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 MINE OWN PEOPLE 
 
 BY 
 
 RUDYARD KIPLING 
 
 WITH A CRITICAL INTRODUCTION 
 B V NENR V JAMES 
 
 New York 
 
 MANHATTAN PRESS 
 
 474 West Broadway
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAOS 
 
 iHTioDOcnoir • • 3 
 
 BiMt ... 21 
 
 Namgay Doola 31 
 
 Thb Recrxjdescence of Imray 50 
 
 MoTi Guj— Mutineer 70 
 
 The Mutiny op the Mavericks 8a 
 
 At the End of the Passage . , . . ,115 
 Thb Incarnation of Krishna Mulvaney . 15c 
 
 The Max Who Was . ....... 191 
 
 On Gbjeekhow Hill . 221 
 
 2230739
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 It would be difficult to answer the gen- 
 eral question whether the books of the 
 world grow, as they multiply, as much bet- 
 ter as one might suppose they ought, with 
 such a lesson of wasteful experiment spread 
 perpetually behind them. There is no 
 doubt, however, that in one direction we 
 profit largely by this education: whether 
 or not we have become wiser to fashion, 
 we have certainly become keener to enjoy. 
 We have acquired the sense of a particular 
 quality which is precious beyond all 
 others — so precious as to make us wonder 
 where, at such a rate, our posterity will 
 look for it, and how they will pay for it. 
 After tasting many essences we find fresh- 
 ness the sweetest of all. We yearn for it, 
 we watch for it and lie in wait for it, and 
 when we catch it on the wing (it flits by so 
 fast) we celebrate our capture with extrav- 
 agance. We feel that after so much has 
 come and gone it is more and more of a 
 feat and a tour de force to be fresh. The
 
 4 Introduction 
 
 tormenting part of the phenomenon is that, 
 in any particular key, it can happen but 
 once — by a sad failure of the law that 
 inculcates the repetition of goodness. It is 
 terribly a matter of accident; emulation and 
 imitation have a fatal effect upon it. It 
 is easy to see, therefore, what importance 
 the epicure may attach to the brief moment 
 of its bloom. While that lasts w^e all are 
 epicures. 
 
 This helps to explain, I think, the unmis- 
 takable intensity of the general relish for 
 Mr. Rudyard Kipling. His bloom lasts, 
 from month to month, almost surpris- 
 ingly — by which I mean that he has not 
 worn out even by active exercise the par- 
 ticular property that made us all so pre- 
 cipitately drop everything else to attend to 
 him. He has many others which he w411 
 doubtless always keep; but a part of the 
 potency attaching to his freshness, what 
 makes it as exciting as a drawing of lots, 
 is our instinctive conviction that he can not, 
 in the nature of things, keep that; so that 
 our enjoyment of him, so long as the mir- 
 acle is still wrought, has both the charm 
 of confidence and the charm of suspense. 
 A.nd then there is the further charm, with 
 ]\Ir. Kipling, that this same freshness is 
 such a very strange affair of its kind — so 
 mixed and various and cynical, and, in cer- 
 tain lights, so contradictory of itself. The
 
 Introduction 5 
 
 extreme recentness of his inspiration is as 
 enviable as the tale is startling that his pro- 
 ductions tell of his being at home, domesti- 
 cated and initiated, in this wicked and 
 weary world. At times he strikes us as 
 shockingly precocious, at others as serenely 
 wise. On the whole, he presents himself 
 as a strangely clever youth who has stolen 
 the formidable mask of maturity and rushes 
 about, making people j amp with the deep 
 sounds, the sportive exaggerations of tone, 
 that issue from its painted lips. He has 
 this mark of a real vocation, that dififerent 
 spectators may like him — must like him, 
 I should almost say — for different things; 
 and this refinement of attraction, that to 
 those who reflect even upon their pleasures 
 he has as much to say as to those who 
 never reflect upon anything. Indeed there 
 is a certain amount of room for surprise in 
 the fact that, being so much the sort of 
 figure that the hardened critic likes to meet, 
 he should also be the sort of figure that 
 inspires the multitude with confidence — 
 for a complicated air is, in general, the last 
 thing that does this. 
 
 By the critic who likes to meet such a 
 bristling adventurer as Mr. Kipling I mean 
 of course the critic for whom the happy 
 accident of character, whatever form it may 
 take, is more of a bribe to interest than the 
 promise of some character cherished in
 
 6 Introduction 
 
 theory — the appearance of justifying some 
 foregone conclusion as to what a writer or 
 a book " ought," in the Ruskinian sense, 
 to be; the critic, in a word, who has, 
 a priori, no rule for a Hterary production 
 but that it shall have genuine life. Such 
 a critic (he gets much more out of his 
 opportunities, I think, than the other sort) 
 likes a writer exact ^y in proportion as he 
 is a challenge, an -ppeal to interpretation, 
 intelligence, ingenuity, to what is elastic 
 in the critical mind — in proportion indeed 
 as he may be a negation of things familiar 
 and taken for granted. . He feels in this 
 case how much more play and sensation 
 there is for himself. 
 
 Mr. Kipling, then, has the character that 
 furnishes plenty of play and of vicarious 
 experience — that makes any perceptive 
 reader foresee a rare luxury. He has the 
 great merit of being a compact and con- 
 venient illustration of the surest source of 
 interest in any painter of life — that of hav- 
 ing an identity as marked as a window- 
 frame. He is one of the illustrations, taken 
 near at hand, that help to clear up the 
 vexed question in the novel or the tale, of 
 kinds, camps, schools, distinctions, the 
 right way and the wrong way; so very 
 positively does he contribute to the show- 
 ing that there are just as many kinds, as 
 many ways, as many forms and degrees
 
 Introduction 7 
 
 of the " right," as there are personal points 
 in view. It is the blessing of the art he 
 practices that it is made up of experience 
 conditioned, infinitely, in this personal 
 way — the sum of the feeling of life as re- 
 produced by innumerable natures; natures 
 that feel through all their differences, testify 
 through their diversities. These differ- 
 ences, v/hich make the identity, are of the 
 individual; they form the channel by which 
 life flows through him, and how much he is 
 able to give us of life — in other words, 
 how much he appeals to us — depends on 
 whether they form it solidly. 
 
 This hardness of the conduit, cemented 
 with a rare assurance, is perhaps the most 
 striking idiosyncrasy of Mr. Kipling; and 
 what makes it more remarkable is that 
 accident of his extreme youth which, if we 
 talk about him at all, we can not affect to 
 ignore. I can not pretend to give a biog- 
 raphy or a chronology of the author of 
 *' Soldiers Three," but I can not overlook 
 the general, the importunate fact that, con- 
 fidently as he has caught the trick and 
 habit of this sophisticated world, he has 
 not been long of it. His extreme youth 
 is indeed what I may call his window-bar — 
 the support on which he somewhat rowdily 
 leans while he looks down at the human 
 scene with his pipe in his teeth; just as his 
 other conditions (to mention only some of
 
 8 Introduction 
 
 them), are his prodigious facility, which is 
 only less remarkable than his stiff selec- 
 tion; his unabashed temperament, his flexi- 
 ble talent, his smoking-room manner, his 
 familiar friendship with India — established 
 so rapidly, and so completely under his 
 control ; his delight in battle, his " cheek " 
 about women — and indeed about men and 
 about everything; his determination not to 
 be duped, his '' imperial " fiber, his love of 
 the inside view, the private soldier and the 
 primitive man. I must add further to this 
 list of attractions the remarkable way in 
 which he makes us aware that he has been 
 put up to the whole thing directly by life 
 (miraculously, in his teens), and not by the 
 communications of others. These ele- 
 ments, and many more, constitute a singu- 
 larly robust little literary character (our 
 use of the diminutive is altogether a note 
 of endearment and enjoyment) which, if it 
 has the rattle of high spirits and is in no 
 degree apologetic or shrinking, yet offers 
 a very liberal pledge in the way of good 
 faith and immediate performance. i\Ir. 
 Kipling's performance comes off before the 
 more circumspect have time to decide 
 whether they Hke him or not, and if you 
 have seen it once you will be sure to return 
 to the show. He makes us prick up our 
 ears to the good news that in the smoking- 
 room too there may be artists; and indeed
 
 Introduction . 9 
 
 to an intimation still more refined — that 
 the latest development of the modern also 
 may be, most successfully, for the canny 
 artist to put his victim ofif his guard by 
 imitating the amateur (superficially, of 
 course) to the life. 
 
 These, then, are some of the reasons why 
 Mr. Kipling may be dear to the analyst as 
 well as, ^1. Renan says, to the simple. The 
 simple may like him because he is v/onder- 
 ful about India, and India has not been 
 "done;" while there is plenty left for the 
 morbid reader in the surprises of his skill 
 and the fwriturc of his form, which are so 
 oddly independent of any distinctive lit- 
 erary note in him, any bookish associa- 
 tion. It is as one of the morbid that the 
 writer of these remarks (which doubtless 
 only too shamefully betray his character) 
 exposes himself as most consentingly under 
 the spell. The freshness arising from a 
 subject that — by a good fortune I do not 
 mean to underestimate — has never been 
 " done," is after all less of an affair to build 
 upon than the freshness residing in the 
 temper of the artist. Happy indeed is Yir. 
 Kipling, who can command so much of 
 both kinds. It is still as one of the mor- 
 bid, no doubt — that is, as one of those 
 who are capable of sitting up all night for 
 a new impression of talent, of scouring the 
 trodden field for one little spot of green —
 
 I o Introduction 
 
 that I find our young author quite most 
 curious in his air, and not only in his air, 
 but in his evidently very real sense, of 
 knowing his way about life. Curious in 
 the highest degree and well worth attention 
 is such an idiosyncrasy as this in a young 
 Anglo-Saxon. We meet it with familiar 
 frequency in the budding talents of France, 
 and it startles and haunts us for an hour. 
 After an hour, however, the mystery is apt 
 to fade, for we find that the wondrous initi- 
 ation is not in the least general, is only 
 exceedingly special, and is, even with this 
 limitation, very often rather conventional. 
 In a word, it is with the ladies that the 
 young Frenchman takes his ease, and more 
 particularly with ladies selected expressly 
 to make this attitude convincing. When 
 they have let him ofif, the dimnesses too 
 often encompass him. But for Mr. Kip- 
 ling there are no dimnesses anyv/here, and 
 if the ladies are indeed violently distinct 
 they are not only strong notes in a univer- 
 sal loudness. This loudness fills the ears 
 of Mr. Kipling's admirers (it lacks sweet- 
 ness, no doubt, for those who are not of 
 the number), and there is really only one 
 strain that is absent from it — the voice, as 
 it were, of the civilized man; in whom I of 
 course also include the civilized woman. 
 But this is an element that for the present
 
 Introduction 1 1 
 
 one does not miss — every other note is so 
 articulate and direct. 
 
