the pine wood to make investigation.
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4 That's a clean shot, little man/ said Mulvaney.
Learoyd thoughtfully watched the smoke clear away. 4 Happen there was a lass tewed up wi' him, too/ said he.
Ortheris did not reply. He was staring across the valley, with the smile of the artist who looks on the completed work*
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The Earth gave up her dead that tide,
Into our camp he came, And said his say, and went his way,
And left our hearts aflame.
Keep tally — on the gun-butt score
The vengeance we must take, When God shall bring full reckoning,
For our dead comrade's sake.
Ballad.
LET it be clearly understood that the Russian is a delightful person till he tucks in his shirt. As an Oriental he is charming. It is only when he insists upon being treated as the most easterly of western peoples instead of the most westerly of easterns that he becomes a racial anomaly extremely difficult to handle. The host never knows which side of his nature is going to turn up next. Dirkovitch was a Russian — a Russian of the
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Russians — who appeared to get his bread by serving the Czar as an officer in a Cossack regi- ment, and corresponding for a Russian newspaper with a name that was never twice alike. He was a handsome young Oriental, fond of wandering through unexplored portions of the earth, and he arrived in India from nowhere in particular. At least no living man could ascertain whether it was by way of Balkh, Badakshan, Chitral, Beluchistan, or Nepaul, or anywhere else. The Indian Govern- ment, being in an unusually affable mood, gave orders that he was to be civilly treated and shown everything that was to be seen. So he drifted, talking bad English and worse French, from one city to another, till he foregathered with Her Majesty's White Hussars in the city of Peshawur, which stands at the mouth of that narrow swordcut in the hills that men call the Khyber Pass. He was undoubtedly an officer, and he was decorated after the manner of the Russians with little enamelled crosses, and he could talk, and (though this has nothing to do with his merits) he had been given up as a hopless task, or cask, by the Black Tyrone, who individually and collectively, with hot whisky and honey, mulled brandy, and mixed spirits of every kind, had striven in all hospitality to make him drunk. And when the Black Tyrone, who are exclusively Irish, fail to disturb the peace
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of head of a foreigner — that foreigner is certain to be a superior man.
The White Hussars were as conscientious in choosing their wine as in charging the enemy. All that they possessed, including some wondrous brandy, was placed at the absolute disposition of Dirkovitch, and he enjoyed himself hugely — even more than among the Black Tyrones.
But he remained distressingly European through it all. The White Hussars were 4 My dear true friends/ * Fellow'Soldiers glorious/ and 4 Brothers inseparable/ He would unburden himself by the hour on the glorious future that awaited the com* bined arms of England and Russia when their hearts and their territories should run side by side, and the great mission of civilising Asia should begin. That was unsatisfactory, because Asia is not going to be civilised after the methods of the West. There is too much Asia and she is too old. You cannot reform a lady of many lovers, and Asia has been insatiable in her flirtations aforetime. She will never attend Sunday school or learn to vote save with swords for tickets.
Dirkovitch knew this as well as any one else, but it suited him to talk speciaLcorrespondently and to make himself as genial as he could. Now and then he volunteered a little, a very little informa* tion about his own sotnia of Cossacks, left appar'
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ently to look after themselves somewhere at the back of beyond* He had done rough work in Central Asia, and had seen rather more help^your^ self fighting than most men of his years. But he was careful never to betray his superiority, and more than careful to praise on all occasions the appearance, drill, uniform, and organisation of Her Majesty's White Hussars. And indeed they were a regiment to be admired. When Lady Durgan, widow of the late Sir John Durgan, arrived in their station, and after a short time had been proposed to by every single man at mess, she put the public sentiment very neatly when she explained that they were all so nice that unless she could marry them all, including the colonel and some majors already married, she was not going to content herself with one hussar. Wherefore she wedded a little man in a rifle regiment, being by nature contradictious ; and the White Hussars were going to wear crape on their arms, but compromised by attending the wedding in full force, and lining the aisle with unutterable reproach. She had jilted them all — from Basset - Holmer the senior captain to little Mildred the junior subaltern, who could have given her four thousand a year and a title.
The only persons who did not share the general regard for the White Hussars were a few thousand gentlemen of Jewish extraction who lived across the
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THE MAN WHO WAS
border, and answered to the name of Pathan. They had once met the regiment officially and for something less than twenty minutes, but the inter- view, which was complicated with many casualties, had filled them with prejudice. They even called the White Hussars children of the devil and sons of persons whom it would be perfectly impossible to meet in decent society. Yet they were not above making their aversion fill their money.* belts. The regiment possessed carbines — beautiful Martini'Henry carbines that would lob a bullet into an enemy's camp at one thousand yards, and were even handier than the long rifle. Therefore they were coveted all along the border, and since demand inevitably breeds supply, they were supplied at the risk of life and limb for exactly their weight in coined silver — seven and one half pounds weight of rupees, or sixteen pounds sterling reckoning the rupee at par. They were stolen at night by snaky* haired thieves who crawled on their stomachs under the nose of the sentries; they disappeared mysteriously from locked arm-racks, and in the hot weather, when all the barrack doors and windows were open, they vanished like puffs of their own smoke. The border people desired them for family vendettas and contingencies. But in the long cold nights of the northern Indian winter they were stolen most extensively. The traffic of
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murder was liveliest among the hills at that season, and prices ruled high. The regimental guards were first doubled and then trebled. A trooper does not much care if he loses a weapon — Govern- ment must make it good — but he deeply resents the loss of his sleep. The regiment grew very angry, and one rifle-thief bears the visible marks of their anger upon him to this hour. That incident stopped the burglaries for a time, and the guards were reduced accordingly, and the regiment devoted itself to polo with unexpected results ; for it beat by two goals to one that very terrible polo corps the Lushkar Light Horse, though the latter had four ponies apiece for a short hour's fight, as well as a native officer who played like a lambent flame across the ground.
They gave a dinner to celebrate the event. The Lushkar team came, and Dirkovitch came, in the fullest full uniform of a Cossack officer, which is as full as a dressing-gown, and was introduced to the Lushkars, and opened his eyes as he regarded. They were lighter men than the Hussars, and they carried themselves with the swing that is the peculiar right of the Punjab Frontier Force and all Irregular Horse. Like everything else in the Service it has to be learnt, but, unlike many things, it is never forgotten, and remains on the body till death.
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The great beanvroofed mess-room of the White Hussars was a sight to be remembered. All the mess plate was out on the long table — the same table that had served up the bodies of five officers after a forgotten fight long and long ago — the dingy, battered standards faced the door of entrance, clumps of winter ^ roses lay between the silver candlesticks, and the portraits of eminent officers deceased looked down on their successors from between the heads of sambhur, nilghai, markhor, and, pride of all the mess, two grinning snow* leopards that had cost Basset-Holmer four months' leave that he might have spent in England, instead of on the road to Thibet and the daily risk of his life by ledge, snow-slide, and grassy slope.
The servants in spotless white muslin and the crest of their regiments on the brow of their turbans waited behind their masters who were clad in the scarlet and gold of the White Hussars, and the cream and silver of the Lushkar Light Horse. Dirkovitch's dull green uniform was the only dark spot at the board, and his big onyx eyes made up for it. He was fraternising effusively with the captain of the Lushkar team, who was wondering how many of Dirkovitch's Cossacks his own dark wiry down-countrymen could account for in a fair charge. But one does not speak of these things openly,
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The talk rose higher and higher, and the regi- mental band played between the courses, as is the immemorial custom, till all tongues ceased for a moment with the removal of the dinner-slips and the first toast of obligation, when an officer rising said, 'Mr. Vice, the Queen/ and little Mildred from the bottom of the table answered, 'The Queen, God bless her/ and the big spurs clanked as the big men heaved themselves up and drank the Queen upon whose pay they were falsely sup- posed to settle their mess-bills. That Sacrament of the Mess never grows old, and never ceases to bring a lump into the throat of the listener wher- ever he be by sea or by land. Dirkovitch rose with his 'brothers glorious/ but he could not understand. No one but an officer can tell what the toast means; and the bulk have more senti- ment than comprehension. Immediately after the little silence that follows on the ceremony there entered the native officer who had played for the Lushkar team. He could not, of course, eat with the mess, but he came in at dessert, all six feet of him, with the blue and silver turban atop, and the big black boots below. The mess rose joyously as he thrust forward the hilt of his sabre in token of fealty for the colonel of the White Hussars to touch, and dropped into a vacant chair amid shouts of: * Rung ho, Hira Singh T (which being trans-
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lated means * Go in and win '). * Did I whack you over the knee, old man ? ' 4 Ressaidar Sahib, what the devil made you play that kicking pig of a pony in the last ten minutes ? ' l Shabash, Res^ saidar Sahib 1' Then the voice of the colonel, * The health of Ressaidar Hira Singh ! '
After the shouting had died away Hira Singh rose to reply, for he was the cadet of a royal house, the son of a king's son, and knew what was due on these occasions. Thus he spoke in the vernacular: — 'Colonel Sahib and officers of this regiment. Much honour have you done me. This will I remember. We came down from afar to play you. But we were beaten/ (' No fault of yours, Ressaidar Sahib. Played on our own ground y' know. Your ponies were cramped from the railway. Don't apologise!') 4 Therefore perhaps we will come again if it be so ordained.' ('Hear! Hear! Hear, indeed! Bravo! Hsh!') 4 Then we will play you afresh ' (' Happy to meet you.') ' till there are left no feet upon our ponies. Thus far for sport.' He dropped one hand on his sword 'hilt and his eye wandered to Dirkovitch lolling back in his chair. 'But if by the will of God there arises any other game which is not the polo game, then be assured, Colonel Sahib and officers, that we will play it out side by side, though they/ again his eye sought Dirkovitch,
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4 though they I say have fifty ponies to our one horse/ And with a deep-mouthed Rung ho ! that sounded like a musket-butt on flagstones, he sat down amid leaping glasses.
Dirkovitch, who had devoted himself steadily to the brandy — the terrible brandy aforementioned — did not understand, nor did the expurgated translations offered to him at all convey the point. Decidedly Hira Singh's was the speech of the evening, and the clamour might have continued to the dawn had it not been broken by the noise of a shot without that sent every man feeling at his defenceless left side. Then there was a scuffle and a yell of pain.
4 Carbine - stealing again!' said the adjutant, calmly sinking back in his chair. 4 This comes of reducing the guards. I hope the sentries have killed him/
The feet of armed men pounded on the veranda flags, and it was as though something was being dragged.
'Why don't they put him in the cells till the morning?' said the colonel testily. 'See if they've damaged him, sergeant/
The mess sergeant fled out into the darkness and returned with two troopers and a corporal, all very much perplexed.
4 Caught a man stealin' carbines, sir/ said the
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corporal. * Leastways 'e was crawlin' towards the barricks, sir, past the main road sentries, an' the sentry 'e sez, sir —
The limp heap of rags upheld by the three men groaned. Never was seen so destitute and demoralised an Afghan. He was turbanless, shoe^ less, caked with dirt, and all but dead with rough handling. Hira Singh started slightly at the sound of the man's pain. Dirkovitch took another glass of brandy.
* What does the sentry say ? ' said the colonel.
4 Sez 'e speaks English, sir/ said the corporal.
'So you brought him into mess instead of handing him over to the sergeant I If he spoke all the Tongues of the Pentecost you've no busi* ness '
Again the bundle groaned and muttered. Little Mildred had risen from his place to inspect. He jumped back as though he had been shot.
' Perhaps it would be better, sir, to send the men away/ said he to the colonel, for he was a much privileged subaltern. He put his arms round the rag'bound horror as he spoke, and dropped him into a chair. It may not have been explained that the littleness of Mildred lay in his being six feet four and big in proportion. The corporal seeing that an officer was disposed to look after the capture, and that the colonel's eye was
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beginning to blaze, promptly removed himself and his men. The mess was left alone with the car' bine-thief, who laid his head on the table and wept bitterly, hopelessly, and inconsolably, as little children weep,
Hira Singh leapt to his feet. 4 Colonel Sahib/ said he, * that man is no Afghan, for they weep Ai! Ai! Nor is he of Hindustan, for they weep Oh! Ho! He weeps after the fashion of the white men, who say Ow ! Ow ! f
'Now where the dickens did you get that knowledge, Hira Singh ? ' said the captain of the Lushkar team.
* Hear him ! ' said Hira Singh simply, pointing at the crumpled figure that wept as though it would never cease.
'He said, "My God!"' said little Mildred. 4 1 heard him say it/
The colonel and the mess-room looked at the man in silence. It is a horrible thing to hear a man cry. A woman can sob from the top of her palate, on her lips, or anywhere else, but a man must cry from his diaphragm, and it rends him to pieces.
' Poor devil ! ' said the colonel, coughing tre- mendously. 4 We ought to send him to hospital. He's been man-handled.'
Now the adjutant loved his carbines. They
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were to him as his grandchildren, the men standing in the first place. He grunted rebelliously : 4I can understand an Afghan stealing, because he's built that way. But I can't understand his crying. That makes it worse/
The brandy must have affected Dirkovitch, for he lay back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. There was nothing special in the ceiling beyond a shadow as of a huge black coffin. Owing to some peculiarity in the construction of the mess-room this shadow was always thrown when the candles were lighted. It never disturbed the digestion of the White Hussars. They were in fact rather proud of it.
4 Is he going to cry all night ? ' said the colonel, * or are we supposed to sit up with little Mildred's guest until he feels better ? '
The man in the chair threw up his head and stared at the mess. * Oh, my God ! ' he said, and every soul in the mess rose to his feet. Then the Lushkar captain did a deed for which he ought to have been given the Victoria Cross — distinguished gallantry in a fight against overwhelming curiosity. He picked up his team with his eyes as the hostess picks up the ladies at the opportune moment, and pausing only by the colonel's chair to say, * This isn't our affair, you know, sir,' led them into the veranda and the gardens. Hira Singh was the
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last to go, and he looked at Dirkovitch. But Dirkovitch had departed into a brandy-paradise of his own. His lips moved without sound, and he was studying the coffin on the ceiling.
'White — white all over/ said Basset-Holmer, the adjutant. 'What a pernicious renegade he must be ! I wonder where he came from ? '
The colonel shook the man gently by the arm, and * Who are you ? ' said he.
There was no answer. The man stared round the mess-room and smiled in the colonel's face. Little Mildred, who was always more of a woman than a man till ' Boot and saddle ' was sounded, repeated the question in a voice that would have drawn confidences from a geyser. The man only smiled. Dirkovitch at the far end of the table slid gently from his chair to the floor. No son of Adam in this present imperfect world can mix the Hussars' champagne with the Hussars' brandy by five and eight glasses of each without remembering the pit whence he was digged and descending thither. The band began to play the tune with which the White Hussars from the date of their formation have concluded all their functions. They would sooner be disbanded than abandon that tune ; it is a part of their system. The man straightened himself in his chair and drummed on the table with his fingers. 128
THE MAN WHO WAS
' I don't see why we should entertain lunatics/ said the colonel. 'Call a guard and send him off to the cells. We'll look into the business in the morning. Give him a glass of wine first though/
Little Mildred filled a sherry- glass with the brandy and thrust it over to the man. He drank, and the tune rose louder, and he straightened him- self yet more. Then he put out his long*taloned hands to a piece of plate opposite and fingered it lovingly. There was a mystery connected with that piece of plate, in the shape of a spring which converted what was a seven^branched candlestick, three springs on each side and one in the middle, into a sort of wheel -spoke candelabrum. He found the spring, pressed it, and laughed weakly. He rose from his chair and inspected a picture on the wall, then moved on to another picture, the mess watching him without a word. When he came to the mantelpiece he shook his head and seemed distressed. A piece of plate representing a mounted hussar in full uniform caught his eye. He pointed to it, and then to the mantelpiece with inquiry in his eyes.
'What is it— Oh what is it?' said little Mildred. Then as a mother might speak to a child, ' That is a horse. Yes, a horse/
Very slowly came the answer in a thick
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passionless guttural — 'Yes, I— have seen. But — where is the horse ? '
You could have heard the hearts of the mess beating as the men drew back to give the stranger full room in his wanderings. There was no question of calling the guard.
Again he spoke — very slowly, 'Where is our horse ? '
There is but one horse in the White Hussars, and his portrait hangs outside the door of the mess* room. He is the piebald drum-horse, the king of the regimental band, that served the regiment for seven-and-thirty years, and in the end was shot for old age. Half the mess tore the thing down from its place and thrust it into the man's hands. He placed it above the mantelpiece, it clattered on the ledge as his poor hands dropped it, and he staggered towards the bottom of the table, falling into Mildred's chair. Then all the men spoke to one another something after this fashion, 'The drum -horse hasn't hung over the mantelpiece since '67.' 'How does he know?' 'Mildred, go and speak to him again.' ' Colonel, what are you going to do?' 'Oh, dry up, and give the poor devil a chance to pull himself together.' ' It isn't possible anyhow. The man's a lunatic/
Little Mildred stood at the colonel's side talking in his ear. 'Will you be good enough to take
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your seats please, gentlemen!' he said, and the mess dropped into the chairs. Only Dirkovitch's seat, next to little Mildred's, was blank, and little Mildred himself had found Hira Singh's place. The widened mess-sergeant filled the glasses in dead silence. Once more the colonel rose, but his hand shook, and the port spilled on the table as he looked straight at the man in little Mildred's chair and said hoarsely, * Mr. Vice, the Queen.' There was a little pause, but the man sprung to his feet and answered without hesitation, 'The Queen, God bless her ! ' and as he emptied the thin glass he snapped the shank between his fingers.
Long and long ago, when the Empress of India was a young woman and there were no unclean ideals in the land, it was the custom of a few messes to drink the Queen's toast in broken glass, to the vast delight of the mess-contractors. The custom is now dead, because there is nothing to break anything for, except now and again the word of a Government, and that has been broken already.
4 That settles it,' said the colonel, with a gasp. * He's not a sergeant. What in the world is he ? '
The entire mess echoed the word, and the volley of questions would have scared any man. It was no wonder that the ragged, filthy invader could only smile and shake his head.
From under the table, calm and smiling, rose
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Dirkovitch, who had been roused from healthful slumber by feet upon his body. By the side of the man he rose, and the man shrieked and grovelled. It was a horrible sight coming so swiftly upon the pride and glory of the toast that had brought the strayed wits together.
Dirkovitch made no offer to raise him, but little Mildred heaved him up in an instant. It is not good that a gentleman who can answer to the Queen's toast should lie at the feet of a subaltern of Cossacks.
The hasty action tore the wretch's upper cloth' ing nearly to the waist, and his body was seamed with dry black scars. There is only one weapon in the world that cuts in parallel lines, and it is neither the cane nor the cat. Dirkovitch saw the marks, and the pupils of his eyes dilated. Also his face changed. He said something that sounded like Shto ve takete, and the man fawning answered, Chetyre.
4 What's that ? ' said everybody together.
'His number. That is number four, you know,' Dirkovitch spoke very thickly.
'What has a Queen's officer to do with a qualified number ? ' said the colonel, and an un^ pleasant growl ran round the table.
' How can I tell ? ' said the affable Oriental with a sweet smile. 'He is a — how you have it? — 132
THE MAN WHO WAS
escape — run-a-way, from over there/ He nodded towards the darkness of the night.
* Speak to him if he'll answer you, and speak to him gently/ said little Mildred, settling the man in a chair. It seemed most improper to all present that Dirkovitch should sip brandy as he talked in purring, spitting Russian to the creature who answered so feebly and with such evident dread. But since Dirkovitch appeared to understand no one said a word. All breathed heavily, leaning forward, in the long gaps of the conversation. The next time that they have no engagements on hand the White Hussars intend to go to St. Peters- burg in a body to learn Russian.
* He does not know how many years ago/ said Dirkovitch facing the mess, 'but he says it was very long ago in a war. I think that there was an accident. He says he was of this glorious and distinguished regiment in the war/
'The rolls I The rolls 1 Holmer, get the rolls I ' said little Mildred, and the adjutant dashed off bare-headed to the orderly-room, where the muster- rolls of the regiment were kept. He returned just in time to hear Dirkovitch conclude, 'Therefore, my dear friends, I am most sorry to say there was an accident which would have been reparable if he had apologised to that our colonel, which he had insulted/
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Then followed another growl which the colonel tried to beat down. The mess was in no mood just then to weigh insults to Russian colonels.
* He does not remember, but I think that there was an accident, and so he was not exchanged among the prisoners, but he was sent to another place — how do you say? — the country. So, he says, he came here. He does not know how he came. Eh? He was at Chepany* — the man caught the word, nodded, and shivered — 'at Zhigansk and Irkutsk. I cannot understand how he escaped. He says, too, that he was in the forests for many years, but how many years he has forgotten — that with many things. It was an accident; done because he did not apologise to that our colonel. Ah ! *
Instead of echoing Dirkovitch's sigh of regret, it is sad to record that the White Hussars livelily exhibited un-Christian delight and other emotions, hardly restrained by their sense of hospitality. Holmer flung the frayed and yellow regimental rolls on the table, and the men flung themselves at these.
* Steady ! Fifty-six — fifty-five — fifty-four/ said Holmer. 'Here we are. "Lieutenant Austin Limmason. Missing." That was before Sebasto- pol. What an infernal shame! Insulted one of their colonels, and was quietly shipped off. Thirty years of his life wiped out/
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'But he never apologised. Said he'd see him damned first/ chorused the mess.
'Poor chap I I suppose he never had the chance afterwards. How did he come here ? ' said the colonel*
The dingy heap in the chair could give no answer.
* Do you know who you are ? ' It laughed weakly.
* Do you know that you are Limmason — Lieu^ tenant Limmason of the White Hussars ? '
Swiftly as a shot came the answer, in a slightly surprised tone, 'Yes, Pm Limmason, of course/ The light died out in his eyes, and the man collapsed, watching every motion of Dirkovitch with terror. A flight from Siberia may fix a few elementary facts in the mind, but it does not seem to lead to continuity of thought. The man could not explain how, like a homing pigeon, he had found his way to his own old mess again. Of what he had suffered or seen he knew nothing. He cringed before Dirkovitch as instinctively as he had pressed the spring of the candlestick, sought the picture of the drunvhorse, and answered to the toast of the Queen. The rest was a blank that the dreaded Russian tongue could only in part remove. His head bowed on his breast, and he giggled and cowered alternately.
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The devil that lived in the brandy prompted Dirkovitch at this extremely inopportune moment to make a speech. He rose, swaying slightly, gripped the table-edge, while his eyes glowed like opals, and began :
4 Fellow * soldiers glorious — true friends and hospitables. It was an accident, and deplorable — most deplorable/ Here he smiled sweetly all round the mess, * But you will think of this little, little thing. So little, is it not? The Czar! Posh! I slap my fingers — I snap my fingers at him. Do I believe in him ? No ! But in us Slav who has done nothing, him I believe. Seventy — how much — millions peoples that have done nothing — not one thing. Posh! Napoleon was an episode/ He banged a hand on the table. * Hear you, old peoples, we have done nothing in the world — out here. All our work is to do; and it shall be done, old peoples. Get a-way ! ' He waved his hand imperiously, and pointed to the man. * You see him. He is not good to see. He was just one little — oh, so little — accident, that no one remembered. Now he is That\ So will you be, brother soldiers so brave — so will you be. But you will never come back. You will all go where he is gone, or' — he pointed to the great coffin- shadow on the ceiling, and muttering, 4 Seventy millions — get a-way, you old peoples,' fell asleep.
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'Sweet, and to the point/ said little Mildred. ''What's the use of getting wroth? Let's make this poor devil comfortable/
But that was a matter suddenly and swiftly taken from the loving hands of the White Hussars. The lieutenant had returned only to go away again three days later, when the wail of the Dead March, and the tramp of the squadrons, told the wondering Station, who saw no gap in the mess* table, that an officer of the regiment had resigned his new-found commission.
And Dirkovitch, bland, supple, and always genial, went away too by a night train. Little Mildred and another man saw him off, for he was the guest of the mess, and even had he smitten the colonel with the open hand, the law of that mess allowed no relaxation of hospitality.
' Good-bye, Dirkovitch, and a pleasant journey/ said little Mildred.
* Au revoir,' said the Russian.
* Indeed ! But we thought you were going home ? ' 4 Yes, but I will come again. My dear friends,
is that road shut?' He pointed to where the North Star burned over the Khyber Pass.
'By Jove! I forgot. Of course. Happy to meet you, old man, any time you like. Got every- thing you want ? Cheroots, ice, bedding ? That's all right. Well, au revoir, Dirkovitch/
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'Urn/ said the other man, as the tail'lights of the train grew small. 'Of — all — the — unmiti^ gated-
Little Mildred answered nothing, but watched the North Star and hummed a selection from a recent Simla burlesque that had much delighted the White Hussars. It ran —
I'm sorry for Mr. Bluebeard, I'm sorry to cause him pain ; But a terrible spree there's sure to be When he comes back again.
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There's a convict more in the Central Jail,
Behind the old mud wall ; There's a lifter less on the Border trail, And the Queen's Peace over all,
Dear boys, The Queen's Peace over all.
For we must bear our leader's blame,
On us the shame will fall, If we lift our hand from a fettered land And the Queen's Peace over all,
Dear boys, The Queen's Peace over all I
The Running of Shindand.
I
THE Indus had risen in flood without warn* ing. Last night it was a fordable shallow ; tonight five miles of raving muddy water parted bank and caving bank, and the river was still rising under the moon. A litter borne by six bearded men, all unused to the work, stopped in the white sand that bordered the whiter plain.
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'It's God's will/ they said 'We dare not cross to-night, even in a boat. Let us light a fire and cook food. We be tired men/
They looked at the litter inquiringly. Within, the Deputy Commissioner of the Kot-Kumharsen district lay dying of fever. They had brought him across country, six fighting-men of a frontier clan that he had won over to the paths of a moderate righteousness, when he had broken down at the foot of their inhospitable hills. And Tallan- tire, his assistant, rode with them, heavy-hearted as heavy-eyed with sorrow and lack of sleep. He had served under the sick man for three years, and had learned to love him as men associated in toil of the hardest learn to love — or hate. Dropping from his horse he parted the curtains of the litter and peered inside.
'Orde — Orde, old man, can you hear? We have to wait till the river goes down, worse luck.'
4 1 hear,' returned a dry whisper. 4 Wait till the river goes down. I thought we should reach camp before the dawn. Polly knows. She'll meet me.'
One of the litter -men stared across the river and caught a faint twinkle of light on the far side. He whispered to Tallantire, ' There are his camp- fires, and his wife. They will cross in the morning, for they have better boats. Can he live so long ? ' 140
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Tallantire shook his head. Yardley-Orde was very near to death. What need to vex his soul with hopes of a meeting that could not be ? The river gulped at the banks, brought down a cliff of sand, and snarled the more hungrily. The litter* men sought for fuel in the waste — dried camel" thorn and refuse of the camps that had waited at the ford. Their sword-belts clinked as they moved softly in the haze of the moonlight, and Tallantire's horse coughed to explain that he would like a blanket.
'I'm cold too/ said the voice from the litter. * I fancy this is the end. Poor Polly I '
Tallantire rearranged the blankets ; Khoda Dad Khan, seeing this, stripped off his own heavy* wadded sheepskin coat and added it to the pile. 4 1 shall be warm by the fire presently/ said he. Tallantire took the wasted body of his chief into his arms and held it against his breast. Perhaps if they kept him very warm Orde might live to see his wife once more. If only blind Providence would send a three-f oot fall in the river !
* That's better/ said Orde faintly. 4 Sorry to be a nuisance, but is — is there anything to drink?'
They gave him milk and whisky, and Tallantire felt a little warmth against his own breast. Orde began to mutter.
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'It isn't that I mind dying/ he said 'It's leaving Polly and the district. Thank God! we have no children. Dick, you know, I'm dipped— awfully dipped — debts in my first five years' service. It isn't much of a pension, but enough for her. She has her mother at home. Getting there is the difficulty. And — and — you see, not being a soldier's wife '
4 We'll arrange the passage home, of course,' said Tallantire quietly.
'It's not nice to think of sending round the hat; but, good Lord! how many men I lie here and remember that had to do it ! Morten's dead — he was of my yean Shaughnessy is dead, and he had children ; I remember he used to read us their schooMetters ; what a bore we thought him ! Evans is dead — Kot - Kumharsen killed him! Ricketts of Myndonie is dead — and I'm going too. " Man that is born of a woman is small potatoes and few in the hill." That reminds me, Dick; the four Khusru Kheyl villages in our border want a one^third remittance this spring. That's fair; their crops are bad. See that they get it, and speak to Ferris about the canal. I should like to have lived till that was finished; it means so much for the NorthJndus villages — but Ferris is an idle beggar — wake him up. You'll have charge •of the district till my successor comes. I wish
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they would appoint you permanently ; you know the folk. I suppose it will be Bullows, though. 'Good man, but too weak for frontier work ; and he doesn't understand the priests. The blind priest at Jagai will bear watching. You'll find it in my papers, — in the uniform case, I think. Call the Khusru Kheyl men up; I'll hold my last public audience. Khoda Dad Khan ! '
The leader of the men sprang to the side of the litter, his companions following.
'Men, I'm dying,' said Orde quickly, in the vernacular ; 4 and soon there will be no more Orde Sahib to twist your tails and prevent you from raiding cattle.'
4 God forbid this thing!' broke out the deep bass chorus. * The Sahib is not going to die/
'Yes, he is; and then he will know whether Mahomed speaks truth, or Moses. But you must be good men when I am not here. Such of you as live in our borders must pay your taxes quietly as before. I have spoken of the villages to be gently treated this year. Such of you as live in the hills must refrain from cattle^lifting, and burn no more thatch, and turn a deaf ear to the voice of the priests, who, not knowing the strength of the Government, would lead you into foolish wars, wherein you will surely die and your crops be eaten by strangers. And you must not sack
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any caravans, and must leave your arms at the police-post when you come in ; as has been your custom, and my order. And Tallantire Sahib will be with you, but I do not know who takes my place. I speak now true talk, for I am as it were already dead, my children, — for though ye be strong men, ye are children/
4 And thou art our father and our mother/ broke in Khoda Dad Khan with an oath. * What shall we do, now there is no one to speak for us, or to teach us to go wisely ! '
4 There remains Tallantire Sahib. Go to him ; he knows your talk and your heart. Keep the young men quiet, listen to the old men, and obey. Khoda Dad Khan, take my ring. The watch and chain go to thy brother. Keep those things for my sake, and I will speak to whatever God I may encounter and tell him that the Khusru Kheyl are good men. Ye have my leave to go/
Khoda Dad Khan, the ring upon his finger, choked audibly as he caught the well-known formula that closed an interview. His brother turned to look across the river. The dawn was breaking, and a speck of white showed on the dull silver of the stream. 4 She comes/ said the man under his breath. 'Can he live for another two hours?' And he pulled the newly-acquired watch out of his belt and looked
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uncomprehendingly at the dial, as he had seen Englishmen do.
For two hours the bellying sail tacked and blundered up and down the river, Tallantire still clasping Orde in his arms, and Khoda Dad Khan chafing his feet. He spoke now and again of the district and his wife, but, as the end neared, more frequently of the latter. They hoped he did not know that she was even then risking her life in a crazy native boat to regain him. But the awful foreknowledge of the dying deceived them. Wrenching himself forward, Orde looked through the curtains and saw how near was the sail. 4 That's Polly/ he said simply, though his mouth was wried with agony. * Polly and — the grimmest practical joke ever played on a man. Dick — you'll — have — to — explain/
And an hour later Tallantire met on the bank a woman in a gingham riding-habit and a sun-hat who cried out to him for her husband — her boy and her darling — while Khoda Dad Khan threw himself face-down on the sand and covered his eyes.
The very simplicity of the notion was its charm. What more easy to win a reputation for far-seeing statesmanship, originality, and, above all, deference
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to the desires of the people, than by appointing a child of the country to the rule of that country ? Two hundred millions of the most loving and grateful folk under Her Majesty's dominion would laud the fact, and their praise would endure for ever. Yet he was indifferent to praise or blame as befitted the Very Greatest of All the Viceroys. His administration was based upon principle, and the principle must be enforced in season and out of season. His pen and tongue had created the New India, teeming with possibilities — loud' voiced, insistent, a nation among nations — all his very own. Wherefore the Very Greatest of All the Viceroys took another step in advance, and with it counsel of those who should have advised him on the appointment of a successor to Yardley-Orde. There was a gentleman and a member of the Bengal Civil Service who had won his place and a university degree to boot in fair and open competi- tion with the sons of the English. He was cultured, of the world, and, if report spoke truly, had wisely and, above all, sympathetically ruled a crowded district in South-Eastern Bengal. He had been to England and charmed many drawing-rooms there. His name, if the Viceroy recollected aright, was Mr. Grish Chunder De, M.A. In short, did any- body see any objection to the appointment, always on principle, of a man of the people to rule the
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people? The district in South - Eastern Bengal might with advantage, he apprehended, pass over to a younger civilian of Mr. G. C. De's nationality (who had written a remarkably clever pamphlet on the political value of sympathy in administration) ; and Mr. G. C. De could be transferred northward to Kot-Kumharsen. The Viceroy was averse, on principle, to interfering with appointments under control of the Provincial Governments. He wished it to be understood that he merely recommended and advised in this instance. As regarded the mere question of race, Mr. Grish Chunder De was more English than the English, and yet possessed of that peculiar sympathy and insight which the best among the best Service in the world could only win to at the end of their service.
The stern, black-bearded kings who sit about the Council-board of India divided on the step, with the inevitable result of driving the Very Greatest of All the Viceroys into the borders of hysteria, and a bewildered obstinacy pathetic as that of a child.
4 The principle is sound enough/ said the weary- eyed Head of the Red Provinces in which Kot- Kumharsen lay, for he too held theories. 'The only difficulty is —
4 Put the screw on the district officials ; brigade De with a very strong Deputy Commissioner on
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each side of him; give him the best assistant in the Province ; rub the fear of God into the people beforehand ; and if anything goes wrong, say that his colleagues didn't back him up. All these lovely little experiments recoil on the District'Officer in the end/ said the Knight of the Drawn Sword with a truthful brutality that made the Head of the Red Provinces shudder. And on a tacit understanding of this kind the transfer was accomplished, as quietly as might be for many reasons.