 It is a part of the satisfaction the author 
 gives us that he can make us speculate as 
 to whether he vvill be able to complete his 
 picture altogether (this is as far as we pre- 
 sume to go in meddling with the question 
 of his future) without bringing in the com- 
 plicated soul. On the day he does so, if 
 he handles it with anything like the clever- 
 ness he has already shown, the expectation 
 of his friends will take a great bound. 
 Meanwhile, at any rate, we have Mulvaney, 
 and Mulvaney is after all tolerably compli- 
 cated. He is only a six-foot saturated Irish 
 private, but he is a considerable pledge of 
 more to come. Hasn't he, for that matter, 
 the tongue of a hoarse siren, and hasn't he 
 also mysteries and infinitudes almost Car- 
 lylese? Since I am speaking of him I may 
 as well say that, as an evocation, he has 
 probably led captive those of Mr. Kipling's 
 readers who have most given up resistance. 
 He is a piece of portraiture of the largest, 
 vividest kind, growing and growing on the 
 painter's hands without ever outgrowing 
 them. I can't help regarding him, in a 
 certain sense, as Mr. Kipling's tutelary 
 deity — a landmark in the direction in 
 which it is open to him to look furthest. If 
 the author will only go as far in this direc- 
 tion as Mulvaney is capable of taking him
 
 1 2 Introduction 
 
 (and the inimitable Irishman is, like Vol- 
 taire's Habakkuk, capable de tout), he may 
 still discover a treasure and find a reward 
 for the services he has rendered the winner 
 of Dinah Shadd. I hasten to add that the 
 truly appreciative reader should surely 
 have no quarrel with the primitive element 
 in Mr. Kipling's subject-matter, or with 
 what, for want of a better name, I may call 
 his love of low life. What is that but 
 essentially a part of his freshness? And 
 for what part of his freshness are we exactly 
 more thankful than for just this smart 
 jostle that he gives the old stupid super- 
 stition that the amiability of a story-teller 
 is the amiability of the people he repre- 
 sents — that their vulgarity, or depravity, 
 or gentility, or fatuity are tantamount to 
 the same qualities in the painter itself? A 
 blow from which, apparently, it will not 
 easily recover is dealt this infantine phil- 
 osophy by Mr. Howells when, with the 
 most distinguished dexterity and all the 
 detachment of a master, he handles some 
 of the clumsiest, crudest, most human 
 things in life — answering surely thereby 
 the play-goers in the sixpenny gallery who 
 howl at the representative of the villain 
 when he comes before the curtain. 
 
 Nothing is more refreshing than this 
 active, disinterested sense of the real; it is 
 doubtless the quality for the want of more
 
 Introduction 1 3 
 
 of which our English and American fiction 
 has turned so wofully stale. We are rid- 
 den by the old conventionalities of type 
 and small proprieties of observance — by 
 the foolish baby-formula (to put it sketch- 
 ily) of the picture and the subject. Mr. 
 Kipling has all the air of being disposed to 
 lift the whole business off the nursery car- 
 pet, and of being perhaps even more able 
 than he is disposed. One must hasten of 
 course to parenthesize that there is not, 
 intrinsically, a bit more luminosity in treat- 
 ing of low life and of primitive man than 
 of those whom civilization has kneaded to 
 a finer paste: the only luminosity in either 
 case is in the intelligence with which the 
 thing is done. But it so happens that, 
 among ourselves, the frank, capable out- 
 look, when turned upon the vulgar major- 
 ity, the coarse, receding edges of the social 
 perspective, borrows a charm from being 
 new; such a charm as, for instance, repeti- 
 tion has already despoiled it of among the 
 French — the hapless French who pay the 
 penalty as well as enjoy the glow of living 
 intellectually so much faster than we. It 
 is the most inexorable part of our fate that 
 we grow tired of everything, and of course 
 in due time we may grow tired even of 
 what explorers shall come back to tell us 
 about the great grimy condition, or, with 
 unprecedented items and details, about the
 
 14 Introduction 
 
 gray middle state which darkens into it 
 But the explorers, bless them! may have 
 a long day before that; it is early to trouble 
 about reactions, so that we must give them 
 the benefit of every presumption. We are 
 thankful for any boldness and any sharp 
 curiosity, and that is why we are thankful 
 for Mr. Kipling's general spirit and for 
 most of his excursions. 
 
 Many of these, certainly, are into a 
 region not to be designated as superficially 
 dim, though indeed the author always 
 reminds us that India is above all the land 
 of mystery. A large part of his high 
 spirits, and of ours, comes doubtless from 
 the amusement of such vivid, heterogene- 
 ous material, from the irresistible magic of 
 scorching suns, subject empires, uncanny 
 religions, uneasy garrisons and smoth- 
 ered-up women — from heat and color and 
 danger and dust. India is a portentous 
 image, and we are duly awed by the famili- 
 arities it undergoes at Mr. Kipling's hand 
 and by the fine impunity, the sort of for- 
 tune that favors the brave, of his want of 
 awe. An abject humility is not his strong 
 point, but he gives us something instead 
 of it — vividness and drollery, the vision 
 and the thrill of many things, the misery 
 and strangeness of most, the personal sense 
 of a hundred queer contacts and risks. 
 And then in the absence of respect he has
 
 Introduction 1 5 
 
 plenty of knowledge, and if knowledge 
 should fail him he would have plenty of 
 invention. Moreover, if invention should 
 ever fail him, he would still have the lyric 
 string and the patriotic chord, on which 
 he plays admirably; so that it may be said 
 he is a man of resources. What he gives 
 us, above all, is the feeling of the English 
 manner and the English blood in condi- 
 tions they have made at once so much and 
 so little their own ; with manifestations gro- 
 tesque enough in some of his satiric 
 sketches and deeply impressive in some of 
 his anecdotes of individual responsibility. 
 His Indian impressions divide themselves 
 into three groups, one of which, I think, 
 very much outshines the others. First to 
 be mentioned are the tales of native life, 
 curious glimpses of custom and supersti- 
 tion, dusky matters not beholden of the 
 many, for which the author has a remark- 
 able -flair. Then comes the social, the 
 Anglo-Indian episode, the study of admin- 
 istrative and military types, and of the won- 
 derful rattling, riding ladies who, at Simla 
 and more desperate stations, look out for 
 husbands and lovers; often, it would seem, 
 and husbands and lovers of others. The 
 most brilliant group is devoted wholly 
 to the common soldier, and of this 
 series it appears to me that too much 
 good is hardly to be said. Here Mr.
 
 1 6 Introduction 
 
 Kipling, with all his off-handedness, is 
 a master; for we are held not so much 
 by the greater or less oddity of the 
 particular yarn — sometimes it is scarcely 
 a yarn at all, but something much less arti- 
 ficial — as by the robust attitude of the nar- 
 rator, who never arranges or glosses or 
 falsifies, but makes straight for the com- 
 mon and the characteristic. I have men- 
 tioned the great esteem in which I hold 
 Mulvaney — surely a charming man and 
 one qualified to adorn a higher sphere. 
 Mulvaney is a creation to be proud of, and 
 his two comrades stand as firm on their 
 legs. In spite of Mulvaney's social possi- 
 bilities, they are all three finished brutes; 
 but it is precisely in the finish that we 
 delight. Whatever Air. Kipling may relate 
 about them forever will encounter readers 
 equally fascinated and unable fully to jus- 
 tify their faith. 
 
 Are not those literary pleasures after all 
 the most intense which are the most per- 
 verse and whimsical, and even indefensible? 
 There is a logic in them somewhere, but 
 it often lies below the plummet of criti- 
 cism. The spell may be weak in a writer 
 who has every reasonable and regular 
 claim, and it may be irresistible in one who 
 presents himself with a style corresponding 
 to a bad hat. A good hat is better than 
 a bad one, but a conjurer may wear either.
 
 Introduction 17 
 
 Many a reader will never be able to say 
 what secret human force lays its hand upon 
 him when Private Ortheris, having sworn 
 " quietly into the blue sky," goes mad with 
 homesickness by the yellow river and 
 raves for the basest sights and sounds of 
 London. I can scarcely tell why I think 
 " The Courting of Dinah Shadd " a master- 
 piece (though, indeed, I can make a shrewd 
 guess at one of the reasons), nor would it 
 be worth while perhaps to attempt to 
 defend the same pretension in regard to 
 " On Greenhow Hill " — much less to 
 trouble the tolerant reader of these remarks 
 with a statement of how many more per- 
 formances in the nature of " The End of the 
 Passage" (quite admitting even that they 
 might not represent Mr. Kipling at his 
 best) I am conscious of a latent relish for. 
 One might as well admit while one is about 
 it that one has wept profusely over '* The 
 Drums of the Fore and Aft," the history 
 of the " Dutch courage " of tvv'o dreadful 
 dirty little boys, who, in the face of Afghans 
 scarcely more dreadful, saved the reputa- 
 tion of their regiment and perished, the 
 least mawkishly in the world, in a squalor 
 of battle incomparably expressed. People 
 who know how peaceful they are them- 
 selves and have no bloodshed to reproach 
 themselves with needn't scruple to mention 
 the glamour that Mr. Kipling's intense mil*
 
 1 8 Introduction 
 
 itarism has for them, and how astonishing 
 and contagious they find it, in spite of the 
 imromantic complexion of it — the way it 
 bristles with all sorts of uglinesses and 
 technicalities. Perhaps that is why I go all 
 the way even with " The Gadsbys " — the 
 Gadsbys were so connected (uncomfort- 
 ably, it is true) with the army. There is 
 fearful fighting — or a fearful danger of 
 it — in "The Alan Who Would be King: " 
 is that the reason we are deeply affected 
 by this extraordinary tale? It is one of 
 them, doubtless, for Mr. Kipling has many 
 reasons, after all, on his side, though they 
 don't equally call aloud to be uttered. 
 