It is sad to think that what goes for public opinion in India did not generally see the wisdom of the Viceroy's appointment. There were not lacking indeed hireling organs, notoriously in the pay of a tyrannous bureaucracy, who more than hinted that His Excellency was a fool, a dreamer of dreams, a doctrinaire, and, worst of all, a trifler with the lives of men. ' The Viceroy's Excellence Gazette,' published in Calcutta, was at pains to thank ' Our beloved Viceroy for once more and again thus gloriously vindicating the potentialities of the Bengali nations for extended executive and administrative duties in foreign parts beyond our ken. We do not at all doubt that our excellent fellow-townsman, Mr. Grish Chunder De, Esq., M.A., will uphold the prestige of the Bengali, notwithstanding what underhand intrigue and pesh* bundi may be set on foot to insidiously nip his
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fame and blast his prospects among the proud civilians, some of which will now have to serve under a despised native and take orders too. How will you like that, Misters? We entreat our beloved Viceroy still to substantiate himself superiorly to race-prejudice and colour-blindness, and to allow the flower of this now our Civil Service all the full pays and allowances granted to his more fortunate brethren/
III
'When does this man take over charge? I'm alone just now, and I gather that I'm to stand fast under him/
4 Would you have cared for a transfer?' said Bullows keenly. Then, laying his hand on Tallan- tire's shoulder : * We're all in the same boat ; don't desert us. And yet, why the devil should you stay, if you can get another charge ? '
4 It was Orde's,' said Tallantire simply.
'Well, it's De's now. He's a Bengali of the Bengalis, crammed with code and case law; a beautiful man so far as routine and deskwork go, and pleasant to talk to. They naturally have always kept him in his own home district, where all his sisters and his cousins and his aunts lived, some- where south of Dacca. He did no more than turn
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the place into a pleasant little family preserve, allowed his subordinates to do what they liked, and let everybody have a chance at the shekels. Consequently he's immensely popular down there/
'I've nothing to do with that. How on earth am I to explain to the district that they are going to be governed by a Bengali ? Do you — does the Government, I mean — suppose that the Khusru Kheyl will sit quiet when they once know ? What will the Mahomedan heads of villages say ? How will the police — Muzbi Sikhs and Pathans — how will they work under him ? We couldn't say any' thing if the Government appointed a sweeper ; but my people will say a good deal, you know that. It's a piece of cruel folly I '
' My dear boy, I know all that, and more. I've represented it, and have been told that I am ex^ hibiting " culpable and puerile prejudice." By Jove, if the Khusru Kheyl don't exhibit something worse than that I don't know the Border ! The chances are that you will have the district alight on your hands, and I shall have to leave my work and help you pull through. I needn't ask you to stand by the Bengali man in every possible way. You'll do that for your own sake.'
4 For Ode's. I can't say that I care twopence personally/
4 Don't be an ass. It's grievous enough, God
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knows, and the Government will know later on j but that's no reason for your sulking. You must try to run the district; you must stand between him and as much insult as possible ; you must show him the ropes ; you must pacify the Khusru Kheyl, and just warn Curbar of the Police to look out for trouble by the way. I'm always at the end of a telegraph'wire, and willing to peril my reputation to hold the district together. You'll lose yours, of course. If you keep things straight, and he isn't actually beaten with a stick when he's on tour, he'll get all the credit. If anything goes wrong, you'll be told that you didn't support him loyally.'
4 1 know what I've got to do,' said Tallantire wearily, ' and I'm going to it. But it's hard.'
4 The work is with us, the event is with Allah, — as Orde used to say when he was more than usually in hot water/ And Bullows rode away.
That two gentlemen in Her Majesty's Bengal Civil Service should thus discuss a third, also in that service, and a cultured and affable man withal, seems strange and saddening. Yet listen to the artless babble of the Blind Mullah of Jagai, the priest of the Khusru Kheyl, sitting upon a rock overlooking the Border. Five years before, a chance'hurled shell from a screw^gun battery had dashed earth in the face of the Mullah, then urging a rush of Ghazis against half a dozen
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British bayonets. So he became blind, and hated the English none the less for the little accident. Yardley'Orde knew his failing, and had many times laughed at him therefor.
'Dogs you are/ said the Blind Mullah to the listening tribesmen round the fire. ' Whipped dogs! Because you listened to Orde Sahib and called him father and behaved as his children, the British Government have proven how they regard you. Orde Sahib ye know is dead/
' Ai ! ai ! ai ! ' said half a dozen voices.
'He was a man. Comes now in his stead, whom think ye ? A Bengali of Bengal — an eater of fish from the South/
'A lie!' said Khoda Dad Khan. 'And but for the small matter of thy priesthood, I'd drive my gun butt'first down thy throat/
' Oho, art thou there, lickspittle of the English ? Go in to-morrow across the Border to pay service to Orde Sahib's successor, and thou shalt slip thy shoes at the tent*door of a Bengali, as thou shalt hand thy offering to a Bengali's black fist. This I know; and in my youth, when a young man spoke evil to a Mullah holding the doors of Heaven and Hell, the gun-butt was not rammed down the Mullah's gullet. No 1 '
The Blind Mullah hated Khoda Dad Khan with Afghan hatred, both being rivals for the
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headship of the tribe; but the latter was feared for bodily as the other for spiritual gifts. Khoda Dad Khan looked at Orde's ring and grunted, 4 1 go in to-morrow because I am not an old fool, preach- ing war against the English. If the Government, smitten with madness, have done this, then . . /
'Then/ croaked the Mullah, 'thou wilt take out the young men and strike at the four villages within the Border ? '
4 Or wring thy neck, black raven of Jehannum, for a bearer of ill-tidings/
Khoda Dad Khan oiled his long locks with great care, put on his best Bokhara belt, a new turban-cap, and fine green shoes, and accompanied by a few friends came down from the hills to pay a visit to the new Deputy Commissioner of Rot* Kumharsen. Also he bore tribute — four or five priceless gold mohurs of Akbar's time in a white handkerchief. These the Deputy Commissioner would touch and remit. The little ceremony used to be a sign that, so far as Khoda Dad Khan's personal influence went, the Khusru Kheyl would be good boys, — till the next time; especially if Khoda Dad Khan happened to like the new Deputy Commissioner. In Yardley-Orde's consul* ship his visit concluded with a sumptuous dinner and perhaps forbidden liquors ; certainly with some wonderful tales and great good-fellowship.
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Then Khoda Dad Khan would swagger back to his hold, vowing that Orde Sahib was one prince and Tallantire Sahib another, and that whosoever went a Braiding into British territory would be flayed alive. On this occasion he found the Deputy Commissioner's tents looking much as usual. Regarding himself as privileged he strode through the open door to confront a suave, portly Bengali in English costume writing at a table. Unversed in the elevating influence of education, and not in the least caring for university degrees, Khoda Dad Khan promptly set the man down for a Babu — the native clerk of the Deputy Commissioner — a hated and despised animal.
'Ugh!' said he cheerfully. ' Where's your master, Babujee ? '
M am the Deputy Commissioner/ said the gentleman in English.
Now he overvalued the effects of university degrees, and stared Khoda Dad Khan in the face. But if from your earliest infancy you have been accustomed to look on battle, murder, and sudden death, if spilt blood affects your nerves as much as red paint, and, above all, if you have faithfully believed that the Bengali was the servant of all Hindustan, and that all Hindustan was vastly inferior to your own large, lustful self, you can endure, even though uneducated, a very large
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amount of looking over. You can even stare down a graduate of an Oxford college if the latter has been born in a hothouse, of stock bred in a hot' house, and fearing physical pain as some men fear sin ; especially if your opponent's mother has frightened him to sleep in his youth with horrible stories of devils inhabiting Afghanistan, and dismal legends of the black North. The eyes behind the gold spectacles sought the floor. Khoda Dad Khan chuckled, and swung out to find Tallantire hard by. * Here/ said he roughly, thrusting the coins before him, * touch and remit. That answers for my good behaviour. But, O Sahib, has the Government gone mad to send a black Bengali dog to us ? And am I to pay service to such an one ? And are you to work under him ? What does it mean ? r
4 It is an order/ said Tallantire. He had expected something of this kind. 4 He is a very clever S'Sahib.'
1 He a Sahib ! He's a kola admi — a black man — unfit to run at the tail of a potter's donkey. All the peoples of the earth have harried Bengal. It is written. Thou knowest when we of the North wanted women or plunder whither went we ? To Bengal — where else ? What child's talk is this of Sahibdom — after Orde Sahib too I Of a truth the Blind Mullah was right.'
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4 What of him?' asked Tallantire uneasily. He mistrusted that old man with his dead eyes and his deadly tongue.
4 Nay, now, because of the oath that I sware to Orde Sahib when we watched him die by the river yonder, I will tell. In the first place, is it true that the English have set the heel of the Bengali on their own neck, and that there is no more English rule in the land ? '
'I am here,' said Tallantire, 'and I serve the Maharanee of England.'
'The Mullah said otherwise, and further that because we loved Orde Sahib the Government sent us a pig to show that we were dogs, who till now have been held by the strong hand. Also that they were taking away the white soldiers, that more Hindustanis might come, and that all was changing.'
This is the worst of ill-considered handling of a very large country. What looks so feasible in Calcutta, so right in Bombay, so unassailable in Madras, is misunderstood by the North, and entirely changes its complexion on the banks of the Indus. Khoda Dad Khan explained as clearly as he could that, though he himself intended to be good, he really could not answer for the more reckless members of his tribe under the leadership of the Blind Mullah. They might or they might
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not give trouble, but they certainly had no intention whatever of obeying the new Deputy Commissioner. Was Tallantire perfectly sure that in the event of any systematic bordered' ing the force in the district could put it down promptly ?
'Tell the Mullah if he talks any more fool's talk/ said Tallantire curtly, l that he takes his men on to certain death, and his tribe to blockade, trespass-fine, and blood-money. But why do I talk to one who no longer carries weight in the counsels of the tribe ? '
Khoda Dad Khan pocketed that insult. He had learned something that he much wanted to know, and returned to his hills to be sarcastically complimented by the Mullah, whose tongue raging round the camp-fires was deadlier flame than ever dung-cake fed.
IV
Be pleased to consider here for a moment the unknown district of Kot-Kumharsen. It lay cut lengthways by the Indus under the line of the Khusru hills — ramparts of useless earth and tumbled stone. It was seventy miles long by fifty broad, maintained a population of something less than two hundred thousand, and paid taxes to the
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extent of forty thousand pounds a year on an area that was by rather more than half sheer, hopeless waste. The cultivators were not gentle people, the miners for salt were less gentle still, and the cattle-breeders least gentle of all. A police * post in the top right-hand corner and a tiny mud fort in the top left-hand corner prevented as much salt-smuggling and cattle-lifting as the influence of the civilians could not put down j and in the bottom right-hand corner lay Jumala, the district headquarters — a pitiful knot of lime-washed barns facetiously rented as houses, reeking with frontier fever, leaking in the rain, and ovens in the summer.
It was to this place that Grish Chunder De was travelling, there formally to take over charge of the district. But the news of his coming had gone before. Bengalis were as scarce as poodles among the simple Borderers, who cut each other's heads open with their long spades and worshipped impartially at Hindu and Mahomedan shrines. They crowded to see him, pointing at him, and diversely comparing him to a gravid milch-buffalo, or a broken-down horse, as their limited range of metaphor prompted. They laughed at his police- guard, and wished to know how long the burly Sikhs were going to lead Bengali apes. They inquired whether he had brought his women with
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him, and advised him explicitly not to tamper with theirs. It remained for a wrinkled hag by the roadside to slap her lean breasts as he passed, crying, * I have suckled six that could have eaten six thousand of him. The Government shot them, and made this That a king!' Whereat a blue* turbaned huge 'boned plough - mender shouted, 4 Have hope, mother o' minel He may yet go the way of thy wastrels/ And the children, the little brown puff-balls, regarded curiously. It was generally a good thing for infancy to stray into Orde Sahib's tent, where copper coins were to be won for the mere wishing, and tales of the most authentic, such as even their mothers knew but the first half of. No ! This fat black man could never tell them how Pir Prith hauled the eye-teeth out of ten devils ; how the big stones came to lie all in a row on top of the Khusru hills, and what happened if you shouted through the village- gate to the gray wolf at even * Badl Khas is dead/ Meantime Grish Chunder De talked hastily and much to Tallantire, after the manner of those who are ' more English than the English/ — of Oxford and 'home/ with much curious book-knowledge of bump - suppers, cricket - matches, hunting - runs, and other unholy sports of the alien. 4 We must get these fellows in hand/ he said once or twice uneasily ; * get them well in hand, and drive them
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on a tight rein. No use, you know, being slack with your district/
And a moment later Tallantire heard Debendra Nath De, who brotherliwise had followed his kins* man's fortune and hoped for the shadow of his protection as a pleader, whisper in Bengali, 4 Better are dried fish at Dacca than drawn swords at Delhi. Brother of mine, these men are devils, as our mother said. And you will always have to ride upon a horse ! '
That night there was a public audience in a broken-down little town thirty miles from Jumala, when the new Deputy Commissioner, in reply to the greetings of the subordinate native officials, delivered a speech. It was a carefully thought-out speech, which would have been very valuable had not his third sentence begun with three innocent words, * Hamara hoohum hai — It is my order/ Then there was a laugh, clear and bell-like, from the back of the big tent, where a few border land- holders sat, and the laugh grew and scorn mingled with it, and the lean, keen face of Debendra Nath De paled, and Grish Chunder turning to Tallantire spake : * You — you put up this arrangement/ Upon that instant the noise of hoofs rang with- out, and there entered Curbar, the District Superintendent of Police, sweating and dusty. The State had tossed him into a corner of the
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province for seventeen weary years, there to check smuggling of salt, and to hope for promotion that never came. He had forgotten how to keep his white uniform clean, had screwed rusty spurs into patent-leather shoes, and clothed his head indiffer- ently with a helmet or a turban. Soured, old, worn with heat and cold, he waited till he should be entitled to sufficient pension to keep him from starving.
4 Tallantire/ said he, disregarding Grish Chunder De, 'come outside. I want to speak to you/ They withdrew. 'It's this/ continued Curbar. 4 The Khusru Kheyl have rushed and cut up half a dozen of the coolies on Ferris's new canal- embankment; killed a couple of men and carried off a woman. I wouldn't trouble you about that —Ferris is after them and Hugonin, my assistant, with ten mounted police. But that's only the beginning, I fancy. Their fires are out on the Hassan Ardeb heights, and unless we're pretty quick there'll be a flare-up all along our Border. They are sure to raid the four Khusru villages on our side of the line : there's been bad blood between them for years ; and you know the Blind Mullah has been preaching a holy war since Orde went out. What's your notion ? '
' Damn ! ' said Tallantire thoughtfully. ' Tl begun quick. Well, it seems to me I'd be,
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off to Fort Ziar and get what men I can there to picket among the lowland villages, if it's not too late. Tommy Dodd commands at Fort Ziar, I think. Ferris and Hugonin ought to teach the canal'thieves a lesson, and — No, we can't have the Head of the Police ostentatiously guarding the Treasury. You go back to the canal. I'll wire Bullows to come in to Jumala with a strong police* guard, and sit on the Treasury. They won't touch the place, but it looks well/
4 1 — I — I insist upon knowing what this means,' said the voice of the Deputy Commissioner, who had followed the speakers.
'Oh!' said Curbar, who being in the Police could not understand that fifteen years of education must, on principle, change the Bengali into a Briton. 4 There has been a fight on the Border, and heaps of men are killed. There's going to be another fight, and heaps more will be killed.'
' What for?'
4 Because the teeming millions of this district don't exactly approve of you, and think that under your benign rule they are going to have a good time. It strikes me that you had better make arrangements. I act, as you know, by your orders. What do you advise ? '
* I — I take you all to witness that I have not yet assumed charge of the district,' stammered the
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Deputy Commissioner, not in the tones of the * more English/
'Ah, I thought so. Well, as I was saying, Tallantire, your plan is sound. Carry it out. Do you want an escort ? '
4 No; only a decent horse. But how about wiring to headquarters ? '
'I fancy, from the colour of his cheeks, that your superior officer will send some wonderful telegrams before the night's over. Let him do that, and we shall have half the troops of the province coming up to see what's the trouble. Well, run along, and take care of yourself — the Khusru Kheyl jab upwards from below, remember. Ho 1 Mir Khan, give Tallantire Sahib the best of the horses, and tell five men to ride to Jumala with the Deputy Commissioner Sahib Bahadur. There is a hurry toward/
There was ; and it was not in the least bettered by Debendra Nath De clinging to a policeman's bridle and demanding the shortest, the very shortest way to Jumala. Now originality is fatal to the Bengali. Debendra Nath should have stayed with his brother, who rode steadfastly for Jumala on the railway'line, thanking gods entirely unknown to the most catholic of universities that he had not taken charge of the district, and could still — happy resource of a fertile race ! — fall sick.
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And I grieve to say that when he reached his goal two policemen, not devoid of rude wit, who had been conferring together as they bumped in their saddles, arranged an entertainment for his behoof. It consisted of first one and then the other entering his room with prodigious details of war, the massing of bloodthirsty and devilish tribes, and the burning of towns. It was almost as good, said these scamps, as riding with Curbar after evasive Afghans. Each invention kept the hearer at work for half an hour on telegrams which the sack of Delhi would hardly have justified. To every power that could move a bayonet or transfer a terrified man, Grish Chunder De appealed telegraphically. He was alone, his assistants had fled, and in truth he had not taken over charge of the district. Had the telegrams been despatched many things would have occurred j but since the only signaller in Jumala had gone to bed, and the station-master, after one look at the tremendous pile of paper, discovered that railway regulations forbade the forwarding of imperial messages, policemen Ram Singh and Nihal Singh were fain to turn the stuff into a pillow and slept on it very comfortably.
Tallantire drove his spurs into a rampant skewbald stallion with china^blue eyes, and settled himself for the forty -mile ride to Fort Ziar.