 One more of them, at any rate, I must 
 add to these unsystematized remarks — it 
 is the one I spoke of a shrewd guess at in 
 alluding to " The Courting of Dinah 
 Shadd." The talent that produces such a 
 tale is a talent eminently in harmony with 
 the short story, and the short story is, on 
 our side of the Channel and of the Atlantic, 
 a mine which will take a great deal of work- 
 ing. Admirable is the clearness with 
 which Mr. Kipling perceives this — per- 
 ceives what innumerable chances it gives, 
 chances of touching life in a thousand dif- 
 ferent places, taking it up in innumerable 
 pieces, each a specimen and an illustration. 
 In a word, he appreciates the episode, and 
 there are signs to show that this shrewd-
 
 Introduction 
 
 19 
 
 ness will, in general, have long innings. It 
 will find the detachable, compressible 
 "case" and admirable, flexible form; the 
 cultivation of which may well add to the 
 mistrust already entertained by Mr. Kip- 
 ling, if his manner does not betray him, for 
 what is clumsy and tasteless in the time- 
 honored practice of the " plot." It will for- 
 tify him in the conviction that the vivid 
 picture has a greater communicative value 
 than the Chinese puzzle. There is little 
 enough " plot " in such a perfect little piece 
 of hard representation as " The End of the 
 Passage," to cite again only the most sali- 
 ent of twenty examples. 
 
 But I am speaking of our author's future, 
 which is the luxury that I meant to forbid 
 myself — precisely because the subject is 
 so tempting. There is nothing in the world 
 (for the prophet) so charming as to proph- 
 esy, and as there is nothing so inconclusive 
 the tendency should be repressed in pro- 
 portion as the opportunity is good. There 
 is a certain want of courtesy to a peculiarly 
 contemporaneous present even in speculat- 
 ing, with a dozen differential precautions, 
 on the question of what will become in the 
 later hours of the day of a talent that has 
 got up so early. Mr. Kipling's actual per- 
 formance is like a tremendous walk before 
 breakfast, making one welcome the idea 
 of the meal, but consider with some alarm
 
 20 Introduction 
 
 the hours still to be traversed. Yet if his 
 breakfast is all to come, the indications are 
 that he will be more active than ever after 
 he has had it. Among these indications 
 are the unflagging character of his pace 
 and the excellent form, as they say in ath- 
 letic circles, in which he gets over the 
 ground. We don't detect him stumbling; 
 on the contrary, he steps out quite as 
 briskly as at first, and still more firmly. 
 There is something zealous and craftsman- 
 like in him which shows that he feels both 
 joy and responsibility. A whimsical, wan- 
 ton reader, haunted by a recollection of all 
 the good things he has seen spoiled; by a 
 sense of the miserable, or, at any rate, the 
 inferior, in so m.any continuations and end- 
 ings, is almost capable of perverting poetic 
 justice to the idea that it would be even 
 positively well for so surprising a producer 
 to remain simply the fortunate, suggestive, 
 unconfirmed and unqualified representative 
 of what he has actually done. We can 
 always refer to that. 
 
 Henry James.
 
 BIMI 
 
 The orang-outang in the big iron cage 
 lashed to the sheep-pen began the discus- 
 sion. The night was stiflingly hot, and as 
 Hans Breitmann and I passed him, drag- 
 ging our bedding to the fore-peak of the 
 steamer, he roused himself and chattered 
 obscenely. He had been caught some- 
 where in the Malayan Archipelago, and 
 was going to England to be exhibited at 
 a shilling a head. For four days he had 
 struggled, yelled, and wrenched at the 
 heavy iron bars of his prison without ceas- 
 ing, and had nearly slain a Lascar incau- 
 tious enough to come within reach of the 
 great hairy paw. 
 
 '* It would be well for you, mine friend, 
 if you was a Hddle seasick," said Hans 
 Breitmann, pausing by the cage. " You 
 haf too much Ego in your Cosmos." 
 
 The orang-outng's arm slid out negli- 
 gently from between the bars. No one 
 would have believed that it would make a 
 sudden snake-like rush at the German's
 
 22 Mine Own People 
 
 breast. The thin silk of the sleeping-suit 
 tore out: Hans stepped back unconcern- 
 edly, to pluck a banana from a bunch hang- 
 ing close to one of the boats. 
 
 " Too much Ego,'*' said he, peeling the 
 fruit and offering it to the caged devil, who 
 was rending the silk to tatters. 
 
 Then we laid out our bedding in the bows, 
 among the sleeping Lascars, to catch any 
 breeze that the pace of the ship might give 
 us. The sea was like smoky oil, except 
 where it turned to fire under our forefoot 
 and whirled back into the dark in smears 
 of dull flame. There was a thimder-storm 
 some miles away: w^e could see the glim- 
 mer of the lightning. The ship's cow, dis- 
 tressed by the heat and the smell of the 
 ape-beast in the cage, lowed unhappily 
 from time to time in exactly the same key 
 as the lookout man at the bows answered 
 the hourly call from the bridge. The 
 trampling tune of the engines was very dis- 
 tinct, and the jarring of the ash-lift, as it 
 was tipped into the sea, hurt the procession 
 of hushed noise. Hans lay down by my 
 side and lighted a good-night cigar. This 
 was naturally the beginning of conversa- 
 tion. He owned a voice 's soothing as the 
 wash of the sea, and stores of experiences 
 as vast as the sea itself; for his business in 
 life was to wander up and down the world, 
 collecting orchids and wild beasts and eth
 
 Bimi 23 
 
 nological specimens for German and 
 American dealers. I watched the glowing 
 end of his cigar wax and wane in the 
 gloom, as the sentences rose and fell, till 
 I was nearly asleep. The orang-outang, 
 troubled by some dream of the forests of 
 his freedom, began to yell like a soul in 
 purgatory, and to wrench madly at the bars 
 of the cage. 
 
 " If he was out now dere would not be 
 much of us left, hereabouts," said Hans 
 lazily. " He screams good. See, now, 
 how I shall tame him when he stops 
 himself." 
 
 There was a pause in the outcry, and 
 from Hans' mouth came an imitation of a 
 snake's hiss, so perfect that I almost sprung 
 to my feet. The sustained murderous 
 sound ran along the deck, and the wrench- 
 ing at the bars ceased. The orang-outang 
 was quaking in an ecstasy of pure terror. 
 
 " Dot stop him," said Hans. " I learned 
 dot trick in Mogoung Tanjong when I was 
 collecting liddle monkeys for some peoples 
 in Berlin. Efery one in der world is afraid 
 of der monkeys — except der snake. So I 
 blay snake against monkey, and he keep 
 quite still. Dere was too much Ego in his 
 Cosmos. Dot is der soul-custom of mon- 
 keys. Are you asleep, or will you listen, 
 and I will tell a dale dot vou shall not 
 pelief ? "
 
 24 Mine Own People 
 
 " There's no tale in the wide world that 
 I can't believe," I said. 
 
 '' If you have learned pelief you haf 
 learned somedings. Now I shall try your 
 pelief. Good! When I was collecting 
 dose liddle monkeys — it was in '79 or '80, 
 und I was in der islands of der Archipelago 
 — over dere in der dark " — he pointed 
 southward to New Guinea generally — 
 " Mein Gott! I would sooner collect life 
 red devils than liddle monkeys. When dey 
 do not bite ofiF your thumbs dey are always 
 dying from nostalgia — home-sick — for 
 dey haf der imperfect soul, which is mid- 
 way arrested in defelopment — und too 
 much Ego. I was dere for nearly a year, 
 und dere I found a man dot was called 
 Bertran. He was a Frenchman, und he 
 was a goot man — naturalist to the bone. 
 Dey said he was an escaped convict, but 
 he was a naturalist, und dot was enough 
 for me. He would call all her life beasts 
 from der forest, und dey would come. I 
 said he was St. Francis of Assisi in a new 
 dransmigration produced, und he laughed 
 und said he haf never preach to der fishes. 
 He sold them for tripang — heche-de-mer. 
 
 " Und dot man, who was king of beasts- 
 tamer men, he had in der house shush such 
 anoder as dot devil-animal in der cage — 
 a great orang-outang dot thought he was 
 a man. He haf found him when he was
 
 Bimi 25 
 
 a child — der orang-outang — und he was 
 child and brother and opera comique all 
 round to Bertran. He had his room in dot 
 house — not a cage, but a room — mit a 
 bed and sheets, and he would go to bed and 
 get up in der morning and smoke his cigar 
 und eat his dinner mit Bertran, und walk 
 mit him hand-in-hand, which was most hor- 
 rible. Herr Gott! I haf seen dot beast 
 throw himself back in his chair and laugh 
 when Bertran haf made fun of me. He 
 was not a beast; he was a man, and he 
 talked to Bertran, und Bertran compre- 
 hended, for I have seen dem. Und he was 
 alwa3's politeful to me except when I talk 
 too long to Bertran und say noddings at all 
 to him. Den he would pull me away — 
 dis great, dark devil, mit his enormous 
 paws — shush as if I was a child. He was 
 not a beast, he was a man. Dis I saw 
 pefore I know him three months, und Ber- 
 tran he haf saw the same; and Bimi, der 
 orang-outang, haf understood us both, mit 
 his cigar between his big-dog teeth und der 
 blue gum. 
 