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Knowing his district blindfold, he wasted no time hunting for short cuts, but headed across the richer grazing-ground to the ford where Orde had died and been buried. The dusty ground deadened the noise of his horse's hoofs, the moon threw his shadow, a restless goblin, before him, and the heavy dew drenched him to the skin. Hillock, scrub that brushed against the horse's belly, unmetalled road where the whip-like foliage of the tamarisks lashed his forehead, illimitable levels of lowland furred with bent and speckled with drowsing cattle, waste, and hillock anew, dragged themselves past, and the skewbald was labouring in the deep sand of the Indus-ford. Tallantire was conscious of no distinct thought till the nose of the dawdling ferry-boat grounded on the farther side, and his horse shied snorting at the white headstone of Orde's grave. Then he uncovered, and shouted that the dead might hear, l They're out, old man ! Wish me luck/ In the chill of the dawn he was hammering with a stirrup-iron at the gate of Fort Ziar, where fifty sabres of that tattered regiment, the Belooch Beshaklis, were supposed to guard Her Majesty's interests along a few hundred miles of Border. This particular fort was commanded by a subaltern, who, born of the ancient family of the Derouletts, naturally answered to the name of Tommy Dodd. Him Tallantire found robed in a
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sheepskin coat, shaking with fever like an aspen, and trying to read the native apothecary's list of invalids.
'So you've come too/ said he. 'Well, we're all sick here, and I don't think I can horse thirty men? but we're bub — bub — bub blessed willing. Stop, does this impress you as a trap or a lie?' He tossed a scrap of paper to Tallantire, on which was written painfully in crabbed Gurmukhi, * We cannot hold young horses. They will feed after the moon goes down in the four border villages issuing from the Jagai pass on the next night.' Then in English round hand — 'Your sincere friend.'
* Good man ! ' said Tallantire. * That's Khoda Dad Khan's work, I know. It's the only piece of English he could ever keep in his head, and he is immensely proud of it. He is playing against the Blind Mullah for his own hand — the treacherous young ruffian I '
' Don't know the politics of the Khusru Kheyl, but if you're satisfied, I am. That was pitched in over the gatehead last night, and I thought we might pull ourselves together and see what was on. Oh, but we're sick with fever here and no mistake ! Is this going to be a big business, think you?' said Tommy Dodd.
Tallantire gave him briefly the outlines of the
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case, and Tommy Dodd whistled and shook with fever alternately. That day he devoted to strategy, the art of war, and the enlivenment of the invalids, till at dusk there stood ready forty'two troopers, lean, worn, and dishevelled, whom Tommy Dodd surveyed with pride, and addressed thus, ' O men I If you die you will go to Hell. Therefore endeavour to keep alive. But if you go to Hell that place cannot be hotter than this place, and we are not told that we shall there suffer from fever. Consequently be not afraid of dying. File out there I ' They grinned, and went.
It will be long ere the Khusru Kheyl forget their night attack on the lowland villages. The Mullah had promised an easy victory and unlimited plunder ; but behold, armed troopers of the Queen had risen out of the very earth, cutting, slashing, and riding down under the stars, so that no man knew where to turn, and all feared that they had brought an army about their ears, and ran back to the hills. In the panic of that flight more men were seen to drop from wounds inflicted by an Afghan knife jabbed upwards, and yet more from long-range carbine-fire. Then there rose a cry of treachery, and when they reached their own
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guarded heights, they had left, with some forty dead and sixty wounded, all their confidence in the Blind Mullah on the plains below. They clamoured, swore, and argued round the fires; the women wailing for the lost, and the Mullah shrieking curses on the returned.
Then Khoda Dad Khan, eloquent and un- breathed, for he had taken no part in the fight, rose to improve the occasion. He pointed out that the tribe owed every item of its present mis- fortune to the Blind Mullah, who had lied in every possible particular and talked them into a trap. It was undoubtedly an insult that a Bengali, the son of a Bengali, should presume to administer the Border, but that fact did not, as the Mullah pre- tended, herald a general time of license and lifting ; and the inexplicable madness of the English had not in the least impaired their power of guarding their marches. On the contrary, the baffled and out-generalled tribe would now, just when their food-stock was lowest, be blockaded from any trade with Hindustan until they had sent hostages for good behaviour, paid compensation for dis- turbance, and blood-money at the rate of thirty- six English pounds per head for every villager that they might have slain. 'And ye know that those lowland dogs will make oath that we have slain scores. Will the Mullah pay the fines or
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must we sell our guns ? ' A low growl ran round the fires. * Now, seeing that all this is the Mullah's work, and that we have gained nothing but promises of Paradise thereby, it is in my heart that we of the Khusru Kheyl lack a shrine whereat to pray. We are weakened, and henceforth how shall we dare to cross into the Madar Kheyl border, as has been our custom, to kneel to Pir Sajji's tomb? The Madar men will fall upon us, and rightly. But our Mullah is a holy man. He has helped two score of us into Paradise this night. Let him therefore accompany his flock, and we will build over his body a dome of the blue tiles of Mooltan, and burn lamps at his feet every Friday night. He shall be a saint : we shall have a shrine ; and there our women shall pray for fresh seed to fill the gaps in our fighting'tale. How think you ? '
A grim chuckle followed the suggestion, and the soft wheep, wheep of unscabbarded knives followed the chuckle. It was an excellent notion, and met a long'felt want of the tribe. The Mullah sprang to his feet, glaring with withered eyeballs at the drawn death he could not see, and calling down the curses of God and Mahomed on the tribe. Then began a game of blind man's buff round and between the fires, whereof Khuruk Shah, the tribal poet, has sung in verse that will not die.
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They tickled him gently under the armpit with the knife'point. He leaped aside screaming, only to feel a cold blade drawn lightly over the back of his neck, or a rifle^muzzle rubbing his beard. He called on his adherents to aid him, but most of these lay dead on the plains, for Khoda Dad Khan had been at some pains to arrange their decease. Men described to him the glories of the shrine they would build, and the little children clapping their hands cried, * Run, Mullah, run ! There's a man behind you!' In the end, when the sport wearied, Khoda Dad Khan's brother sent a knife home between his ribs. * Wherefore,' said Khoda Dad Khan with charming simplicity, ' I am now Chief of the Khusru Kheyl ! ' No man gainsaid him ; and they all went to sleep very stiff and sore.
On the plain below Tommy Dodd was lecturing on the beauties of a cavalry charge by night, and Tallantire, bowed on his saddle, was gasping hysterically because there was a sword dangling from his wrist flecked with the blood of the Khusru Kheyl, the tribe that Orde had kept in leash so well. When a Rajpoot trooper pointed out that the skewbald's right ear had been taken off at the root by some blind slash of its unskilled rider, Tallantire broke down altogether, and laughed and sobbed till Tommy Dodd made him lie down and rest.
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4 We must wait about till the morning/ said he. 4 1 wired to the Colonel just before we left, to send a wing of the Beshaklis after us. He'll be furious with me for monopolising the fun, though. Those beggars in the hills won't give us any more trouble/
' Then tell the Beshaklis to go on and see what has happened to Curbar on the canal. We must patrol the whole line of the Border. You're quite sure, Tommy, that — that stuff was — was only the skewbald's ear ? '
'Oh, quite/ said Tommy. 'You just missed cutting off his head. / saw you when we went into the mess. Sleep, old man/
Noon brought two squadrons of Beshaklis and a knot of furious brother officers demanding the court-martial of Tommy Dodd for 'spoiling the picnic/ and a gallop across country to the canal- works where Ferris, Curbar, and Hugonin were haranguing the terror-stricken coolies on the enormity of abandoning good work and high pay, merely because half a dozen of their fellows had been cut down. The sight of a troop of the Beshaklis restored wavering confidence, and the police-hunted section of the Khusru Kheyl had the joy of watching the canal-bank humming with life as usual, while such of their men as had taken refuge in the water-courses and ravines were being
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driven out by the troopers. By sundown began the remorseless patrol of the Border by police and trooper, most like the cow-boys' eternal ride round restless cattle.
4 Now/ said Khoda Dad Khan to his fellows, pointing out a line of twinkling fires below, * ye may see how far the old order changes. After their horse will come the little devil-guns that they can drag up to the tops of the hills, and, for aught I know, to the clouds when we crown the hills. If the tribe-council thinks good, I will go to Tallantire Sahib — who loves me — and see if I can stave off at least the blockade. Do I speak for the tribe ? '
* Ay, speak for the tribe in God's name. How those accursed fires wink ! Do the English send their troops on the wire — or is this the work of the Bengali ? *
As Khoda Dad Khan went down the hill he was delayed by an interview with a hard-pressed tribesman, which caused him to return hastily for something he had forgotten. Then, handing himself over to the two troopers who had been chasing his friend, he claimed escort to Tallantire Sahib, then with Bullows at Jumala. The Border was safe, and the time for reasons in writing had begun.
4 Thank Heaven!' said Bullows, 'that the trouble came at once. Of course we can never
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put down the reason in black and white, but all India will understand. And it is better to have a sharp short outbreak than five years of impotent administration inside the Border. It costs less. Grish Chunder De has reported himself sick, and has been transferred to his own province without any sort of reprimand. He was strong on not having taken over the district/
'Of course/ said Tallantire bitterly. 'Well, what am I supposed to have done that was wrong ? '
'Oh, you will be told that you exceeded all your powers, and should have reported, and written, and advised for three weeks until the Khusru Kheyl could really come down in force. But I don't think the authorities will dare to make a fuss about it. They've had their lesson. Have you seen Curbar's version of the affair ? He can't write a report, but he can speak the truth/
'What's the use of the truth? He'd much better tear up the report. I'm sick and heartbroken over it all. It was so utterly unnecessary — except in that it rid us of that Babu/
Entered unabashed Khoda Dad Khan, a stuffed forage-net in his hand, and the troopers behind him.
'May you never be tired!' said he cheerily. ' Well, Sahibs, that was a good fight, and Nairn
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Shah's mother is in debt to you, Tallantire Sahib. A clean cut, they tell me, through jaw, wadded coat, and deep into the collarbone. Well done! But I speak for the tribe. There has been a fault —a great fault. Thou knowest that I and mine, Tallantire Sahib, kept the oath we sware to Orde Sahib on the banks of the Indus/
4 As an Afghan keeps his knife — sharp on one side, blunt on the other/ said Tallantire.
4 The better swing in the blow, then. But I speak God's truth. Only the Blind Mullah carried the young men on the tip of his tongue, and said that there was no more BordeMaw because a Bengali had been sent, and we need not fear the English at all. So they came down to avenge that insult and get plunder. Ye know what befell, and how far I helped. Now five score of us are dead or wounded, and we are all shamed and sorry, and desire no further war. Moreover, that ye may better listen to us, we have taken off the head of the Blind Mullah, whose evil counsels have led us to folly. I bring it for proof/ — and he heaved on the floor the head. 4 He will give no more trouble, for / am chief now, and so I sit in a higher place at all audiences. Yet there is an offset to this head. That was another fault. One of the men found that black Bengali beast, through whom this trouble arose, wandering on horseback and weeping.
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Reflecting that he had caused loss of much good life, Alia Dad Khan, whom, if you choose, I will to-morrow shoot, whipped off this head, and I bring it to you to cover your shame, that ye may bury it. See, no man kept the spectacles, though they were of gold/
Slowly rolled to Tallantire's feet the crop^haired head of a spectacled Bengali gentleman, open-eyed, open-mouthed — the head of Terror incarnate. Bullows bent down. * Yet another bloodline and a heavy one, Khoda Dad Khan, for this is the head of Debendra Nath, the man's brother. The Babu is safe long since. All but the fools of the Khusru Kheyl know that/
* Well, I care not for carrion. Quick meat for me. The thing was under our hills asking the road to Jumala, and Alia Dad Khan showed him the road to Jehannum, being, as thou sayest, but a fool. Remains now what the Government will do to us. As to the blockade—
* Who art thou, seller of dog's flesh/ thundered Tallantire, 4 to speak of terms and treaties ? Get hence to the hills — go, and wait there starving, till it shall please the Government to call thy people out for punishment — children and fools that ye be 1 Count your dead, and be still. Rest assured that the Government will send you a manV
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4 Ay/ returned Khoda Dad Khan, * for we also be men/
As he looked Tallantire between the eyes, he added, 'And by God, Sahib, may thou be that man I'
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Before my Spring I garnered Autumn's gain, Out of her time my field was white with grain,
The year gave up her secrets to my woe. Forced and deflowered each sick season lay, In mystery of increase and decay ; I saw the sunset ere men saw the day,
Who am too wise in that I should not know.
Bitter Waters.
I
BUT if it be a girl?' 4 Lord of my life, it cannot be. I have prayed for so many nights, and sent gifts to Sheikh Badl's shrine so often, that I know God will give us a son — a man-child that shall grow into a man. Think of this and be glad. My mother shall be his mother till I can take him again, and the mullah of the Pattan mosque shall cast his nativity — God send he be born in an auspicious hour I — and then, and then thou wilt never weary of me, thy slave/ L.H. Vol.1 177 N
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4 Since when hast thou been a slave, my queen ? '
* Since the beginning — till this mercy came to me. How could I be sure of thy love when I knew that I had been bought with silver ? *
'Nay, that was the dowry. I paid it to thy mother/
4 And she has buried it, and sits upon it all day long like a hen. What talk is yours of dower I I was bought as though I had been a Lucknow dancing-girl instead of a child/
4 Art thou sorry for the sale ? r
4 1 have sorrowed ; but to-day I am glad. Thou wilt never cease to love me now? — answer, my king/
4 Never — never. No/
4 Not even though the mem 'log — the white women of thy own blood — love thee? And remember, I have watched them driving in the evening ; they are very fair/
4 1 have seen fire-balloons by the hundred. I have seen the moon, and — then I saw no more fire-balloons/
Ameera clapped her hands and laughed. 4 Very good talk/ she said. Then with an assumption of great stateliness, 4 It is enough. Thou hast my permission to depart, — if thou wilt/
The man did not move. He was sitting on a low red-lacquered couch in a room furnished only
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with a blue and white floor-cloth, some rugs, and a very complete collection of native cushions. At his feet sat a woman of sixteen, and she was all but all the world in his eyes. By every rule and law she should have been otherwise, for he was an Englishman, and she a Mussulman's daughter bought two years before from her mother, who, being left without money, would have sold Ameera shrieking to the Prince of Darkness if the price had been sufficient.
It was a contract entered into with a light heart ; but even before the girl had reached her bloom she came to fill the greater portion of John Holden's life. For her, and the withered hag her mother, he had taken a little house overlooking the great red-walled city, and found, — when the marigolds had sprung up by the well in the court- yard, and Ameera had established herself according to her own ideas of comfort, and her mother had ceased grumbling at the inadequacy of the cooking- places, the distance from the daily market, and at matters of house - keeping in general, — that the house was to him his home. Any one could enter his bachelor's bungalow by day or night, and the life that he led there was an unlovely one. In the house in the city his feet only could pass beyond the outer courtyard to the women's rooms ; and when the big wooden gate was bolted behind him
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he was king in his own territory, with Ameera for queen. And there was going to be added to this kingdom a third person whose arrival Holden felt inclined to resent. It interfered with his perfect happiness. It disarranged the orderly peace of the house that was his own. But Ameera was wild with delight at the thought of it, and her mother not less so. The love of a man, and particularly a white man, was at the best an inconstant affair, but it might, both women argued, be held fast by a baby's hands. 4 And then/ Ameera would always say, 4 then he will never care for the white mem'log. I hate them all — I hate them all/
'He will go back to his own people in time/ said the mother ; * but by the blessing of God that time is yet afar off/
Holden sat silent on the couch thinking of the future, and his thoughts were not pleasant. The drawbacks of a double life are manifold. The Government, with singular care, had ordered him out of the station for a fortnight on special duty in the place of a man who was watching by the bedside of a sick wife. The verbal notification of the transfer had been edged by a cheerful remark that Holden ought to think himself lucky in being a bachelor and a free man. He came to break the news to Ameera.
4 It is not good/ she said slowly, * but it is not
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all bad. There is my mother here, and no harm will come to me — unless indeed I die of pure joy. Go thou to thy work and think no troublesome thoughts. When the days are done I believe . . . nay, I am sure. And — and then I shall lay him in thy arms, and thou wilt love me for ever. The train goes to-night, at midnight is it not? Go now, and do not let thy heart be heavy by cause of me. But thou wilt not delay in returning? Thou wilt not stay on the road to talk to the bold white meni'log. Come back to me swiftly, my life/ As he left the courtyard to reach his horse that was tethered to the gate-post, Holden spoke to the white-haired old watchman who guarded the house, and bade him under certain contingencies despatch the filled-up telegraph-form that Holden gave him. It was all that could be done, and with the sensations of a man who has attended his own funeral Holden went away by the night mail to his exile. Every hour of the day he dreaded the arrival of the telegram, and every hour of the night he pictured to himself the death of Ameera. In consequence his work for the State was not of first-rate quality, nor was his temper towards his colleagues of the most amiable. The fortnight ended without a sign from his home, and, torn to pieces by his anxieties, Holden returned to be swallowed up for two precious hours by a dinner
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at the club, wherein he heard, as a man hears in a swoon, voices telling him how execrably he had performed the other man's duties, and how he had endeared himself to all his associates. Then he fled on horseback through the night with his heart in his mouth. There was no answer at first to his blows on the gate, and he had just wheeled his horse round to kick it in when Pir Khan appeared with a lantern and held his stirrup.
* Has aught occurred ? ' said Holden.
4 The news does not come from my mouth,
Protector of the Poor, but ' He held out his
shaking hand as befitted the bearer of good news who is entitled to a reward.
Holden hurried through the courtyard. A light burned in the upper room. His horse neighed in the gateway, and he heard a shrill little wail that sent all the blood into the apple of his throat. It was a new voice, but it did not prove that Ameera was alive.