 " I was dere a year, dere und at der oder 
 islands — somedimes for monkeys and 
 somedimes for butterflies und orchits. 
 One time Bertran say to me dot he will be 
 married, because he haf found a girl dot 
 was goot, and he inquire if this marrying 
 idea was right. I would not say, pecause it
 
 26 Mine Own People 
 
 was not me dot was going to be married. 
 Den he go off courting der girl — she was 
 a half-caste French girl — very pretty. 
 Haf you got a new light for my cigar? 
 Oof! Very pretty. Only I say: 'Haf 
 you thought of Bimi? If he pulls me away 
 when I talk to you, what will he do to your 
 wife? He will pull her in pieces. If I was 
 you, Bertran, I would gif my wife for wed- 
 ding present der stuff figure of Bimi.' By 
 dot time I had learned somedings about der 
 monkey peoples. 'Shoot him?' says Ber- 
 tran. ' He is your beast,' I said; ' if he was 
 mine he would be shot now.' 
 
 "Den I felt at der back of my neck der 
 fingers of Bimi. Mein Gott! I tell you 
 dot he talked through dose fingers. It was 
 der deaf-and-dumb alphabet all gomplete. 
 He slide his hairy arm round my neck, and 
 he tilt up my chin und look into my face, 
 shust to see if I understood his talk so well 
 as he understood mine. 
 
 "'See now dere! ' says Bertran, 'und 
 you would shoot him while he is cuddling 
 you? Dot is der Teuton ingrate! ' 
 
 " But I knew dot I had made Bimi a life's 
 enemy, pecause his fingers haf talk murder 
 through the back of my neck. Next dime 
 I see Bimi dere was a pistol in my belt, und 
 he touch it once, and I open der breech to 
 show him it was loaded. He haf seen der
 
 Bimi 27 
 
 liddle monkeys killed in der woods, and he 
 understood. 
 
 " So Bertran he was married, and he for- 
 got clean about Bimi dot was skippin' 
 alone on der beach mit der half of a human 
 soul in his belly. I was see him skip, und 
 he took a big bough und thrash der sand 
 till he haf made a great hole like a grave. 
 So I says to Bertran: 'For any sakes, kill 
 Bimi. He is mad mit der jealousy.' 
 
 "Bertran haf said: 'He is not mad at 
 all. He haf obey and love my wife, und 
 if she speaks he will get her slippers,' und 
 he looked at his wife across der room. She 
 was a very pretty girl. 
 
 , " Den I said to him: ' Dost thou pretend 
 to know monkeys und dis beast dot is lash- 
 ing himself mad upon der sands, pecause 
 you do not talk to him? Shoot him when 
 he comes to der house, for he haf der light 
 in his eyes dot means killing — und kill- 
 ing.' Bimi come to der house, but dere 
 was no light in his eyes. It was all put 
 away, cunning — so cunning — und he 
 fetch der girl her slippers, and Bertran turn 
 to me und say: 'Dost thou know him. in 
 nine months more dan I haf known him in 
 twelve years? Shall a child stab his fader? 
 I have fed him, und he was my child. Do 
 not speak this nonsense to my wife or to 
 me any more.' 
 
 " Dot next day Bertran came to my
 
 28 Mine Own People 
 
 house to help me make some wood cases 
 for der specimens, und he tell me dot he 
 haf left his wife a liddle while mit Bimi in 
 der garden. Den I finish my cases quick, 
 und I say : ' Let us go to your house und 
 get a trink.' He laugh und say: ' Come 
 along, dry mans.' 
 
 " His wife was not in der garden, und 
 Bimi did not come when Bertran called. 
 Und his wife did not come when he called, 
 und he knocked at her bedroom door und 
 dot was shut tight — locked. Den he look 
 at me, und his face was white. I broke 
 down der door mit my shoulder, und der 
 thatch of der roof was torn into a great 
 hole, und der sun came in upon der floor. 
 Haf you ever seen paper in der waste- 
 basket, or cards at whist on der table scat- 
 tered? Dere was no wife dot could be 
 seen. I tell you dere was noddings in dot 
 room dot might be a woman. Dere was 
 stuff on der floor, und dot was all. I 
 looked at dese things und I was very sick; 
 but Bertran looked a liddle longer at what 
 was upon the floor und der walls, und der 
 hole in der thatch. Den he pegan to laugh, 
 soft and low, und I knew und thank Gott 
 dot he was mad. He nefer cried, he nefer 
 prayed. He stood still in der doorway und 
 laugh to himself. Den he said: 'She haf 
 locked herself in dis room, and he haf torn 
 up der thatch. Fi done. Dot is so. We
 
 Bimi 29 
 
 will mend der thatch und wait for Bimi. 
 He will surely come/ 
 
 " I tell you we vvaited ten days in dot 
 house, after der room was made into a 
 room again, and once or twice we saw Bimi 
 comin' a liddle way from der woods. He 
 was afraid pecause he haf done wrong. 
 Bertran called him when he was come to 
 look on the tenth day, und Bimi come skip- 
 ping along der beach und making noises, 
 mit a long piece of black hair in his hands. 
 Den Bertran laugh and say, ' Fi done! * 
 shust as if it was a glass broken upon der 
 table; und Bimi come nearer, und Bertran 
 was honey-sweet in his voice and laughed 
 to himself. For three days he made love 
 to Bimi, pecause Bimi would not let him- 
 self be touched. Den Bimi come to dinner 
 at der same table mit us, und der hair on 
 his hands was all black und thick mit — 
 mit what had dried on his hands. Bertran 
 gave him sangaree till Bimi was drunk and 
 stupid, und den 
 
 Hans paused to puff at his cigar. 
 
 "And then?" said L 
 
 "Und den Bertran kill him with his 
 hands, und I go for a walk upon der beach. 
 It was Bertran's own piziness. When I 
 come back der ape he was dead, und Ber- 
 tran he was dying abofe him; but still he 
 laughed a liddle und low, and he was quite 
 content. Nov/ you know der formula of
 
 30 Mine Own People 
 
 der strength of der orang-outang — it Is 
 more as seven to one in relation to man. 
 But Bertran, he haf killed Bimi mit sooch 
 dings as Gott gif him. Dot was der 
 mericle." 
 
 The infernal clamor in the cage recom- 
 menced. "Aha! Dot friend of ours haf 
 still too much Ego in his Cosmos. Be 
 quiet, thou ! " 
 
 Hans hissed long and venomously. We 
 could hear the great beast quaking in his 
 cage. 
 
 " But why in the world didn't you help 
 Bertran instead of letting him be killed?" 
 I asked. 
 
 " My friend," said Hans, composedly 
 stretching himself to slumber, " it was not 
 nice even to mineself dot I should lif after 
 I had seen dot room wit der hole in der 
 thatch. Und Bertran, he was her husband. 
 Goot-night, und sleep well."
 
 NAM GAY DOOLA 
 
 Once upon a time there was a king who 
 lived on the road to Thibet, very many 
 miles in the Himalaya ^Mountains. His 
 kingdom was ii,ooo feet above the sea, and 
 exactly four miles square, but miost of the 
 miles stood on end, owing to the nature of 
 the country. His revenues Vv^ere rather less 
 than £400 yearly, and they were expended 
 on the maintenance of one elephant and a 
 standing army of five men. He was trib- 
 utary to the Indian government, who 
 allowed him certain sums for keeping a sec- 
 tion of the Himalaya-Thibet road in repair. 
 He further increased his revenues by sell- 
 ing timber to the railway companies, for 
 he would cut the great deodar trees in his 
 ovv^n forest and they fell thundering into 
 the Sutlej River and were swept down to 
 the Plains, 300 miles avv^ay, and became 
 railway ties. Now and again this king, 
 whose name does not matter, would mount 
 a ring-streaked horse and ride scores of 
 miles to Simlatown to confer with the lieu- 
 
 31
 
 32 Mine Own People 
 
 tenant-governor on matters of state, or 
 assure the viceroy that his sword was at the 
 service of the queen-empress. Then the 
 viceroy would cause a ruffle of drums to be 
 sounded and the ring-streaked horse and 
 the cavalry of the state — two men in tat- 
 ters — and the herald who bore the Silver 
 Stick before the king would trot back to 
 their own place, which was between the 
 tail of a heaven-climbing glacier and a dark 
 birch forest. 
 
 Now, from such a king, always remem- 
 bering that he possessed one veritable ele- 
 phant and could count his descent for 1,200 
 years, I expected, when it was my fate to 
 wander through his dominions, no more 
 than mere license to live. 
 
 The night had closed in rain, and rolling 
 clouds blotted out the lights of the villages 
 in the valley. Forty miles away, un- 
 touched by cloud or storm, the white shoul- 
 der of Dongo Pa — the Mountain of the 
 Council of the Gods — upheld the evening 
 star. The monkeys sung sorrowfully to 
 each other as they hunted for dry roots in 
 the fern-draped trees, and the last puff of 
 the day-wind brought from the unseen vil- 
 lages the scent of damp wood smoke, hot 
 cakes, dripping undergrowth, and rotting 
 pine-cones. That smell is the true smell of 
 the Himalayas, and if it once gets into the 
 blood of a man he will, at the last, forget-
 
 Namgay Doola 33 
 
 ting everything else, return to the Hills 
 to die. The clouds closed and the smell 
 went away, and there remained nothing in 
 all the world except chilling white mists 
 and the boom of the Sutlej River. 
 