4 Who is there ? ' he called up the narrow brick staircase.
There was a cry of delight from Ameera, and then the voice of the mother, tremulous with old age and pride — 'We be two women and — the — man — thy — son/
On the threshold of the room Holden stepped on a naked dagger, that was laid there to avert
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ill-luck, and it broke at the hilt under his impatient heel.
' God is great I ' cooed Ameera in the half -light, 4 Thou hast taken his misfortunes on thy head/
* Ay, but how is it with thee, life of my life ? Old woman, how is it with her ? '
'She has forgotten her sufferings for joy that the child is born. There is no harm ; but speak softly/ said the mother.
4 It only needed thy presence to make me all well/ said Ameera. 'My king, thou hast been very long away. What gifts hast thou for me ? Ah, ah I It is I that bring gifts this time. Look, my life, look. Was there ever such a babe? Nay, I am too weak even to clear my arm from him/
4 Rest then, and do not talk. I am here, bachari [little woman]/
'Well said, for there is a bond and a heel-rope [peecharee] between us now that nothing can break. Look — canst thou see in this light ? He is without spot or blemish. Never was such a man-child. Ya ittah ! he shall be a pundit — no, a trooper of the Queen. And, my life, dost thou love me as well as ever, though I am faint and sick and worn ? Answer truly/
4 Yea. I love as I have loved, with all my soul. Lie still, pearl, and rest/
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'Then do not go. Sit by my side here — so. Mother, the lord of this house needs a cushion. Bring it/ There was an almost imperceptible movement on the part of the new life that lay in the hollow of Ameera's arm. ' Aho ! ' she said, her voice breaking with love. 'The babe is a champion from his birth. He is kicking me in the side with mighty kicks. Was there ever such a babe ! And he is ours to us — thine and mine. Put thy hand on his head, but carefully, for he is very young, and men are unskilled in such matters/
Very cautiously Holden touched with the tips of his fingers the downy head.
4 He is of the Faith/ said Ameera ; ' for lying here in the night-watches I whispered the call to prayer and the profession of faith into his ears. And it is most marvellous that he was born upon a Friday, as I was born. Be careful of him, my life ; but he can almost grip with his hands/
Holden found one helpless little hand that closed feebly on his finger. And the clutch ran through his body till it settled about his heart. Till then his sole thought had been for Ameera. He began to realise that there was some one else in the world, but he could not feel that it was a veritable son with a soul. He sat down to think, and Ameera dozed lightly.
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'Get hence, sahib? said her mother under her breath. ' It is not good that she should find you here on waking. She must be still/
'I go/ said Holden submissively. 'Here be rupees. See that my baba gets fat and finds all that he needs/
The chink of the silver roused Ameera. * I am his mother, and no hireling/ she said weakly. * Shall I look to him more or less for the sake of money? Mother, give it back. I have borne my lord a son/
The deep sleep of weakness came upon her almost before the sentence was completed. Holden went down to the courtyard very softly with his heart at ease. Pir Khan, the old watchman, was chuckling with delight. 4 This house is now com' plete/ he said, and without further comment thrust into Holden's hands the hilt of a sabre worn many years ago when he, Pir Khan, served the Queen in the police. The bleat of a tethered goat came from the well'kerb.
* There be two/ said Pir Khan, * two goats of the best. I bought them, and they cost much money ; and since there is no birth-party assembled their flesh will be all mine. Strike craftily, sahib I 'Tis an ill ^balanced sabre at the best. Wait till they raise their heads from cropping the mari- golds/
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* And why ? ' said Holden, bewildered.
'For the birth - sacrifice. What else? Other' wise the child being unguarded from fate may die. The Protector of the Poor knows the fitting words to be said/
Holden had learned them once with little thought that he would ever speak them in earnest. The touch of the cold sabre^hilt in his palm turned suddenly to the clinging grip of the child upstairs — the child that was his own son — and a dread of loss filled him.
4 StrikeT said Pir Khan. 4 Never life came into the world but life was paid for it. See, the goats have raised their heads. Now I With a drawing cut ! '
Hardly knowing what he did, Holden cut twice as he muttered the Mahomedan prayer that runs : 4 Almighty I In place of this my son I offer life for life, blood for blood, head for head, bone for bone, hair for hair, skin for skin/ The waiting horse snorted and bounded in his pickets at the smell of the raw blood that spirted over Holden's riding^boots.
'Well smitten!' said Pir Khan, wiping the sabre. 4 A swordsman was lost in thee. Go with a light heart, Heaven - born. I am thy servant, and the servant of thy son. May the Presence live a thousand years and . . . the flesh of the
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goats is all mine ? * Pir Khan drew back richer by a month's pay. Holden swung himself into the saddle and rode off through the low'hanging wood' smoke of the evening. He was full of riotous exultation, alternating with a vast vague tenderness directed towards no particular object, that made him choke as he bent over the neck of his uneasy horse. 'I never felt like this in my life/ he thought. Til go to the club and pull myself together/
A game of pool was beginning, and the room was full of men. Holden entered, eager to get to the light and the company of his fellows, singing at the top of his voice —
' In Baltimore a-walking, a lady I did meet I '
'Did you?' said the club^secretary from his corner. 'Did she happen to tell you that your boots were wringing wet ? Great goodness, man,
it's bioodr
'Bosh I' said Holden, picking his cue from the rack. * May I cut in ? It's dew. I've been riding through high crops. My faith I my boots are in a mess though !
' And if it be a girl she shall wear a wedding-ring, And if it be a boy he shall fight for his king, With his dirk, and his cap, and his little jacket blue, He shall walk the quarter-deck — '
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4 Yellow on blue — green next player/ said the marker monotonously,
4 He shall walk the quarter 'deck, — Am I green, marker? He shall walk the quarterdeck, — eh I that's a bad shot, — as his daddy used to do ! '
4\ don't see that you have anything to crow about/ said a zealous junior civilian acidly, * The Government is not exactly pleased with your work when you relieved Sanders/
4 Does that mean a wigging from headquarters ? ' said Holden with an abstracted smile. ' I think I can stand it/
The talk beat up round the ever^fresh subject of each man's work, and steadied Holden till it was time to go to his dark empty bungalow, where his butler received him as one who knew all his affairs. Holden remained awake for the greater part of the night, and his dreams were pleasant ones.
II
* How old is he now ? '
4 Ya illah ! What a man's question 1 He is all but six weeks old j and on this night I go up to the house'top with thee, my life, to count the stars. For that is auspicious. And he was born on a Friday under the sign of the Sun, and it has been told to me that he will outlive us both and
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get wealth. Can we wish for aught better, be- loved?'
4 There is nothing better. Let us go up to the roof, and thou shalt count the stars — but a few only, for the sky is heavy with cloud/
'The winter rains are late, and maybe they come out of season. Come, before all the stars are hid. I have put on my richest jewels/
* Thou hast forgotten the best of all/
' Ail Ours. He comes also. He has never yet seen the skies/
Ameera climbed the narrow staircase that led to the flat roof. The child, placid and unwinking, lay in the hollow of her right arm, gorgeous in silver-fringed muslin with a small skull-cap on his head. Ameera wore all that she valued most. The diamond nose-stud that takes the place of the Western patch in drawing attention to the curve of the nostril, the gold ornament in the centre of the forehead studded with tallow-drop emeralds and flawed rubies, the heavy circlet of beaten gold that was fastened round her neck by the softness of the pure metal, and the chinking curb'patterned silver anklets hanging low over the rosy ankle- bone. She was dressed in jade-green muslin as befitted a daughter of the Faith, and from shoulder to elbow and elbow to wrist ran bracelets of silver tied with floss silk, frail glass bangles slipped over
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the wrist in proof of the slenderness of the hand, and certain heavy gold bracelets that had no part in her country's ornaments, but, since they were Holden's gift and fastened with a cunning European snap, delighted her immensely.
They sat down by the low white parapet of the roof, overlooking the city and its lights,
'They are happy down there/ said Ameera. * But I do not think that they are as happy as we. Nor do I think the white mem4og are as happy. And thou ? '
4 1 know they are not/
4 How dost thou know ? '
4 They give their children over to the nurses/
4 1 have never seen that/ said Ameera with a sigh, ' nor do I wish to see. Ahi 1 ' — she dropped her head on Holden's shoulder, — 4 1 have counted forty stars, and I am tired. Look at the child, love of my life, he is counting too/
The baby was staring with round eyes at the dark of the heavens. Ameera placed him in Holden's arms, and he lay there without a cry.
4 What shall we call him among ourselves ? ' she said. 4 Look ! Art thou ever tired of looking? He carries thy very eyes. But the mouth '
4 Is thine, most dear. Who should know better than I?'
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"Tis such a feeble mouth. Oh, so small! And yet it holds my heart between its lips. Give him to me now. He has been too long away/
4 Nay, let him lie ; he has not yet begun to cry/
'When he cries thou wilt give him back — eh? What a man of mankind thou art ! If he cried he were only the dearer to me. But, my life, what little name shall we give him ? '
The small body lay close to Holden's heart. It was utterly helpless and very soft. He scarcely dared to breathe for fear of crushing it. The caged green parrot that is regarded as a sort of guardian-spirit in most native households moved on its perch and fluttered a drowsy wing.
4 There is the answer/ said Holden. 'Mian Mittu has spoken. He shall be the parrot. When he is ready he will talk mightily and run about. Mian Mittu is the parrot in thy — in the Mussul* man tongue, is it not ? '
4 Why put me so far off ? ' said Ameera f ret* fully. 4 Let it be like unto some English name — but not wholly. For he is mine/
4 Then call him Tota, for that is likest English/
'Ay, Tota, and that is still the parrot. For* give me, my lord, for a minute ago, but in truth he is too little to wear all the weight of Mian Mittu for name. He shall be Tota — our Tota to us. Hearest thou, oh, small one ? Littlest, thou
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art Tota.' She touched the child's cheek, and he waking wailed, and it was necessary to return him to his mother, who soothed him with the wonder* f ul rhyme of Ari koko, ]ari koko I which says—
' Oh crow I Go crow ! Baby's sleeping sound, And the wild plums grow in the jungle, only a penny a pound. Only a penny a pound, baba, only a penny a pound.'
Reassured many times as to the price of those plums, Tota cuddled himself down to sleep. The two sleek, white well-bullocks in the courtyard were steadily chewing the cud of their evening meal; old Pir Khan squatted at the head of Holden's horse, his police sabre across his knees, pulling drowsily at a big water-pipe that croaked like a bull-frog in a pond. Ameera's mother sat spinning in the lower veranda, and the wooden gate was shut and barred. The music of a marriage-procession came to the roof above the gentle hum of the city, and a string of flying- foxes crossed the face of the low moon.
M have prayed/ said Ameera after a long pause, 1 1 have prayed for two things. First, that I may die in thy stead if thy death is demanded, and in the second, that I may die in the place of the child. I have prayed to the Prophet and to Beebee Miriam [the Virgin Mary]. Thinkest thou either will hear ? '
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* From thy lips who would not hear the lightest word ? '
4 1 asked for straight talk, and thou hast given me sweet talk. Will my prayers be heard ? '
1 How can I say ? God is very good/
'Of that I am not sure. Listen now. When I die, or the child dies, what is thy fate ? Living, thou wilt return to the bold white mem4ogt for kind calls to kind/
'Not always/
'With a woman, no; with a man it is other' wise. Thou wilt in this life, later on, go back to thine own folk. That I could almost endure, for I should be dead. But in thy very death thou wilt be taken away to a strange place and a para* dise that I do not know/
'Will it be paradise ?'
'Surely, for who would harm thee? But we two — I and the child — shall be elsewhere, and we cannot come to thee, nor canst thou come to us. In the old days, before the child was born, I did not think of these things; but now I think of them always. It is very hard talk/
' It will fall as it will fall. To-morrow we do not know, but to-day and love we know well. Surely we are happy now/
' So happy that it were well to make our happi* ness assured. And thy Beebee Miriam should
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listen to me ; for she is also a woman. But then she would envy me 1 It is not seemly for men to worship a woman/
Holden laughed aloud at Ameera's little spasm of jealousy.
4 Is it not seemly? Why didst thou not turn me from worship of thee, then ? '
'Thou a worshipper! And of me? My king, for all thy sweet words, well I know that I am thy servant and thy slave, and the dust under thy feet. And I would not have it otherwise. See ! '
Before Holden could prevent her she stooped forward and touched his feet; recovering herself with a little laugh she hugged Tota closer to her bosom. Then, almost savagely —
4 Is it true that the bold white mem4og live for three times the length of my life ? Is it true that they make their marriages not before they are old women ? '
'They marry as do others — when they are women/
'That I know, but they wed when they are twenty 'five. Is that true ? '
'That is true/
4 Ya illah / At twenty.f ive ! Who would of his own will take a wife even of eighteen ? She is a woman — aging every hour. Twenty^five ! I shall be an old woman at that age, and
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Those mem'log remain young for ever. How I hate them ! '
4 What have they to do with us ? '
'I cannot tell. I know only that there may now be alive on this earth a woman ten years older than I who may come to thee and take thy love ten years after I am an old woman, gray-headed, and the nurse of Tota's son. That is unjust and evil. They should die too/
'Now, for all thy years thou art a child, and shalt be picked up and carried down the staircase/
4 Tota I Have a care for Tota, my lord I Thou at least art as foolish as any babe 1 ' Ameera tucked Tota out of harm's way in the hollow of her neck, and was carried downstairs laughing in Holden's arms, while Tota opened his eyes and smiled after the manner of the lesser angels.
He was a silent infant, and, almost before Holden could realise that he was in the world, developed into a small gold-coloured little god and unquestioned despot of the house overlooking the city. Those were months of absolute happiness to Holden and Ameera — happiness withdrawn from the world, shut in behind the wooden gate that Pir Khan guarded. By day Holden did his work with an immense pity for such as were not so fortunate as himself, and a sympathy for small
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children that amazed and amused many mothers at the little station ^gatherings. At nightfall he returned to Ameera, — Ameera, full of the wondrous doings of Tota j how he had been seen to clap his hands together and move his fingers with intention and purpose — which was manifestly a miracle — how later, he had of his own initiative crawled out of his low bedstead on to the floor and swayed on both feet for the space of three breaths.
'And they were long breaths, for my heart stood still with delight/ said Ameera.
Then Tota took the beasts into his councils — the well ' bullocks, the little gray squirrels, the mongoose that lived in a hole near the well, and especially Mian Mittu, the parrot, whose tail he grievously pulled, and Mian Mittu screamed till Ameera and Holden arrived.
' Oh villain ! Child of strength 1 This to thy brother on the housetop! Tobah, tobahl Fie! Fie ! But I know a charm to make him wise as Suleiman and Aflatoun [Solomon and Plato]. Now look/ said Ameera. She drew from an embroidered bag a handful of almonds. 4 See ! we count seven. In the name of God I '
She placed Mian Mittu, very angry and rumpled, on the top of his cage, and seating herself between the babe and the bird she cracked and peeled an almond less white than her teeth. * This is a true
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charm, my life, and do not laugh. See! I give the parrot one^half and Tota the other/ Mian Mittu with careful beak took his share from between Ameera's lips, and she kissed the other half into the mouth of the child, who ate it slowly with wondering eyes. ' This I will do each day of seven, and without doubt he who is ours will be a bold speaker and wise. Eh, Tota, what wilt thou be when thou art a man and I am gray 'headed ? ' Tota tucked his fat legs into adorable creases. He could crawl, but he was not going to waste the spring of his youth in idle speech. He wanted Mian Mittu's tail to tweak.
When he was advanced to the dignity of a silver belt — which, with a magic square engraved on silver and hung round his neck, made up the greater part of his clothing — he staggered on a perilous journey down the garden to Pir Khan, and proffered him all his jewels in exchange for one little ride on Holden's horse, having seen his mother's mother chaffering with pedlars in the veranda. Pir Khan wept and set the untried feet on his own gray head in sign of fealty, and brought the bold adventurer to his mother's arms, vowing that Tota would be a leader of men ere his beard was grown.
One hot evening, while he sat on the roof between his father and mother watching the never..
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ending warfare of the kites that the city boys flew, he demanded a kite of his own with Pir Khan to fly it, because he had a fear of dealing with any* thing larger than himself, and when Holden called him a * spark/ he rose to his feet and answered slowly in defence of his newfound individuality, ' Hum'park nahin hai. Hum admi hai [I am no spark, but a man]/
The protest made Holden choke and devote himself very seriously to a consideration of Totals future. He need hardly have taken the trouble* The delight of that life was too perfect to endure* Therefore it was taken away as many things are taken away in India — suddenly and without warn* ing. The little lord of the house, as Pir Khan called him, grew sorrowful and complained of pains who had never known the meaning of pain. Ameera, wild with terror, watched him through the night, and in the dawning of the second day the life was shaken out of him by fever — the seasonal autumn fever. It seemed altogether im* possible that he could die, and neither Ameera nor Holden at first believed the evidence of the little body on the bedstead. Then Ameera beat her head against the wall and would have flung herself down the well in the garden had Holden not restrained her by main force.
One mercy only was granted to Holden. He
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rode to his office in broad daylight and found wait' ing him an unusually heavy mail that demanded concentrated attention and hard work. He was not, however, alive to this kindness of the gods.