 A fat-tailed sheep, who did not want to 
 die, bleated lamentably at my tent-door. 
 He was scuffling with the prime minister 
 and the director-general of public educa- 
 tion, and lie was a royal gift to me and my 
 camp servants. I expressed my thanks 
 suitably and inquired if I might have audi- 
 ence of the king. The prime minister re- 
 adjusted his turban — it had fallen of¥ in 
 the struggle — and assured me that the 
 king would be very pleased to see me. 
 Therefore I dispatched two bottles as a 
 foretaste, and when the sheep had entered 
 upon another incarnation, climbed up to 
 the king's palace through the wet. He had 
 sent his army to escort me, but it stayed 
 to talk with my cook. Soldiers are very 
 much alike all the world over. 
 
 The palace was a four-roomed, white- 
 washed mud-and-timber house,, the finest 
 in all the Hills for a day's journey. The 
 king was dressed in a purple velvet jacket, 
 white muslin trousers, and a sai¥ron-yellow 
 turban of price. He gave me audience in 
 a little carpeted room opening off the pal- 
 ace court-yard, which was occupied by the 
 elephant of state. The great beast was
 
 34 Mine Own People 
 
 sheeted and anchored from trunk to tail, 
 and the curve of his back stood out against 
 the sky Hne. 
 
 The prime minister and the director-gen- 
 eral of pubHc instruction were present to 
 introduce me; but all the court had been 
 dismissed lest the two bottles aforesaid 
 should corrupt their morals. The king 
 cast a wreath of heavy, scented flowers 
 round my neck as I bowed, and inquired 
 how my honored presence had the felicity 
 to be. I said that through seeing his au- 
 spicious countenance the mists of the night 
 had turned into sunshine, and that by rea- 
 son of his beneficent sheep his good deeds 
 v/ould be remembered by the gods. He 
 said that since I had set my magnificent 
 foot in his kingdom the crops would prob- 
 ably yield seventy per cent, more than the 
 average. I said that the fame of the king 
 had reached to the four corners of the 
 earth, and that the nations gnashed their 
 teeth when they heard daily of the glory 
 of his realm and the wisdom of his moon- 
 like prime minister and lotus-eyed director- 
 general of public education. 
 
 Then we sat down on clean white cush- 
 ions, and I was at the king's right hand. 
 Three minutes later he was telling me that 
 the condition of the maize crop was some- 
 thing disgraceful, and that the railway 
 companies would not pay him enough for
 
 Namgay Doola 35 
 
 his timber. The talk shifted to and fro 
 with the bottles. We discussed very many 
 quaint things, and the king became confi- 
 dential on the subject of government gen- 
 erally. Most of all he dwelt on the short- 
 comings of one of his subjects, who, from 
 what I could gather, had been paralyzing 
 the executive. 
 
 '' In the old days," said the king, " I 
 could have ordered the elephant yonder to 
 trample him to death. Now I must e'en 
 send him seventy miles across the hills to 
 be tried, and his keep for that time would 
 be upon the state. And the elephant eats 
 everything." 
 
 '■ What be the man's crimes. Rajah 
 Sahib?" said I. 
 
 " Firstly, he is an ' outlander,' and no 
 man of mine own people. Secondly, since 
 of my favor I gave him land upon his com- 
 ing, he refuses to pay revenue. Am I not 
 the lord of the earth, above and below — 
 entitled by right and custom to one-eighth 
 of the crop? Yet this devil, establishing 
 himself, refuses to pay a single tax . . . 
 and he brings a poisonous spawn of 
 babies." 
 
 *' Cast him into jail," I said. 
 
 " Sahib," the king answered, shifting a 
 little on the cushions, " once and only once 
 in these forty years sickness came upon 
 me so that I was not able to go abroad.
 
 36 Mine Own People 
 
 In that hour I made a vow to my God that I 
 would never again cut man or woman from 
 the Hght of the sun and the air of God, for 
 I perceived the nature of the punishment. 
 How can I break my vow? Were it only 
 the lopping off of a hand or a foot, I should 
 not delay. But even that is impossible now 
 that the English have rule. One or an- 
 other of my people " — he looked obliquely 
 at the director-general of public education 
 — '' would at once write a letter to the vice- 
 roy, and perhaps I should be deprived of 
 that ruffle of drums." 
 
 He unscrewed the mouthpiece of his sil- 
 ver water-pipe, fitted a plain amber one, 
 and passed the pipe to me. '' Not content 
 with refusing revenue," he continued, 
 " this outlander refuses also to beegar " 
 (this is the corv^ee or forced labor on the 
 roads), " and stirs my people up to the like 
 treason. Yet he is, if so he wills, an expert 
 log-snatcher. There is none better or 
 bolder among my people to clear a block 
 of the river when the logs stick fast." 
 
 " But he Vv'orships strange gods," said 
 the prime minister, deferentially. 
 
 " For that I have no concern," said the 
 king, who was as tolerant as Akbar in mat- 
 ters of belief. *' To each man his own god, 
 and the fire or Mother Earth for us all at 
 the last. It is the rebellion that offends 
 me."
 
 Namgay Doola 37 
 
 " The king has an army," I suggested. 
 " Has not the king burned the man's house, 
 and left him naked to the night dews?" 
 
 '* Nay. A hut is a hut, and it holds the 
 life of a man. But once I sent my army 
 against him when his excuses became 
 wearisome. Of their heads he brake three 
 across the top with a stick. The other 
 tvv'o men ran away, r^^so the guns would 
 not shoot." 
 
 I had seen the equipment of the infantry. 
 One-third of it was an old muzzle-loading 
 fowling-piece with ragged rust holes where 
 the nipples should have been; one-third a 
 wire-bound matchlock with a worm-eaten 
 stock, and one-third a four-bore flint duck 
 gun, without a flint. 
 
 " But it is to be remembered," said the 
 king, reaching out for the bottle, " that he 
 is a very expert log-snatcher and a man of 
 a merry face. What shall I do to him, 
 sahib?" 
 
 This was interesting. The timid hill- 
 folk would as soon have refused taxes to 
 their king as offerings to their gods. The 
 rebel must be a man of character. 
 
 " If it be the king's permission," I said, 
 " I will not strike my tents till the third 
 day, and I will see this man. The mercy 
 of the king is godlike, and rebellion is like 
 unto the sin of witchcraft. Moreover, both 
 the bottles, and another, be empty."
 
 38 Mine Own People 
 
 " You have my leave to go," said the 
 king. 
 
 Next morning the crier went through the 
 state proclaiming that there vv^as a log-jam 
 on the river and that it behooved all loyal 
 subjects to clear it. The people poured 
 down from their villages to the moist, 
 warm valley of poppy fields, and the king 
 and I went with them. 
 
 Hundreds of dressed deodar logs had 
 caught on a snag of rock, and the river 
 was bringing down more logs every min- 
 ute to complete the blockade. The water 
 snarled and wrenched and worried at the 
 timber, while the population of the state 
 prodded at the nearest logs with poles, in 
 the hope of easing the pressure. Then 
 there went up a shout of " Namgay Doola! 
 Namgay Doola!" and a large, red-haired 
 villager hurried up, stripping off his clothes 
 as he ran. 
 
 " That is he. That is the rebel ! " said 
 the king. " Now will the dam be cleared." 
 
 " But why has he red hair? " I asked, 
 since red hair among hill-folk is as uncom- 
 mon as blue or green. 
 
 " He is an outlander," said the king. 
 *'^ Well done! Oh, well done! " 
 
 Namgay Doola had scrambled on the 
 jam and was clawing out the butt of a log 
 v/ith a rude sort of a boat-hook. It slid 
 forward slowly, as an alligator moves, and
 
 Namgay Doola 39 
 
 three or four others followed it. The green 
 water spouted through the gaps. Then the 
 villagers howled and shouted and leaped 
 among the logs, pulling and pushing the 
 obstinate timber, and the red head of Nam- 
 gay Doola was chief among them all. The 
 logs swayed and chafed and groaned as 
 fresh consignments from up-stream bat- 
 tered the now weakening dam. It gave 
 way at last in a smother of foam, racing 
 butts, bobbing black heads, and a confusion 
 indescribable, as the river tossed every- 
 thing before it. I saw the red head go 
 dovv-n with the last remnants of the jam 
 and disappear between the great grinding 
 tree trunks. It rose close to the bank, and 
 blowing like a grampus, Namgay Doola 
 wiped the water out of his eyes and made 
 obeisance to the king. 
 
 I had time to observe the man closely. 
 The virulent redness of his shock head and 
 beard was most startling, and in the thicket 
 of hair twinkled above high cheek-bones 
 two very merry blue eyes. He was indeed 
 an outlander, but yet a Thibetan in langu- 
 age, habit and attire. He spoke the Lepcha 
 dialect with an indescribable softening of 
 the gutturals. It was not so much a lisp 
 as an accent. 
 
 "Whence comest thou?" I asked, 
 wondering. 
 
 " From Thibet." He pointed across the
 
 40 Mine Own People 
 
 hills and grinned. That grin went straight 
 to my heart. Mechanically I held out my 
 hand, and Namgay Doola took it. No 
 pure Thibetan would have understood the 
 meaning of the gesture. He went away 
 to look for his clothes, and as he climbed 
 back to his village, I heard a joyous yell 
 that seemed unaccountably familiar. It 
 was the whooping of Namgay Doola. 
 
 " You see now," said the king, " why I 
 would not kill him. He is a bold man 
 among my logs, but," and he shook his 
 head like a schoolmaster, *' I know that 
 before long there will be complaints of him 
 in the court. Let us return to the palace 
 and do justice." 
 
 It was that king's custom to judge his 
 subjects every day between eleven and 
 three o'clock. I heard him do justice equi- 
 tably on weighty matters of trespass, slan- 
 der, and a little wife-stealing. Then his 
 brow clouded and he summoned me. 
 
 " Again it is Namgay Doola," he said, 
 despairingly. " Not content with refusing 
 revenue on his own part, he has bound half 
 his village by an oath to the like treason. 
 Never before has such a thing befallen me! 
 Nor are my taxes heavy." 
 
 A rabbit-faced villager, v^-ith a blush-rose 
 stuck behind his ear, advanced trembling. 
 He had been in Namgay Doola's con-
 
 Namgay Doola 41 
 
 spiracy, but had told everything and hoped 
 for the king's favor. 
 
 " Oh, king! " said I, '' if it be the king's 
 will, let this matter stand over till the morn- 
 ing. Only the gods can do right in a 
 hurry, and it may be that yonder villager 
 has lied." 
 
 " Nay, for I know the nature of Namgay 
 Doola; but since a guest asks, let the mat- 
 ter remain. Wilt thou, for my sake, speak 
 harshly to this red-headed outlander? He 
 may listen to thee." 
 
 I made an attempt that very evening, but 
 for the life of me 1 could not keep my 
 countenance. Namgay Doola grinned so 
 persuasively and began to tell me about a 
 big brown bear in a poppy field by the 
 river. Would I care to shoot that bear? 
 I spoke austerely on the sin of detected 
 conspiracy and the certainty of punish- 
 ment. Namgay Doola's face clouded for a 
 moment. Shortly afterward he withdrew 
 from my tent, and I heard him singing 
 softly among the pines. The words were 
 unintelligible to me, but the tune, like his 
 liquid, insinuating speech, seemed the 
 ghost of something strangely familiar. 
 
 " Dir hane mard-i-yemen dir 
 To weeree ala gee. " 
 
 crooned Namgay Doola again and again, 
 and I racked my brain for that lost tune.
 
 42 Mine Own People 
 
 It was not till after dinner that I discovered 
 some one had cut a square foot of velvet 
 from the center of my best camera cloth. 
 This made me so angry that I wandered 
 down the valley in the hope ot meeting 'the 
 big brown bear. I could hear him grunt- 
 ing like a discontented pig in the poppy 
 field as I waited shoulder deep in the dew- 
 dripping Indian corn to catch him after his 
 meal. The moon was at full and drew out 
 the scent of the tasseled crop. Then I 
 heard the anguished bellow of a Himalayan 
 cow — one of the little black crummies no 
 bigger than Newfoundland dogs. Two 
 shadows that looked like a bear and her 
 cub hurried past me. I v/as in the act of 
 firing when I saw that each bore a brilliant 
 red head. The lesser animal was trailing 
 something rope-like that left a dark track 
 on the path. They were within six feet 
 of me, and the shadow of the moonlight lay 
 velvet-black on their faces. Velvet-black 
 was exactly the word, for by all the powers 
 of moonlight they were masked in the vel- 
 vet of my camera-cloth. I marveled, and 
 went to bed. 
 
 Next morning the kingdom was in an 
 uproar. Namgay Doola, men said, had 
 gone forth in the night and with a sharp 
 knife had cut ofT the tail of a cow belong- 
 ing to the rabbit-faced villager who had 
 betrayed him. It was sacrilege unspeak*
 
 Namgay Doola 43 
 
 able against the holy cow! The state 
 desired his blood, but he had retreated into 
 his hut, barricaded the doors and windows 
 with big stones, and defied the world. 
 
 The king and I and the populace ap- 
 proached the hut cautiously. There was 
 no hope of capturing our man without loss 
 of life, for from a hole in the wall projected 
 the muzzle of an extremely well-cared-for 
 gun — the only gun in the state that could 
 shoot. Namgay Doola had narrowly 
 missed a villager just before we came up. 
 
 The standing army stood. 
 
 It could do no more, for when it ad- 
 vanced pieces of sharp shale flew from the 
 windows. To these were added from time 
 to time showers of scalding water. We 
 saw red heads bobbing up and down 
 within. The family of Namgay Doola 
 were aiding their sire. Blood-curdling 
 yells of defiance were the only answer to 
 our prayers. 
 
 " Never," said the king, puffing, " has 
 such a thing befallen my state. Next year 
 I will certainly buy a little cannon." He 
 looked at me imploringly, 
 
 " Is there any priest in the kingdom to 
 whom he will listen?" said I, for a light 
 was beginning to break upon me. 
 
 " He worships his own god," said the 
 prime minister. "We can but starve him 
 out"
 
 44 Mine Own People 
 
 " Let the white man approach/* said 
 Namgay Doola from within. " All others 
 I will kill. Send me the white man." 
 
 The door was thrown open and I entered 
 the smoky interior of a Thibetan hut cram- 
 med with children. And every child had 
 ilaming red hair. A fresh-gathered cow's 
 tail lay on the floor, and by its side two 
 pieces of black velvet — my black velvet — 
 rudely hacked into the semblance of masks. 
 
 " And what is this shame, Namgay 
 Doola? " I asked. 
 
 He grinned more charmingly than ever. 
 ^' There is no shame," said he. " I did but 
 cut ofif the tail of that man's cow. He be- 
 trayed me. I was minded to shoot him, 
 sahib, but not to death. Indeed, not to 
 death; only in the legs." 
 
 " And why at all, since it is the custom 
 to pay revenue to the king? Why at all? " 
 
 ** By the god of my father, I can not tell," 
 said Namgay Doola. 
 
 " And who was thy father? " 
 
 " The same that had this gun." He 
 showed me his weapon, a Tower musket, 
 bearing date 1832 and the stamp of the 
 Honorable East India Company. 
 
 "And thy father's name?" said I. 
 
 *' Timlay Doola," said he. " At the first, 
 I being then a little child, it is in my mind 
 that he wore a red coat."
 
 Namgay Doola 45 
 
 "Of that I have no doubt; but repeat 
 the name of thy father twice or thrice." 
 
 He obeyed, and I understood whence the 
 puzzHng accent in his speech came. 
 "Thimla Dhula! " said he excitedly. '* To 
 this hour I worship his god." 
 
 "May I see that god?" 
 
 " In a Httle while — at twilight time." 
 
 " Rememberest thou aught of thy father's 
 speech?" 
 
 *' It is long ago. But there was one 
 word which he said often. Thus, * 'Shun! ' 
 Then I and my brethren stood upon our 
 feet, our hands to our sides, thus." 
 
 " Even so. And what was thy mother? " 
 
 "A woman of the Hills. We be Lep- 
 chas of Darjiling, but me they call an out- 
 lander because my hair is as thou seest." 
 
 The Thibetan woman, his wife, touched 
 him on the arm gently. The long parley 
 outside the fort had lasted far into the day. 
 It was now close upon twilight — the hour 
 of the Angelus. Very solemnly the red- 
 headed brats rose from the floor and 
 formed a semicircle. Namgay Doola laid 
 his gun aside, lighted a little oil-lamp, and 
 set it before c. recess in the wall. Pulling 
 back a whisp of dirty cloth, he revealed a 
 worn brass crucifix leaning against the hel- 
 met badge of a long-forgotten East India 
 Company's regiment. " Thus did my 
 father," he said, crossing himself clumsily.
 
 46 Mine Own People 
 
 The wife and children followed suit. Then, 
 all together, they struck up the wailing 
 chant that I heard on the hill-side; 
 
 " Dir hane mard-i-yemen dir 
 To weeree ala gee." 
 
 I was puzzled no longer. Again and 
 again they sung, as if their hearts would 
 break, their version of the chorus of " The 
 Wearing of the Green": 
 
 *' They're hanging men and women, too. 
 For the wearing of the green." 
 
 A diabolical inspiration came to me. 
 One of the brats, a boy about eight years 
 old — could he have been in the fields last 
 night? — was watching me as he sung. I 
 pulled out a rupee, held the coin between 
 finger and thumb, and looked — only 
 looked — at the gun leaning against the 
 wall. A grin of brilliant and perfect com- 
 prehension overspread his porringer-like 
 face. Never for an instant stopping the 
 song, he held out his hand for the money, 
 and then slid the gun to my hand. I might 
 have shot Namgay Doola dead as he 
 chanted, but I was satisfied. The inevi- 
 table blood-instinct held true. Namgay 
 Doola drew the curtain across the recess. 
 Angelus was over. 
 
 "Thus my father sung. There was 
 much more, but I have forgotten, and I do 
 not know the purport of even these words,
 
 Namgay Doola 47 
 
 but it may be that the god will understand. 
 I am not of this people, and I will not pay 
 revenue." 
 
 "And why?" 
 
 Again that soul-compelling grin. " What 
 occupation would be to me between crop 
 and crop? It is better than scaring bears. 
 But these people do not understand." 
 
 He picked the masks off the floor and 
 looked in my face as simply as a child. 
 
 " By what road didst thou attain knowl- 
 edge to make those deviltries?" I said, 
 pointing. 
 
 '* I can not tell. I am but a Lepcha of 
 Darjiling, and yet the stuff " 
 
 ," Which thou hast stolen," said I. 
 
 "Nay, surely. Did I steal? I desired 
 it so. The stuff — the stuff. What else 
 should I have done with the stuff? " He 
 twisted the velvet between his fingers. 
 
 " But the sin of maiming the cow — con- 
 sider that." 
 
 " Oh, sahib, the man betrayed me; the 
 heifer's tail waved in the moonlight, and I 
 had my knife. What else should I have 
 done? The tail came off ere I was aware. 
 Sahib, thou knowest more than I." 
 
 " That is true," said I. '' Stay within 
 the door. I go to speak to the king." 
 The population of the state were ranged on 
 the hill-side. I went forth and spoke. 
 
 " Oh, king," said I, '' touching this man,
 
 48 Mine Own People 
 
 there be two courses open to thy wisdom. 
 Thou canst either hang him from a tree — 
 he and his brood — till there remains no 
 hair that is red within thy land." 
 
 " Nay," said the king. " Why should I 
 hurt the little children?" 
 
 They had poured out of the hut and 
 were making plump obeisances to every- 
 body. Namgay Doola waited at the door 
 with his gun across his arm. 
 