Ill
The first shock of a bullet is no more than a brisk pinch. The wrecked body does not send in its protest to the soul till ten or fifteen seconds later. Holden realised his pain slowly, exactly as he had realised his happiness, and with the same imperious necessity for hiding all trace of it. In the beginning he only felt that there had been a loss, and that Ameera needed comforting, where she sat with her head on her knees shivering as Mian Mittu from the house-top called, Total Total Total Later all his world and the daily life of it rose up to hurt him. It was an outrage that any one of the children at the band-stand in the evening should be alive and clamorous, when his own child lay dead. It was more than mere pain when one of them touched him, and stories told by over-fond fathers of their children's latest performances cut him to the quick. He could not declare his pain. He had neither help, comfort, nor sympathy; and Ameera at the end of each weary day would lead him through the hell of se
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questioning reproach which is reserved for those who have lost a child, and believe that with a little — just a little more care — it might have been saved.
' Perhaps/ Ameera would say, * I did not take sufficient heed. Did I, or did I not ? The sun on the roof that day when he played so long alone and I was — ahi ! braiding my hair — it may be that the sun then bred the fever. If I had warned him from the sun he might have lived. But, oh my life, say that I am guiltless ! Thou knowest that I loved him as I love thee. Say that there is no blame on me, or I shall die — I shall die I *
'There is no blame, — before God, none. It was written, and how could we do aught to save ? What has been, has been. Let it go, beloved/
' He was all my heart to me. How can I let the thought go when my arm tells me every night that he is not here ? Ahi ! Ahi I Oh, Tota, come back to me — come back again, and let us be all together as it was before I '
4 Peace, peace I For thine own sake, and for mine also, if thou lovest me — rest/
4 By this I know thou dost not care ; and how shouldst thou? The white men have hearts of stone and souls of iron. Oh, that I had married a man of mine own people — though he beat me — and had never eaten the bread of an alien I '
4 Am I an alien — mother of my son ? '
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'What else — Sahib? . . . Oh, forgive me— forgive 1 The death has driven me mad. Thou art the life of my heart, and the light of my eyes, and the breath of my life, and — and I have put thee from me, though it was but for a moment. If thou goest away, to whom shall I look for help ? Do not be angry. Indeed, it was the pain that spoke and not thy slave/
4 1 know, I know. We be two who were three. The greater need therefore that we should be one/
They were sitting on the roof as of custom. The night was a warm one in early spring, and sheet'lightning was dancing on the horizon to a broken tune played by far-off thunder. Ameera settled herself in Holden's arms.
'The dry earth is lowing like a cow for the rain, and I — I am afraid. It was not like this when we counted the stars. But thou lovest me as much as before, though a bond is taken away ? Answer ! '
4 1 love more because a new bond has come out of the sorrow that we have eaten together, and that thou knowest/
'Yea, I knew/ said Ameera in a very small whisper. ' But it is good to hear thee say so, my life, who art so strong to help. I will be a child no more, but a woman and an aid to thee.
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Listen! Give me my sitar and I will sing bravely/
She took the light silver-studded sitar and began a song of the great hero Rajah Rasalu. The hand failed on the strings, the tune halted, checked, and at a low note turned off to the poor little nursery-rhyme about the wicked crow —
'And the wild plums grow in the jungle, only a penny a
pound. Only a penny a pound, bdba — only . . .'
Then came the tears, and the piteous rebellion against fate till she slept, moaning a little in her sleep, with the right arm thrown clear of the body as though it protected something that was not there* It was after this night that life became a little easier for Holden. The ever-present pain of loss drove him into his work, and the work repaid him by filling up his mind for nine or ten hours a day. Ameera sat alone in the house and brooded, but grew happier when she understood that Holden was more at ease, according to the custom of women. They touched happiness again, but this time with caution.
4 It was because we loved Tota that he died. The jealousy of God was upon us/ said Ameera. 4 1 have hung up a large black jar before our window to turn the evil eye from us, and we must
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make no protestations of delight, but go softly underneath the stars, lest God find us out. Is that not good talk, worthless one ? '
She had shifted the accent on the word that means * beloved/ in proof of the sincerity of her purpose. But the kiss that followed the new christening was a thing that any deity might have envied. They went about henceforward saying, * It is naught, it is naught ' j and hoping that all the Powers heard.
The Powers were busy on other things. They had allowed thirty million people four years of plenty, wherein men fed well and the crops were certain, and the birth-rate rose year by year j the districts reported a purely agricultural population varying from nine hundred to two thousand to the square mile of the overburdened earth; and the Member for Lower Tooting, wandering about India in top-hat and frock'Coat, talked largely of the benefits of British rule, and suggested as the one thing needful the establishment of a duly qualified electoral system and a general bestowal of the franchise. His long-suffering hosts smiled and made him welcome, and when he paused to admire, with pretty picked words, the blossom of the blood-red dhak'tree that had flowered untimely for a sign of what was coming, they smiled more than ever.
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It was the Deputy Commissioner of Kot' Kumharsen, staying at the club for a day, who lightly told a tale that made Holden's blood run cold as he overheard the end.
4 He won't bother any one any more. Never saw a man so astonished in my life. By Jove, I thought he meant to ask a question in the House about it. Fellow'passenger in his ship — dined next him — bowled over by cholera and died in eighteen hours. You needn't laugh, you fellows. The Member for Lower Tooting is awfully angry about it; but he's more scared. I think he's going to take his enlightened self out of India/
4 I'd give a good deal if he were knocked over. It might keep a few vestrymen of his kidney to their own parish. But what's this about cholera ? It's full early for anything of that kind,' said the warden of an unprofitable salt-lick.
4 Don't know/ said the Deputy Commissioner reflectively. 4 We've got locusts with us. There's sporadic cholera all along the north — at least we're calling it sporadic for decency's sake. The spring crops are short in five districts, and nobody seems to know where the rains are. It's nearly March now. I don't want to scare anybody, but it seems to me that Nature's going to audit her accounts with a big red pencil this summer.
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' Just when I wanted to take leave, too ! ' said a voice across the room.
4 There won't be much leave this year, but there ought to be a great deal of promotion. I've come in to persuade the Government to put my pet canal on the list of famine<-relief works. It's an ill' wind that blows no good. I shall get that canal finished at last.'
' Is it the old programme then/ said Holden ; 4 famine, fever, and cholera ? '
4 Oh no. Only local scarcity and an unusual prevalence of seasonal sickness. You'll find it all in the reports if you live till next year. You're a lucky chap. You haven't got a wife to send out of harm's way. The hill'Stations ought to be full of women this year/
'I think you're inclined to exaggerate the talk in the bazars,' said a young civilian in the Secre^ tariat. * Now I have observed —
'I daresay you have/ said the Deputy missioner, 4 but you've a great deal more to observe, my son. In the meantime, I wish to observe to you — ' and he drew him aside to discuss the construction of the canal that was so dear to his heart. Holden went to his bungalow and began to understand that he was not alone in the world, and also that he was afraid for the sake of another, — which is the most souLsatisfyingfear known to man.
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Two months later, as the Deputy had foretold, Nature began to audit her accounts with a red pencil. On the heels of the spring-reapings came a cry for bread, and the Government, which had decreed that no man should die of want, sent wheat. Then came the cholera from all four quarters of the compass. It struck a pilgrinvgathering of half a million at a sacred shrine. Many died at the feet of their god; the others broke and ran over the face of the land carrying the pestilence with them. It smote a walled city and killed two hundred a day. The people crowded the trains, hanging on to the footboards and squatting on the roofs of the carriages, and the cholera followed them, for at each station they dragged out the dead and the dying. They died by the roadside, and the horses of the Englishmen shied at the corpses in the grass. The rains did not come, and the earth turned to iron lest man should escape death by hiding in her. The English sent their wives away to the hills and went about their work, coming forward as they were bidden to fill the gaps in the fighting- line. Holden, sick with fear of losing his chiefest treasure on earth, had done his best to persuade Ameera to go away with her mother to the Himalayas.
'Why should I go?' said she one evening on the roof.
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* There is sickness, and people are dying, and all the white meni'log have gone/
'All of them?'
'All — unless perhaps there remain some old scald'head who vexes her husband's heart by running risk of death/
' Nay ; who stays is my sister, and thou must not abuse her, for I will be a scald-head too. I am glad all the bold meni'log are gone/
' Do I speak to a woman or a babe ? Go to the hills, and I will see to it that thou goest like a queen's daughter. Think, child. In a red* lacquered bullock cart, veiled and curtained, with brass peacocks upon the pole and red cloth hang' ings. I will send two orderlies for guard and —
'Peace! Thou art the babe in speaking thus. What use are those toys to me ? He would have patted the bullocks and played with the housings. For his sake, perhaps, — thou hast made me very English — I might have gone. Now, I will not. Let the meni'log run/
' Their husbands are sending them, beloved/
'Very good talk. Since when hast thou been my husband to tell me what to do ? I have but borne thee a son. Thou art only all the desire of my soul to me. How shall I depart when I know that if evil befall thee by the breadth of so much as my littlest finger-nail — is that not small? — I
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should be aware of it though I were in paradise. And here, this summer thou mayest die — ai, janeet die ! and in dying they might call to tend thee a white woman, and she would rob me in the last of thy love ! '
'But love is not born in a moment or on a death'bed I *
* What dost thou know of love, stoneheart ? She would take thy thanks at least and, by God and the Prophet and Beebee Miriam the mother of thy Prophet, that I will never endure. My lord and my love, let there be no more foolish talk of going away. Where thou art, I am. It is enough/ She put an arm round his neck and a hand on his mouth.
There are not many happinesses so complete as those that are snatched under the shadow of the sword. They sat together and laughed, calling each other openly by every pet name that could move the wrath of the gods. The city below them was locked up in its own torments. Sulphur fires blazed in the streets; the conches in the Hindu temples screamed and bellowed, for the gods were inattentive in those days. There was a service in the great Mahomedan shrine, and the call to prayer from the minarets was almost unceasing. They heard the wailing in the houses of the dead, and once the shriek of a mother who had lost a child
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and was calling for its return. In the gray dawn they saw the dead borne out through the city gates, each litter with its own little knot of mourners. Wherefore they kissed each other and shivered.
It was a red and heavy audit, for the land was very sick and needed a little breathing-space ere the torrent of cheap life should flood it anew. The children of immature fathers and undeveloped mothers made no resistance. They were cowed and sat still, waiting till the sword should be sheathed in November if it were so willed. There were gaps among the English, but the gaps were filled. The work of superintending famine-relief, cholera-sheds, medicine-distribution, and what little sanitation was possible, went forward because it was so ordered.
Holden had been told to keep himself in readi- ness to move to replace the next man who should fall. There were twelve hours in each day when he could not see Ameera, and she might die in three. He was considering what his pain would be if he could not see her for three months, or if she died out of his sight. He was absolutely certain that her death would be demanded — so certain, that when he looked up from the telegram and saw Pir Khan breathless in the doorway, he laughed aloud. * And ? ' said he,—
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'When there is a cry in the night and the spirit flutters into the throat, who has a charm that will restore ? Come swiftly, Heaven^born ! It is the black cholera/
Holden galloped to his home. The sky was heavy with clouds, for the long'deferred rains were near and the heat was stifling. Ameera's mother met him in the courtyard, whimpering, 'She is dying. She is nursing herself into death. She is all but dead. What shall I do, sahib ? '
Ameera was lying in the room in which Tota had been born. She made no sign when Holden entered, because the human soul is a very lonely thing and, when it is getting ready to go away, hides itself in a misty borderland where the living may not follow. The black cholera does its work quietly and without explanation. Ameera was being thrust out of life as though the Angel of Death had himself put his hand upon her. The quick breathing seemed to show that she was either afraid or in pain, but neither eyes nor mouth gave any answer to Holden's kisses. There was nothing to be said or done. Holden could only wait and suffer. The first drops of the rain began to fall on the roof and he could hear shouts of joy in the parched city.
The soul came back a little and the lips moved. Holden bent down to listen. 'Keep nothing of
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mine/ said Ameera. 'Take no hair from my head. She would make thee burn it later on. That flame I should feel. Lower I Stoop lower ! Remember only that I was thine and bore thee a son. Though thou wed a white woman tO'morrow, the pleasure of receiving in thy arms thy first son is taken from thee for ever. Remember me when thy son is born — the one that shall carry thy name before all men. His misfortunes be on my head. I bear witness — I bear witness ' — the lips were forming the words on his ear — 'that there is no God but — thee, beloved ! '
Then she died. Holden sat still, and all thought was taken from him, — till he heard Ameera's mother lift the curtain.
* Is she dead, sahib ? '
4 She is dead.'
'Then I will mourn, and afterwards take an inventory of the furniture in this house. For that will be mine. The sahib does not mean to resume it? It is so little, so very little, sahibt and I am an old woman. I would like to lie softly/
4 For the mercy of God be silent a while. Go out and mourn where I cannot hear/
4 Sahibt she will be buried in four hours/
'I know the custom. I shall go ere she is taken away. That matter is in thy hands. Look
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to it, that the bed on which — on which she lies—
'Aha! That beautiful red < lacquered bed. I have long desired
'That the bed is left here untouched for my disposal. All else in the house is thine. Hire a cart, take everything, go hence, and before sunrise let there be nothing in this house but that which I have ordered thee to respect.'
'I am an old woman. I would stay at least for the days of mourning, and the rains have just broken. Whither shall I go ? '
4 What is that to me ? My order is that there is a going. The house'gear is worth a thousand rupees and my orderly shall bring thee a hundred rupees to-night/
* That is very little. Think of the cart^hire.'
4 It shall be nothing unless thou goest, and with speed. O woman, get hence and leave me with my dead ! '
The mother shuffled down the staircase, and in her anxiety to take stock of the house - fittings forgot to mourn. Holden stayed by Ameera's side and the rain roared on the roof. He could not think connectedly by reason of the noise, though he made many attempts to do so. Then four sheeted ghosts glided dripping into the room and stared at him through their veils. They were
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the washers of the dead. Holden left the room and went out to his horse. He had come in a dead, stifling calm through ankle-deep dust. He found the courtyard a rain-lashed pond alive with frogs; a torrent of yellow water ran under the gate, and a roaring wind drove the bolts of the rain like buckshot against the mud-walls. Pir Khan was shivering in his little hut by the gate, and the horse was stamping uneasily in the water.
'I have been told the sahib's order/ said Pir Khan. * It is well. This house is now desolate. I go also, for my monkey-face would be a re- minder of that which has been. Concerning the bed, I will bring that to thy house yonder in the morning ; but remember, sahib, it will be to thee a knife turning in a green wound. I go upon a pil- grimage, and I will take no money. I have grown fat in the protection of the Presence whose sorrow is my sorrow. For the last time I hold his stirrup/
He touched Holden's foot with both hands and the horse sprang out into the road, where the creaking bamboos were whipping the sky and all the frogs were chuckling. Holden could not see for the rain in his face. He put his hands before his eyes and muttered —
4 Oh you brute I You utter brute ! '
The news of his trouble was already in his bungalow. He read the knowledge in his butler's
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eyes when Ahmed Khan brought in food, and for the first and last time in his life laid a hand upon his master's shoulder, saying, 'Eat, sahib, eat. Meat is good against sorrow. I also have known. Moreover the shadows come and go, sahib; the shadows come and go. These be curried eggs/
Holden could neither eat nor sleep. The heavens sent down eight inches of rain in that night and washed the earth clean. The waters tore down walls, broke roads, and scoured open the shallow graves on the Mahomedan burying' ground. All next day it rained, and Holden sat still in his house considering his sorrow. On the morning of the third day he received a telegram which said only, 'Ricketts, Myndonie. Dying. Holden relieve. Immediate/ Then he thought that before he departed he would look at the house wherein he had been master and lord. There was a break in the weather, and the rank earth steamed with vapour.
He found that the rains had torn down the mud pillars of the gateway, and the heavy wooden gate that had guarded his life hung lazily from one hinge. There was grass three inches high in the courtyard ; Pir Khan's lodge was empty, and the sodden thatch sagged between the beams. A gray squirrel was in possession of the veranda, as if the house had been untenanted for thirty years instead
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of three days. Ameera's mother had removed everything except some mildewed matting. The tick 'tick of the little scorpions as they hurried across the floor was the only sound in the house. Ameera's room and the other one where Tola had lived were heavy with mildew; and the narrow staircase leading to the roof was streaked and stained with rain - borne mud. Holden saw all these things, and came out again to meet in the road Durga Dass, his landlord, — portly, affable, clothed in white muslin, and driving a Cee'spring buggy. He was overlooking his property to see how the roofs stood the stress of the first rains.
4 1 have heard/ said he, * you will not take this place any more, sahib ? '
4 What are you going to do with it ? '
4 Perhaps I shall let it again/
* Then I will keep it on while I am away/
Durga Dass was silent for some time. 'You shall not take it on, sahib,' he said. 'When I
was a young man I also , but tO'day I am
a member of the Municipality. Ho! Ho! No. When the birds have gone what need to keep the nest ? I will have it pulled down — the timber will sell for something always. It shall be pulled down, and the Municipality shall make a road across, as they desire, from the burning'ghaut to the city wall, so that no man may say where this house stood/
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The sky is lead and our faces are red,
And the gates of Hell are opened and riven, And the winds of Hell are loosened and driven,
And the dust flies up in the face of Heaven, And the clouds come down in a fiery sheet,
Heavy to raise and hard to be borne.
And the soul of man is turned from his meat,
Turned from the trifles for which he has striven Sick in his body, and heavy hearted, And his soul flies up like the dust in the sheet, Breaks from his flesh and is gone and departed,
As the blasts they blow on the cholera-horn.
Himalayan.
FOUR men, each entitled to ' life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness/ sat at a table playing whist. The thermometer marked — for them — one hundred and one degrees of heat. The room was darkened till it was only just possible to distinguish the pips of the cards and the very white faces of the players. A tattered, rotten punkah of whitewashed calico was puddling
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the hot air and whining dolefully at each stroke. Outside lay gloom of a November day in London. There was neither sky, sun, nor horizon, — nothing but a brown purple haze of heat. It was as though the earth were dying of apoplexy.
From time to time clouds of tawny dust rose from the ground without wind or warning, flung themselves tableclotlvwise among the tops of the parched trees, and came down again. Then a whirling dust'devil would scutter across the plain for a couple of miles, break, and fall outward, though there was nothing to check its flight save a long low line of piled railway^sleepers white with the dust, a cluster of huts made of mud, condemned rails, and canvas, and the one squat four^roomed bungalow that belonged to the assistant engineer in charge of a section of the Gaudhari State line then under construction.
The four, stripped to the thinnest of sleeping.- suits, played whist crossly, with wranglings as to leads and returns. It was not the best kind of whist, but they had taken some trouble to arrive at it. Mottram of the Indian Survey had ridden thirty and railed one hundred miles from his lonely post in the desert since the night before ; Lowndes of the Civil Service, on special duty in the political department, had come as far to escape for an instant the miserable intrigues of an impoverished
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native State whose king alternately fawned and blustered for more money from the pitiful revenues contributed by hard-wrung peasants and despairing camel'breeders ; Spurstow, the doctor of the line, had left a cholera'Stricken camp of coolies to look after itself for forty .-eight hours while he associated with white men once more. Hummil, the assistant engineer, was the host. He stood fast and received his friends thus every Sunday if they could come in. When one of them failed to appear, he would send a telegram to his last address, in order that he might know whether the defaulter were dead or alive. There are very many places in the East where it is not good or kind to let your ac* quaintances drop out of sight even for one short week.
The players were not conscious of any special regard for each other. They squabbled whenever they met *f but they ardently desired to meet, as men without water desire to drink. They were lonely folk who understood the dread meaning of loneliness. They were all under thirty years of age, — which is too soon for any man to possess that knowledge.
'Pilsener?' said Spurstow, after the second rubber, mopping his forehead.
4 Beer's out, I'm sorry to say, and there's hardly enough soda-water for to-night,' said Hummil.
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* What filthy bad management 1 ' Spurstow snarled.
'Can't help it, I've written and wired; but the trains don't come through regularly yet. Last week the ice ran out, — as Lowndes knows.'
'Glad I didn't come. I could ha' sent you some if I had known, though. Phew I it's too hot to go on playing bumblepuppy.' This with a savage scowl at Lowndes, who only laughed. He was a hardened offender.
Mottram rose from the table and looked out of a chink in the shutters.
4 What a sweet day ! ' said he.
The company yawned all together and betook themselves to an aimless investigation of all Hummil's possessions, — guns, tattered novels, saddlery, spurs, and the like. They had fingered them a score of times before, but there was really nothing else to do.
4 Got anything fresh ? ' said Lowndes.
'Last week's Gazette of India, and a cutting from a home paper. My father sent it out It's rather amusing.'
'One of those vestrymen that call 'emselves M.P.'s again, is it ? ' said Spurstow, who read his newspapers when he could get them.
'Yes. Listen to this. It's to your address, Lowndes. The man was making a speech to his
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constituents, and he piled it on. Here's a sample, 44 And I assert unhesitatingly that the Civil Service in India is the preserve — the pet preserve — of the aristocracy of England. What does the democracy —what do the masses — get from that country, which we have step by step fraudulently annexed ? I answer, nothing whatever. It is farmed with a single eye to their own interests by the scions of the aristocracy. They take good care to maintain their lavish scale of incomes, to avoid or stifle any inquiries into the nature and conduct of their administration, while they themselves force the unhappy peasant to pay with the sweat of his brow for all the luxuries in which they are lapped/" Hummil waved the cutting above his head. 4 'Ear ! 'ear ! ' said his audience.
Then Lowndes, meditatively, 'I'd give — I'd give three months' pay to have that gentleman spend one month with me and see how the free and independent native prince works things. Old Timbersides' — this was his flippant title for an honoured and decorated feudatory prince — 'has been wearing my life out this week past for money. By Jove, his latest performance was to send me one of his women as a bribe ! '
4 Good for you ! Did you accept it ? ' said Mottram.
'No. I rather wish I had, now. She was a
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pretty little person, and she yarned away to me about the horrible destitution among the king's womenfolk. The darlings haven't had any new clothes for nearly a month, and the old man wants to buy a new drag from Calcutta, — solid silver railings and silver lamps, and trifles of that kind. I've tried [to make him understand that he has played the deuce with the revenues for the last twenty years and must go slow. He can't see it/
'But he has the ancestral treasure * vaults to draw on. There must be three millions at least in jewels and coin under his palace,' said Hummil.
* Catch a native king disturbing the family treasure ! The priests forbid it except as the last resort. Old Timbersides has added something like a quarter of a million to the deposit in his reign/
4 Where the mischief does it all come from?' said Mottram.
'The country. The state of the people is enough to make you sick. I've known the tax- men wait by a milch'camel till the foal was born and then hurry off the mother for arrears. And what can I do? I can't get the court clerks to give me any accounts ; I can't raise anything more than a fat smile from the commander * in * chief when I find out the troops are three months in arrears ; and old Timbersides begins to weep when I speak to him. He has taken to the King's Peg
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heavily , — liqueur brandy for whisky, and Heidsieck for soda-water/
4 That's what the Rao of Jubela took to. Even a native can't last long at that/ said Spurstow. 'He'll go out/
* And a good thing, too. Then I suppose we'll have a council of regency, and a tutor for the young prince, and hand him back his kingdom with ten years' accumulations/
4 Whereupon that young prince, having been taught all the vices of the English, will play ducks and drakes with the money and undo ten years' work in eighteen months. I've seen that business before/ said Spurstow. 4 1 should tackle the king with a light hand if I were you, Lowndes. They'll hate you quite enough under any circumstances/
4 That's all very well. The man who looks on can talk about the light hand ; but you can't clean a pig * stye with a pen dipped in rose-water. I know my risks ; but nothing has happened yet. My servant's an old Pathan, and he cooks for me. They are hardly likely to bribe him, and I don't accept food from my true friends, as they call themselves. Oh, but it's weary work ! I'd sooner be with you, Spurstow. There's shooting near your camp/
' Would you ? I don't think it. About fifteen deaths a day don't incite a man to shoot anything
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but himself. And the worst of it is that the poor devils look at you as though you ought to save them. Lord knows, IVe tried everything. My last attempt was empirical, but it pulled an old man through. He was brought to me apparently past hope, and I gave him gin and Worcester sauce with cayenne. It cured him ; but I don't recon> mend it.'
4 How do the cases run generally ?'said Hummil.
4 Very simply indeed. Chlorodyne, opium pill, chlorodyne, collapse, nitre, bricks to the feet, and then — the burning'ghaut. The last seems to be the only thing that stops the trouble. It's black cholera, you know. Poor devils! But, I will say, little Bunsee Lai, my apothecary, works like a demon. I've recommended him for promotion if he comes through it all alive/
' And what are your chances, old man ? ' said Mottram.
* Don't know; don't care much; but I've sent the letter in. What are you doing with yourself generally ? '
4 Sitting under a table in the tent and spitting on the sextant to keep it cool,' said the man of the survey. 4 Washing my eyes to avoid ophthalmia, which I shall certainly get, and trying to make a sub'Surveyor understand that an error of five degrees in an angle isn't quite so small as it looks.
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I'm altogether alone, y' know, and shall be till the end of the hot weather/
4 Hummil's the lucky man/ said Lowndes, fling- ing himself into a long chair. 4 He has an actual roof — torn as to the ceiling-cloth, but still a roof — over his head. He sees one train daily. He can get beer and soda-water and ice 'em when God is good. He has books, pictures/ — they were torn from the Graphic, — 'and the society of the excellent sub-contractor Jevins, besides the pleasure of receiving us weekly/
Hummil smiled grimly. 'Yes, I'm the lucky man, I suppose. Jevins is luckier/
'How? Not-
* Yes. Went out. Last Monday/
'By his own hand?' said Spurstow quickly, hinting the suspicion that was in everybody's mind. There was no cholera near Hummil's section. Even fever gives a man at least a week's grace, and sudden death generally implied self- slaughter.
' I judge no man this weather/ said Hummil. 'He had a touch of the sun, I fancy; for last week, after you fellows had left, he came into the veranda and told me that he was going home to see his wife, in Market Street, Liverpool, that evening.
' I got the apothecary in to look at him, and we tried to make him lie down. After an hour or
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two he rubbed his eyes and said he believed he had had a fit, — hoped he hadn't said anything rude. Jevins had a great idea of bettering himself socially. He was very like Chucks in his language/ 'Well?'
* Then he went to his own bungalow and began cleaning a rifle. He told the servant that he was going to shoot buck in the morning. Naturally he fumbled with the trigger, and shot himself through the head — accidentally. The apothecary sent in a report to my chief, and Jevins is buried somewhere out there. I'd have wired to you, Spurstow, if you could have done anything/
'You're a queer chap/ said Mottram. Mf you'd killed the man yourself you couldn't have been more quiet about the business/
4 Good Lord ! what does it matter ? ' said Hummil calmly. 4 I've got to do a lot of his over- seeing work in addition to my own. I'm the only person that suffers. Jevins is out of it, — by pure accident, of course, but out of it. The apothecary was going to write a long screed on suicide. Trust a babu to drivel when he gets the chance/
* Why didn't you let it go in as suicide ? ' said Lowndes.
4 No direct proof. A man hasn't many privileges in this country, but he might at least be allowed to mishandle his own rifle. Besides, some day I may
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need a man to smother up an accident to myself. Live and let live. Die and let die/
4 You take a pill/ said Spurstow, who had been watching Hummil's white face narrowly. 4 Take a pill, and don't be an ass. That sort of talk is skittles. Anyhow, suicide is shirking your work. If I were Job ten times over, I should be so interested in what was going to happen next that Pd stay on and watch/
4 Ah I I've lost that curiosity/ said Hummil.
4 Liver out of order ? * said Lowndes feelingly.
4 No. Can't sleep. That's worse/
'By Jove, it is!' said Mottram. 'I'm that way every now and then, and the fit has to wear itself out. What do you take for it ? '
' Nothing. What's the use ? I haven't had ten minutes' sleep since Friday morning/
' Poor chap I Spurstow, you ought to attend to this/ said Mottram. ' Now you mention it, your eyes are rather gummy and swollen/
Spurstow, still watching Hummil, laughed lightly. 'I'll patch him up, later on. Is it too hot, do you think, to go for a ride ? '
' Where to ? ' said Lowndes wearily. ' We shall have to go away at eight, and there'll be riding enough for us then. I hate a horse when I have to use him as a necessity. Oh, heavens I what is there to do ? '
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' Begin whist again, at chick points [' a chick ' is supposed to be eight shillings] and a gold mohur on the rub/ said Spurstow promptly.
* Poker. A month's pay all round for the pool, — no limit, — and fifty ^rupee raises. Somebody would be broken before we got up/ said Lowndes.
' Can't say that it would give me any pleasure to break any man in this company/ said Mottram. 'There isn't enough excitement in it, and it's foolish.' He crossed over to the worn and battered little camp*piano, — wreckage of a married household that had once held the bungalow, — and opened the case.
'It's used up long ago/ said Hummil. 'The servants have picked it to pieces.'
The piano was indeed hopelessly out of order, but Mottram managed to bring the rebellious notes into a sort of agreement, and there rose from the ragged keyboard something that might once have been the ghost of a popular music-hall song. The men in the long chairs turned with evident interest us Mottram banged the more lustily.
' That's good 1 ' said Lowndes. * By Jove ! the last time I heard that song was in '79, or there' abouts, just before I came out.'
* Ah ! ' said Spurstow with pride, * I was home in '80.' And he mentioned a song of the streets popular at that date.
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Mottram executed it roughly. Lowndes criti' cised and volunteered emendations. Mottram dashed into another ditty, not of the music-hall character, and made as if to rise.
'Sit down/ said Hummil. 'I didn't know that you had any music in your composition. Go on playing until you can't think of anything more. I'll have that piano tuned up before you come again. Play something festive.'
Very simple indeed were the tunes to which Mottram's art and the limitations of the piano could give effect, but the men listened with pleasure, and in the pauses talked all together of what they had seen or heard when they were last at home. A dense dust-storm sprung up outside, and swept roaring over the house, enveloping it in the choking darkness of midnight, but Mottram continued unheeding, and the crazy tinkle reached the ears of the listeners above the flapping of the tattered ceiling-cloth.
In the silence after the storm he glided from the more directly personal songs of Scotland, half humming them as he played, into the Evening Hymn.
* Sunday,' said he, nodding his head.
4 Go on. Don't apologise for it,' said Spurstow.
Hummil laughed long and riotously. ' Play it, by all means. You're full of surprises to-day. I
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didn't know you had such a gift of finished sar^ casm. How does that thing go ? '
Mottram took up the tune.
4 Too slow by half. You miss the note of gratitude/ said Hummil. 'It ought to go to the 44 Grasshopper's Polka," — this way/ And he chanted, prestissimo, —
' Glory to thee, my God, this night, For all the blessings of the light.
That shows we really feel our blessings. How does it go on ? —
If in the night I sleepless lie,
My soul with sacred thoughts supply;
May no ill dreams disturb my rest, —
Quicker, Mottram I —
Or powers of darkness me molest I '
4 Bah what an old hypocrite you are 1 ' 4 Don't be an ass/ said Lowndes. * You are at full liberty to make fun of anything else you like, but leave that hymn alone. It's associated in my mind with the most sacred recollections —
4 Summer evenings in the country, — stained' glass window, — light going out, and you and she jamming your heads together over one hymn* book/ said Mottram.
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'Yes, and a fat old cockchafer hitting you in the eye when you walked home. Smell of hay, and a moon as big as a bandbox sitting on the top of a haycock; bats, — roses, — milk and midges/ said Lowndes.
* Also mothers. I can just recollect my mother singing me to sleep with that when I was a little chap/ said Spurstow.
The darkness had fallen on the room. They could hear Hummil squirming in his chair.
* Consequently/ said he testily, 'you sing it when you are seven fathom deep in Helll It's an insult to the intelligence of the Deity to pretend we're anything but tortured rebels/
'Take two pills/ said Spurstow; 'that's tor* tured liver/
'The usually placid Hummil is in a vile bad temper. I'm sorry for his coolies to-morrow/ said Lowndes, as the servants brought in the lights and prepared the table for dinner.
As they were settling into their places about the miserable goat'chops, and the smoked tapioca pudding, Spurstow took occasion to whisper to Mottram, ' Well done, David ! '
' Look after Saul, then/ was the reply.
'What are you two whispering about?' said Hummil suspiciously.
' Only saying that you are a damned poor host.
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This fowl can't be cut/ returned Spurstow with a sweet smile. * Call this a dinner ? '
4 1 can't help it. You don't expect a banquet, do you ? '
Throughout that meal Hummil contrived laboriously to insult directly and pointedly all his guests in succession, and at each insult Spurstow kicked the aggrieved persons under the table ; but he dared not exchange a glance of intelligence with either of them. Hummil's face was white and pinched, while his eyes were unnaturally large. No man dreamed for a moment of resenting his savage personalities, but as soon as the meal was over they made haste to get away.
4 Don't go. You're just getting amusing, you fellows. I hope I haven't said anything that annoyed you. You're such touchy devils/ Then, changing the note into one of almost abject en* treaty, Hummil added, M say, you surely aren't going ? '
' In the language of the blessed Jorrocks, where I dines I sleeps/ said Spurstow. ' I want to have a look at your coolies to-morrow, if you don't mind. You can give me a place to lie down in, I suppose ? '
The others pleaded the urgency of their several duties next day, and, saddling up, departed to- gether, Hummil begging them to come next
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Sunday, As they jogged off, Lowndes unbosomed himself to Mottram —
4 . . . And I never felt so like kicking a man at his own table . in my life. He said I cheated at whist, and reminded me I was in debt! Told you you were as good as a liar to your face ! You aren't half indignant enough over it/
'Not I/ said Mottram. 'Poor devil! Did you ever know old Hummy behave like that before or within a hundred miles of it ? *
* That's no excuse. Spurstow was hacking my shin all the time, so I kept a hand on myself. Else I should have '
'No, you wouldn't. You'd have done as Hummy did about Jevins; judge no man this weather. By Jove! the buckle of my bridle is hot in my hand ! Trot out a bit, and 'ware rat' holes.'
Ten minutes' trotting jerked out of Lowndes one very sage remark when he pulled up, sweating from every pore —
* 'Good thing Spurstow's with him to-night.' 'Ye'es. Good man, Spurstow. Our roads
turn here. See you again next Sunday, if the sun doesn't bowl me over.'
'S'pose so, unless old Timbersides' finance minister manages to dress some of my food. Goodnight, and — God bless you I '
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4 What's wrong now ? '
4 Oh, nothing/ Lowndes gathered up his whip, and, as he flicked Mottram's mare on the flank, added, 4 You're not a bad little chap, — that's all.' And the mare bolted half a mile across the sand, on the word.
In the assistant engineer's bungalow Spurstow and Hummil smoked the pipe of silence together, each narrowly watching the other. The capacity of a bachelor's establishment is as elastic as its arrangements are simple. A servant cleared away the dining-room table, brought in a couple of rude native bedsteads made of tape strung on a light wood frame, flung a square of cool Calcutta matting over each, set them side by side, pinned two towels to the punkah so that their fringes should just sweep clear of the sleeper's nose and mouth, and announced that the couches were ready.