 '' Or thou canst, discarding their impiety 
 of the cow-maiming, raise him to honor in 
 thy army. He comes of a race that will 
 not pay revenue. A red flame is in his 
 blood which comes out at the top of his 
 head in that glowing hair. Make him chief 
 of thy army. Give him honor as may be- 
 fall and full allowance of work, but look 
 to it, oh, king, that neither he nor his hold 
 a foot of earth from thee henceforward. 
 Feed him with words and favor, and also 
 liquor from certain bottles that thou know- 
 est of, and he will be a bulwark of defense. 
 But deny him even a tuftlet of grass for 
 his own. This is the nature that God has 
 given him. Moreover, he has breth- 
 ren " 
 
 The state groaned unanimously. 
 
 " But if his brethren come they will 
 surely fight with each other till they die; 
 or else the one will always give information
 
 Namgay Doola 49 
 
 concerning the other. Shall he be of thy 
 army, oh, king? Choose." 
 
 The king bowed his head, and I said: 
 '' Come forth, Xamgay Doola, and com- 
 mand the king's army. Thy name shall no 
 more be Xamgay in the mouths of men, 
 but Patsay Doola, for, as thou hast truly 
 said, I know.'' 
 
 Then Namgay Doola, new-christened 
 Patsay Doola, son of Timlay Doola — 
 which is Tim Doolan — clasped the king's 
 feet, cuffed the standing army, and hurried 
 in an agony of contrition from temple to 
 temple making offerings for the sin of the 
 cattle-maiming. 
 
 And the king was so pleased with my 
 perspicacity that he offered to sell me a 
 village for £20 sterling. But I buy no 
 village in the Himalayas so long as one 
 red head flares between the tail of the 
 heaven-climbing glacier and the dark birch 
 forest. 
 
 I know that breed.
 
 THE RECRUDESCENCE 
 OF IMRAY 
 
 Imray had achieved the impossible. 
 Without warning, for no conceivable mo- 
 tive, in his youth and at the threshold of 
 his career he had chosen to disappear from 
 the world — which is to say, the little In- 
 dian station where he lived. Upon a day 
 he was alive, well, happy, and in great evi- 
 dence at his club, among the billiard-tables. 
 Upon a morning he was not, and no man- 
 ner of search could make sure where he 
 might be. He had stepped out of his 
 place; he had not appeared at his office at 
 the proper time, and his dog-cart was not 
 upon the public roads. For these reasons 
 and because he was hampering in a micro- 
 scopical degree the administration of the 
 Indian Empire, the Indian Empire paused 
 for one microscopical moment to make in- 
 quiry into the fate of Imray. Ponds were 
 dragged, wells were plumbed, telegrams 
 were dispatched down the lines of railways 
 
 50
 
 The Recrudescence of Imray 5 1 
 
 and to the nearest seaport town — 1200 
 miles away — but Imray was not at the 
 end of the drag-ropes nor the telegrams. 
 He was gone, and his place knew him no 
 more. Then the work of the great Indian 
 Empire swept forward, because it could not 
 be delayed, and Imray, from being a man, 
 became a mystery — such a thing as men 
 talk over at their tables in the club for a 
 month and then forget utterly. His guns, 
 horses, and carts were sold to the highest 
 bidder. His superior officer wrote an ab- 
 surd letter to his mother, saying that Imray 
 had unaccountably disappeared and his 
 bungalow stood empty on the road. 
 
 , After three or four months of the scorch- 
 ing hot weather had gone by, my friend 
 Strickland, of the police force, saw lit to 
 rent the bungalow from the native landlord. 
 This was before he was engaged to Miss 
 Youghai — an affair which has been de- 
 scribed in another place — and while he 
 was pursuing his investigations into native 
 life. His own life was sufficiently peculiar, 
 and men complained of his manners and 
 customs. There was always food in his 
 house, but there were no regular times for 
 meals. He eat, standing up and walking 
 about, whatever he might find on the side- 
 board, and this is not good for the insides 
 of human beings. His domestic equip- 
 ment was limited to six rifles, three shot-
 
 52 Mine Own People 
 
 guns, five saddles, and a collection of stiff- 
 jointed masheer rods, bigger and stronger 
 than the largest salmon rods. These things 
 occupied one-half of his bungalow, and the 
 other half was given up to Strickland and 
 his dog Tietjens — an enormous Rampur 
 slut, who sung when she was ordered, and 
 devoured daily the rations of two men. 
 She spoke to Strickland in a language of 
 her own, and whenever in her walks abroad 
 she saw things calculated to destroy the 
 peace of Her Majesty the Queen Empress, 
 she returned to her master and gave him 
 information. Strickland would take steps 
 at once, and the end of his labors was trou- 
 ble and fine and imprisonment for other 
 people. The natives believed that Tietjens 
 was a familiar spirit, and treated her with 
 the great reverence that is born of hate and 
 fear. One room in the bungalow was set 
 apart for her special use. She owned a 
 bedstead, a blanket, and a drinking-trough, 
 and if any one came into Strickland's room 
 at night, her custom was to knock down 
 the invader and give tongue till some one 
 came with a light. Strickland owes his 
 life to her. When he was on the frontier 
 in search of the local murderer who came 
 in the gray dawn to send Strickland much 
 further than the Andaman Islands, Tiet- 
 jens caught him as he was crawling into 
 Strickland's tent with a dagger between his
 
 The Recrudei-jence of Imray 53 
 
 teeth, and after his record of iniquity was 
 established in the eyes of the law, he was 
 hanged. From that date Tietjens wore a 
 collar of rough silver and employed a mon- 
 ogram on her night blanket, and the 
 blanket was double-woven Kashmir cloth, 
 for she was a delicate dog. 
 
 Under no circumstances would she be 
 separated from Strickland, and when he 
 was ill with fever she made great trouble 
 for the doctors because she did not know 
 how to help her master and would not 
 allow another creature to attempt aid. 
 Macarnaght, of the Indian Medical Service, 
 beat her over the head with a gun, before 
 she could understand that she must give 
 room for those who could give quinine. 
 
 A short time after Strickland had taken 
 Imray's bungalow, my business took me 
 through that station, and naturally, the 
 club quarters being full, I quartered myself 
 upon Strickland. It was a desirable bun- 
 galow, eight-roomed, and heavily thatched 
 against any chance of leakage from rain. 
 Under the pitch of the roof ran a ceiling 
 cloth, which looked just as nice as a white- 
 washed ceiling. The landlord had re- 
 painted it when Strickland took the 
 bungalow, and unless you knew how In- 
 dian bungalows were built you would never 
 have suspected that above the cloth lay the 
 dark, three-cornered cavern of the roof,
 
 54 Mine Own People 
 
 where the beams and the under side of the 
 thatch harbored all manner of rats, bats, 
 ants, and other things. 
 
 Tietjens met me in the veranda with a 
 bay like the boom of the bells of St, Paul's, 
 and put her paws on my shoulders and 
 said she was glad to see me. Strickland 
 had contrived to put together that sort of 
 meal which he called lunch, and immedi- 
 ately after it was finished went out about 
 his business. I was left alone with Tiet- 
 jens and my own affairs. The heat of the 
 summer had broken up and given place 
 to the warm damp of the rains. There was 
 no motion in the heated air, but the rain 
 fell like bayonet rods on the earth, and 
 flung up a blue mist where it splashed back 
 again. The bamboos and the custard ap- 
 ples, the poinsettias and the mango-trees 
 in the garden stood still while the warm 
 water lashed through them, and the frogs 
 began to sing among the aloe hedges. A 
 little before the light failed, and when the 
 rain was at its worst, I sat in the back ver- 
 anda and heard the water roar from the 
 eaves, and scratched myself because I was 
 covered with the thing they call prickly 
 heat. Tietjens came out with me and put 
 her head in my lap, and was very sorrow- . 
 ful, so I gave her biscuits when tea was 
 ready, and I took tea in the back veranda 
 on account of the little coolness I found
 
 The Recrudescence of Imray 55 
 
 there. The rooms of the house were dark 
 behind me. I could smell Strickland's sad- 
 dlery and the oil on his guns, and I did 
 not the least desire to sit among these 
 things. My own servant came to me in 
 the twilight, the muslin of his clothes cling- 
 ing tightly to his drenched body, and told 
 me that a gentleman had called and wished 
 to see some one. Very much against my 
 will, and because of the darkness of the 
 rooms, I went into the naked drawing- 
 room, telling my man to bring the lights. 
 There might or might not have been a 
 caller in the room — it seems to me that 
 I saw a figure by one of the windows, but 
 when the lights came there was nothing 
 save the spikes of the rain without and 
 the smell of the drinking earth in my nos- 
 trils. I explained to my man that he was 
 no wiser than he ought to be, and went 
 back to the veranda to talk to Tietjens. 
 She had gone out into the wet and I could 
 hardly coax her back to me — even with 
 biscuits with sugar on top. Strickland rode 
 back, dripping wet, just before dinner, and 
 the first thing he said was: 
 
 "Has any one called?" 
 
 I explained, with apologies, that my ser- 
 vant had called me into the drawing-room 
 on a false alarm; or that some loafer had 
 tried to call on Strickland, and, thinking 
 better of it, fled after giving his name.
 
 56 Mine Own People 
 
 Strickland ordered dinner without com- 
 ment and since it was a real dinner, with 
 white table-cloth attached, we sat down. 
 
 At nine o'clock Strickland wanted to go 
 to bed, and I was tired too. Tietjens, who 
 had been lying underneath the table, rose 
 up and went into the least-exposed veranda 
 as soon as her master moved to his own 
 room, which was next to the stately cham- 
 ber set apart for Tietjens, If a mere wife 
 had wished to sleep out-of-doors in that 
 pelting rain, it would not have mattered, 
 but Tietjens was a dog, and therefore the 
 better animal. I looked at Strickland, ex- 
 pecting to see him flog her with a whip. 
 He smiled queerly, as a man would smile 
 after telling some hideous domestic trag- 
 edy. " She has done this ever since I 
 moved in here." 
 