The men flung themselves down, ordering the punkah-coolies by all the powers of Hell to pull. Every door and window was shut, for the outside air was that of an oven. The atmosphere within was only 104°, as the thermometer bore witness, and heavy with the foul smell of badly-trimmed kerosene lamps; and this stench, combined with that of native tobacco, baked brick, and dried earth, sends the heart of many a strong man down to his boots, for it is the smell of the Great Indian
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Empire when she turns herself for six months into a house of torment. Spurstow packed his pillows craftily so that he reclined rather than lay, his head at a safe elevation above his feet. It is not good to sleep on a low pillow in the hot weather if you happen to be of thick-necked build, for you may pass with lively snores and gugglings from natural sleep into the deep slumber of heat-apoplexy.
4 Pack your pillows/ said the doctor sharply, as he saw Hummil preparing to lie down at full length.
The night-light was trimmed; the shadow of the punkah wavered across the room, and the 4 flick ' of the punkah-towel and the soft whine of the rope through the wall-hole followed it. Then the punkah flagged, almost ceased. The sweat poured from Spurstow's brow. Should he go out and harangue the coolie? It started forward again with a savage jerk, and a pin came out of the towels. When this was replaced, a tomtom in the coolie-lines began to beat with the steady throb of a swollen artery inside some brain-fevered skull. Spurstow turned on his side and swore gently. There was no movement on HummiFs part. The man had composed himself as rigidly as a corpse, his hands clinched at his sides. The respiration was too hurried for any suspicion of sleep. Spurstow looked at the set face. The jaws were
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clinched, and there was a pucker round the quiver^ ing eyelids.
4 He's holding himself as tightly as ever he can/ thought Spurstow. 'What in the world is the matter with him ? — Hummil I '
4 Yes/ in a thick constrained voice.
4 Can't you get to sleep ?'
'No/
' Head hot ? 'Throat f eeling bulgy ? or how ? '
'Neither, thanks. I don't sleep much, you know/
4 'Feel pretty bad ? '
'Pretty bad, thanks. There is a tomtom out* side, isn't there? I thought it was my head at first. . . . Oh, Spurstow, for pity's sake give me something that will put me asleep, — sound asleep, — if it's only for six hours !' He sprang up, trembling from head to foot. 'I haven't been able to sleep naturally for days, and I can't stand it !— I can't stand it 1 '
' Poor old chap !'
'That's no use. Give me something to make me sleep. I tell you I'm nearly mad. I don't know what I say half my time. For three weeks I've had to think and spell out every word that has come through my lips before I dared say it. Isn't that enough to drive a man mad ? I can't see things correctly now, and I've lost my sense of
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touch. My skin aches — my skin aches ! Make me sleep. Oh, Spurstow, for the love of God make me sleep sound. It isn't enough merely to let me dream. Let me sleep ! '
'All right, old man, all right. Go slowj you aren't half as bad as you think.'
The flood-gates of reserve once broken, Hummil was clinging to him like a frightened child. * You're pinching my arm to pieces.'
4 I'll break your neck if you don't do something for me. No, I didn't mean that. Don't be angry, old fellow.' He wiped the sweat off himself as he fought to regain composure. 4 I'm a bit restless and off my oats, and perhaps you could recommend some sort of sleeping mixture, — bromide of potassium/
' Bromide of skittles ! Why didn't you tell me this before? Let go of my arm, and I'll see if there's anything in my cigarette-case to suit your complaint.' Spurstow hunted among his day* clothes, turned up the lamp, opened a little silver cigarette-case, and advanced on the expectant Hummil with the daintiest of fairy squirts.
4 The last appeal of civilisation/ said he, 4 and a thing I hate to use. Hold out your arm. Well, your sleeplessness hasn't ruined your muscle ; and what a thick hide it is! Might as well inject a buffalo subcutaneously. Now in a few minutes
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AT THE END OF THE PASSAGE
the morphia will begin working. Lie down and wait/
A smile of unalloyed and idiotic delight began to creep over Hummirs face. 'I think/ he whispered, — * I think I'm going off now. Gad ! it's positively heavenly ! Spurstow, you must give
me that case to keep ; you ' The voice ceased
as the head fell back.
4 Not for a good deal/ said Spurstow to the un- conscious form. l And now, my friend, sleepless* ness of your kind being very apt to relax the moral fibre in little matters of life and death, I'll just take the liberty of spiking your guns/
He paddled into Hummil's saddle-room in his bare feet and uncased a twelve-bore rifle, an express, and a revolver. Of the first he unscrewed the nipples and hid them in the bottom of a saddlery- case ; of the second he abstracted the lever, kicking it behind a big wardrobe. The third he merely opened, and knocked the doll-head bolt of the grip up with the heel of a riding-boot.
' That's settled/ he said, as he shook the sweat off his hands. 'These little precautions will at least give you time to turn. You have too much sympathy with gun-room accidents/
And as he rose from his knees, the thick muffled voice of Hummil cried in the doorway, * You fool ! '
Such tones they use who speak in the lucid
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intervals of delirium to their friends a little before they die.
Spurstow started, dropping the pistol. Hummil stood in the doorway, rocking with helpless laughter.
4 That was awf 'ly good of you, I'm sure/ he said, very slowly, feeling for his words. ' I don't intend to go out by my own hand at present. I say, Spurstow, that stuff won't work. What shall I do ? What shall I do ? ' And panic terror stood in his eyes.
4 Lie down and give it a chance. Lie down at once/
4 1 daren't. It will only take me half - way again, and I shan't be able to get away this time. Do you know it was all I could do to come out just now ? Generally I am as quick as lightning ; but you had clogged my feet. I was nearly caught/
4 Oh yes, I understand. Go and lie down/
4 No, it isn't delirium ; but it was an awfully mean trick to play on me. Do you know I might have died ? '
As a sponge rubs a slate clean, so some power unknown to Spurstow had wiped out of Hummil's face all that stamped it for the face of a man, and he stood at the doorway in the expression of his lost innocence. He had slept back into terrified childhood.
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'Is he going to die on the spot?' thought Spurstow. Then, aloud, 'All right, my son. Come back to bed, and tell me all about it. You couldn't sleep ; but what was all the rest of the nonsense ? '
4 A place,— a place down there/ said Hummil, with simple sincerity. The drug was acting on him by waves, and he was flung from the fear of a strong man to the fright of a child as his nerves gathered sense or were dulled.
4 Good God ! I've been afraid of it for months past, Spurstow. It has made every night hell to me; and yet Pm not conscious of having done anything wrong/
' Be still, and I'll give you another dose. We'll stop your nightmares, you unutterable idiot ! '
'Yes, but you must give me so much that I can't get away. You must make me quite sleepy, —not just a little sleepy. It's so hard to run then/
' I know it j I know it. I've felt it myself. The symptoms are exactly as you describe/
4 Oh, don't laugh at me, confound you ! Before this awful sleeplessness came to me I've tried to rest on my elbow and put a spur in the bed to sting me when I fell back. Look ! '
'By Jove! the man has been rowelled like a horse! Ridden by the nightmare with a
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
vengeance! And we all thought him sensible enough. Heaven send us understanding! You like to talk, don't you ? '
'Yes, sometimes. Not when Pm frightened. Then I want to run. Don't you ? '
* Always. Before I give you your second dose try to tell me exactly what your trouble is/
Hummil spoke in broken whispers for nearly ten minutes, whilst Spurstow looked into the pupils of his eyes and passed his hand before them once or twice.
At the end of the narrative the silver cigarette* case was produced, and the last words that Hummil said as he fell back for the second time were, 4 Put me quite to sleep; for if I'm caught I die, — I die!'
'Yes, yes; we all do that sooner or later, — thank Heaven who has set a term to our miseries/ said Spurstow, settling the cushions under the head, 4 It occurs to me that unless I drink something I shall go out before my time. I've stopped sweat' ing, and — I wear a seventeen^inch collar/ He brewed himself scalding hot tea, which is an excellent remedy against heat-apoplexy if you take three or four cups of it in time. Then he watched the sleeper.
4 A blind face that cries and can't wipe its eyes, a blind face that chases him down corridors!
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H'm I Decidedly, Hummil ought to go on leave as soon as possible ; and, sane or otherwise, he tin* doubtedly did rowel himself most cruelly. Well, Heaven send us understanding I '
At mid-day Hummil rose, with an evil taste in his mouth, but an unclouded eye and a joyful heart.
4 1 was pretty bad last night, wasn't 1 1 ' said he.
* I have seen healthier men. You must have had a touch of the sun. Look here: if I write you a swingeing medical certificate, will you apply for leave on the spot ? f
' Why not ? You want it/
4 Yes, but I can hold on till the weather's a little cooler/
' Why should you, if you can get relieved on the spot ? '
* Burkett is the only man who could be sent ; and he's a born fool/
'Oh, never mind about the line. You aren't so important as all that. Wire for leave, if necessary/
Hummil looked very uncomfortable.
4 1 can hold on till the Rains/ he said evasively.
'You can't. Wire to headquarters for Bur* kett/
4 1 wont If you want to know why, partial larly, Burkett is married, and his wife's just had a
L.H. Vol. I 241 R
LIFE'S HANDICAP
kid, and she's up at Simla, in the cool, and Burkett has a very nice billet that takes him into Simla from Saturday to Monday, That little woman isn't at all well. If Burkett was transferred ^he'd try to follow him. If she left the baby behind she'd fret herself to death. If she came, — and Burkett's one of those selfish little beasts who are always talking about a wife's place being with her husband, — she'd die. It's murder to bring a woman here just now. Burkett hasn't the physique of a rat. If he came here he'd go out; and I know she hasn't any money, and I'm pretty sure she'd go out too. I'm salted in a sort of way, and I'm not married. Wait till the Rains, and then Burkett can get thin down here. It'll do him heaps of good.'
4 Do you mean to say that you intend to face — what you have faced, till the Rains break ? '
4 Oh, it won't be so bad, now you've shown me a way out of it. I can always wire to you. Besides, now I've once got into the way of sleeping, it'll be all right. Anyhow, I shan't put in for leave. That's the long and the short of it.'
'My great Scott! I thought all that sort of thing was dead and done with.'
4 Bosh I You'd do the same yourself. I feel a new man, thanks to that cigarette'Case. You're going over to camp now, aren't you ? '
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4 Yes; but I'll try to look you up every other day, if I can/
'I'm not bad enough for that. I don't want you to bother. Give the coolies gin and ketchup/
4 Then you feel all right ? '
'Fit to fight for my life, but not to stand out in the sun talking to you. Go along, old man, and bless you I '
Hummil turned on his heel to face the echoing desolation of his bungalow, and the first thing he saw standing in the veranda was the figure of himself. He had met a similar apparition once before, when he was suffering from overwork and the strain of the hot weather.
'This is bad, — already/ he said, rubbing his eyes. * If the thing slides away from me all in one piece, like a ghost, I shall know it is only my eyes and stomach that are out of order. If it walks — my head is going/
He approached the figure, which naturally kept at an unvarying distance from him, as is the use of all spectres that are born of overwork. It slid through the house and dissolved into swimming specks within the eyeball as soon as it reached the burning light of the garden. Hummil went about his business till even. When he came in to dinner he found himself sitting at the table. The vision
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
rose and walked out hastily. Except that it cast no shadow it was in all respects real.
No living man knows what that week held for Hummil. An increase of the epidemic kept Spurstow in camp among the coolies, and all he could do was to telegraph to Mottram, bidding him go to the bungalow and sleep there. But Mottram was forty miles away from the nearest telegraph, and knew nothing of anything save the needs of the survey till he met, early on Sunday morning, Lowndes and Spurstow heading towards Hummil's for the weekly gathering.
4 Hope the poor chap's in a better temper/ said the former, swinging himself off his horse at the door. * I suppose he isn't up yet/
Til just have a look at him/ said the doctor. 4 If he's asleep there's no need to wake him/
And an instant later, by the tone of Spurstow's voice calling upon them to enter, the men knew what had happened. There was no need to wake him.
The punkah was still being pulled over the bed, but Hummil had departed this life at least three hours.
The body lay on its back, hands clinched by the side, as Spurstow had seen it lying seven nights previously. In the staring eyes was written terror beyond the expression of any pen.
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Mottram, who had entered behind Lowndes, bent over the dead and touched the forehead lightly with his lips, 'Oh, you lucky, lucky devil ! ' he whispered.
But Lowndes had seen the eyes, and withdrew shuddering to the other side of the room.
'Poor chap! poor old chap! And the last time I met him I was angry. Spurstow, we should have watched him. Has he ? '
Deftly Spurstow continued his investigations, ending by a search round the room.
'No, he hasn't/ he snapped. 'There's no trace of anything. Call the servants/
They came, eight or ten of them, whispering and peering over each other's shoulders.
'When did your Sahib go to bed?' said Spurstow.
'At eleven or ten, we think/ said Hummil's personal servant.
'He was well then? But how should you know?'
'He was not ill, as far as our comprehension extended. But he had slept very little for three nights. This I know, because I saw him walk* ing much, and specially in the heart of the night/
As Spurstow was arranging the sheet, a big straight - necked hunting * spur tumbled on the
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LIFE'S HANDICAP
ground. The doctor groaned. The personal servant peeped at the body.
4 What do you think, Chuma ? ' said Spurstow, catching the look on the dark face.
4 Heaven - born, in my poor opinion, this that was my master has descended into the Dark Places, and there has been caught because he was not able to escape with sufficient speed. We have the spur for evidence that he fought with Fear. Thus have I seen men of my race do with thorns when a spell was laid upon them to overtake them in their sleeping hours and they dared not sleep/
4 Chuma, you're a mud - head. Go out and prepare seals to be set on the Sahib's property.'
'God has made the Heaven-born. God has made me. Who are we, to inquire into the dis* pensations of God ? I will bid the other servants hold aloof while you are reckoning the tale of the Sahib's property. They are all thieves, and would steal.'
4 As far as I can make out, he died from — oh, anything; stoppage of the heart's action, heat' apoplexy, or some other visitation,' said Spurstow to his companions. ' We must make an inventory of his effects, and so on.'
'He was scared to death,' insisted Lowndes. 4 Look at those eyes ! For pity's sake don't let him be buried with them open ! '
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AT THE END OF THE PASSAGE
* Whatever it was, he's clear of all the trouble now/ said Mottram softly.
Spurstow was peering into the open eyes.
4 Come here/ said he. ' Can you see anything there ? '
' I can't face it 1 ' whimpered Lowndes. * Cover up the face I Is there any fear on earth that can turn a man into that likeness ? It's ghastly. Oh, Spurstow, cover it up 1 '
4 No fear — on earth/ said Spurstow. Mottram leaned over his shoulder and looked intently.
'I see nothing except some gray blurs in the pupil. There can be nothing there, you know/
'Even so. Well, let's think. It'll take half a day to knock up any sort of coffin ; and he must have died at midnight. Lowndes, old man, go out and tell the coolies to break ground next to Jevins's grave. Mottram, go round the house with Chuma and see that the seals are put on things. Send a couple of men to me here, and I'll arrange/
The strong-armed servants when they returned to their own kind told a strange story of the doctor Sahib vainly trying to call their master back to life by magic arts, — to wit, the holding of a little green box that clicked to each of the dead man's eyes, and of a bewildered muttering on the part of the
247
LIFE'S HANDICAP
doctor Sahib, who took the little green box away with him.
The resonant hammering of a coffined is no pleasant thing to hear, but those who have expert ence maintain that much more terrible is the soft swish of the bed'linen, the reeving and unreeving of the bed-tapes, when he who has fallen by the roadside is apparelled for burial, sinking gradually as the tapes are tied over, till the swaddled shape touches the floor and there is no protest against the indignity of hasty disposal.
At the last moment Lowndes was seized with scruples of conscience. * Ought you to read the service, — from beginning to end?' said he to Spurstow.
'I intend to. You're my senior as a civilian. You can take it if you like.'
'I didn't mean that for a moment. I only thought if we could get a chaplain from some- where,— I'm willing to ride anywhere, — and give poor Hummil a better chance. That's all.'
4 Bosh ! ' said Spurstow, as he framed his lips to the tremendous words that stand at the head of the burial service.
After breakfast they smoked a pipe in silence to the memory of the dead. Then Spurstow said absently —
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AT THE END OF THE PASSAGE
* Tisn't in medical science/ 'What?'
' Things in a dead man's eye/
'For goodness' sake leave that horror alone!' said Lowndes. * I've seen a native die of pure fright when a tiger chivied him. I know what killed Hummil/
4 The deuce you do I I'm going to try to see/ And the doctor retreated into the bath-room with a Kodak camera. After a few minutes there was the sound of something being hammered to pieces, and he emerged, very white indeed.
4 Have you got a picture ? ' said Mottram. 4 What does the thing look like ? '
'It was impossible, of course. You needn't look, Mottram. I've torn up the films. There was nothing there. It was impossible/
4 That/ said Lowndes, very distinctly, watching the shaking hand striving to relight the pipe, 4 is a damned lie/
Mottram laughed uneasily. 4 Spurstow's right/ he said. ' We're all in such a state now that we'd believe anything. For pity's sake let's try to be rational/
There was no further speech for a long time. The hot wind whistled without, and the dry trees sobbed. Presently the daily train, winking brass, burnished steel, and spouting steam, pulled up
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panting in the intense glare. * We'd better go on on that/ said Spurstow. ' Go back to work. I've written my certificate. We can't do any more good here, and work'll keep our wits together. Come on.'
No one moved. It is not pleasant to face railway journeys at mid'day in June. Spurstow gathered up his hat and whip, and, turning in the doorway, said —
' There may be Heaven, — there must be Hell. Meantime, there is our life here. We*ell ? '
Neither Mottram nor Lowndes had any answer to the question.
END OF VOL. I
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