 The dog was Strickland's dog, so I said 
 nothing, but I felt all that Strickland felt 
 in being made light of. Tietjens encamped 
 outside my bedroom .vindow, and storm 
 after storm came up, thundered on the 
 thatch, and died away. The lightning 
 spattered the sky as a thrown egg spatters 
 a barn door, but the light was pale blue, 
 not yellow; and looking through my slit 
 bamboo blinds, I could see the great dog 
 standing, not sleeping, in the veranda, the 
 hackles alift on her back, and her feet 
 planted as tensely as the drawn wire rope
 
 The Recrudescence of Imray ^y 
 
 of a suspension bridge. In the very short 
 pauses of the thunder I tried to sleep, but 
 it seemed that some one wanted me very 
 badly. He, whoever he was, was trying to 
 call me by name, but his voice was no more 
 than a husky whisper. Then the thunder 
 ceased and Tietjens went into the garden 
 and howled at the low moon. Somebody 
 tried to open my door, and walked about 
 and through the house, and stood breath- 
 ing heavily in the verandas, and just when 
 I was falling asleep I fancied that I heard 
 a wild hammering and clamoring above my 
 head or on the door. 
 
 I ran into Strickland's room and asked 
 him whether he was ill and had been call- 
 ing for me. He was lying on the bed half- 
 dressed, with a pipe in his mouth. " I 
 thought you'd come," he said. " Have I 
 been walking around the house at all?" 
 
 I explained that he had been in the din- 
 ing-room and the smoking-room and two 
 or three other places; and he laughed and 
 told me to go back to bed. I went back 
 to bed and slept till the morning, but in 
 all my dreams I was sure I was doing some 
 one an injustice in not attending to his 
 wants. What those wants were I could 
 not tell, but a fluttering, whispering, bolt- 
 fumbling, luring, loitering some one was 
 reproaching me for my slackness, and 
 through all the dreams I heard the howling
 
 58 Mine Own People 
 
 of Tietjens in the garden and the thrashing 
 of the rain. 
 
 I was in that house for two days, and 
 Strickland went to his ofhce daily, leaving 
 me alone for eight or ten hours a day, with 
 Tietjens for my only companion. As long 
 as the full light lasted I was comfortable, 
 and so was Tietjens; but in the twilight she 
 and I moved into the back veranda and 
 cuddled each other for company. We were 
 alone in the house, but for all that it was 
 fully occupied by a tenant with whom I 
 had no desire to interfere. I never saw 
 him, but I could see the curtains between 
 the rooms quivering where he had just 
 passed through; I could hear the chairs 
 creaking as the bamboos sprung under a 
 weight that had just quitted them; and I 
 could feel when I went to get a book from 
 the dining-room that somebody was wait- 
 ing in the shadows of the front veranda till 
 I should have gone away. Tietjens made 
 the twilight more interesting by glaring 
 into the darkened rooms, w^ith every hair 
 erect, and follovv^ing the motions of some- 
 thing that I could not see. She never en- 
 tered the rooms, but her eyes moved, and 
 that was quite sufficient. Only when rny 
 servant came to trim the lamps and make 
 all light and habitable, she v/ould come in 
 with me and spend her time sitting on her 
 haunches watching an invisible extra man
 
 The Recrudescence of Imray 59 
 
 as he moved about behind my shoulder. 
 Dogs are cheerful companions. 
 
 I explained to Strickland, gently as 
 might be, that I would go over to the club 
 and find for, myself quarters there. I ad- 
 mired his hospitality, was pleased with his 
 guns and rods, but I did not much care 
 for his house and its atmosphere. He 
 heard me out to the end, and then smiled 
 very wearily, but without contempt, for he 
 is a man who understands things. '* Stay 
 on," he said, " and see what this thing 
 means. All you have talked about I have 
 known since I took the bungalow. Stay 
 on and wait. Tietjens has left me. Are 
 you going too?" 
 
 I had seen him through one little afifair 
 connected with an idol that had brought 
 me to the doors of a lunatic asylum, and 
 I had no desire to help him through fur- 
 ther experiences. He was a man to whom 
 unpleasantnesses arrived as do dinners to 
 ordinary people. 
 
 Therefore I explained more clearly than 
 ever that I liked him immensely, and would 
 be happy to see him in the daytime, but 
 that I didn't care to sleep under his roof. 
 This was after dinner, when Tietjens had 
 gone out to lie in the veranda. 
 
 " Ton my soul, I don't wonder," said 
 Strickland, with his eyes on the ceiling- 
 cloth. "Look at that!"
 
 6o Mine Own People 
 
 The tails of two snakes were hanging be- 
 tween the cloth and the cornice of the wall. 
 They threw long shadows in the lamp-light. 
 " If you are afraid of snakes, of course — " 
 said Strickland. " I hate and fear snakes, 
 because if you look into the eyes of any 
 snake you will see that it knows all and 
 more of man's fall, and that it feels all the 
 contempt that the devil felt vhen Adam 
 was evicted from Eden. Besides which its 
 bite is generally fatal, and it bursts up 
 trouser legs." 
 
 " You ought to get your thatch over- 
 hauled," I said, " Give me a masheer rod, 
 and we'll poke 'em down." 
 
 " They'll hide among the roof beams," 
 said Strickland. " I can't stand snakes 
 overhead. I'm going up. If I shake 'em 
 down, stand by with a cleaning-rod and 
 break their backs." 
 
 I was not anxious to assist Strickland 
 in his work, but I took the loading-rod and 
 waited in the dining-room, while Strick- 
 land brought a gardener's ladder from the 
 veranda and set it against the side of the 
 room. The snake tails drew themselves 
 up and disappeared. We could hear the 
 dry rushing scuttle of long bodies running 
 over the baggy cloth. Strickland took a 
 lamp with him, while I tried to make clear 
 the danger of hunting roof snakes between 
 a ceiling-cloth and a thatch, apart from the
 
 The Recrudescence of Imray 6 1 
 
 deterioration of property caused by ripping 
 out ceiling-cloths. 
 
 "Nonsense!" said Strickland. "They're 
 sure to hide near the walls by the cloth. 
 The bricks are too cold for 'em, and the 
 heat of the room is just what they like." 
 He put his hand to the corner of the cloth 
 and ripped the rotten stuff from the cor- 
 nice. It gave a great sound of tearing, 
 and Strickland put his head through the 
 opening into the dark of the angle of the 
 roof beams. I set my teeth and lifted the 
 loading-rod, for I had not the least knowl- 
 edge of what might descend. 
 
 " H'm," said Strickland; and his voice 
 rolled and rumbled in the roof. "There's 
 room for another set of rooms up here, 
 and, by Jove! some one is occupying 'em." 
 
 "Snakes?" I said down below. 
 
 " No. It's a buffalo. Hand me up the 
 two first joints of a masheer rod, and I'll 
 prod it. It's lying on the main beam." 
 
 I handed up the rod. 
 
 "What a nest for owls and serpents! 
 No wonder the snakes live here," said 
 Strickland, climbing further into the roof. 
 I could see his elbow thrusting with the 
 rod. " Come out of that, whoever you are! 
 Look out! Heads below there! It's 
 tottering." 
 
 I saw the ceiling-cloth nearly in the cen- 
 ter of the room bag with a shape that was
 
 62 Mine Own People 
 
 pressing it downward and downward to- 
 ward the lighted lamps on the table. I 
 snatched a lamp out of danger and stood 
 back. Then the cloth ripped out from the 
 walls, tore, split, swayed, and shot down 
 upon the table something that I dared not 
 look at till Strickland had slid down the 
 ladder and was standing by my side. 
 
 He did not say much, being a man of few 
 words, but he picked up the loose end of 
 the table-cloth and threw it over the thing 
 on the table. 
 
 " It strikes me," said he, pulling down 
 the lamp, " our friend Imray has come 
 back. Oh ! you would, would you ? " 
 
 There was a movement under the cloth, 
 and a little snake wriggled out. to be back- 
 broken by the butt of the masheer rod. I 
 was sufnciently sick to make no remarks 
 worth recording. 
 
 Strickland meditated and helped himself 
 to drinks liberally. The thing under the 
 cloth made no miOre signs of life. 
 
 " Is it Imray? " I said. 
 
 Strickland turned back the cloth for a 
 moment and looked. " It is Imray," he 
 said, '' and his throat is cut from ear to 
 ear." 
 
 Then we spoke both together and to our- 
 selves : '' That's why he whispered about 
 the house." 
 
 Tietjens, in the garden, began to bay
 
 The Recrudescence of Imray 63 
 
 furiously. A little later her great nose 
 heaved upon the dining-room door. 
 
 She sniffed and was still. The broken 
 and tattered ceiling-cioth hung down 
 almost to the level of the table, and there 
 was hardly room to move away from the 
 discovery. 
 
 Then Tietjens came in and sat down, her 
 teeth bared and her forepaws planted. She 
 looked at Strickland. 
 
 " It's bad business, old lady," said he. 
 " Men don't go up into the roofs of their 
 bungalows to die, and they don't fasten up 
 the ceiling-cloth behind 'em. Let's think 
 it out." 
 
 '' Let's think it out somewhere else," I 
 said. 
 
 "Excellent idea! Turn the lamps out. 
 We'll get into my room." 
 
 I did not turn the lamps out. I went 
 into Strickland's room first and allowed 
 him to make the darkness. Tlien he fol- 
 lowed me, and we lighted tobacco and 
 thought. Strickland did the thinking. I 
 smoked furiously because I was afraid. 
 
 " Imray is back," said Strickland. " The 
 question is, who killed Imray? Don't talk 
 — I have a notion of m.y own. When I 
 took this bungalow I took most of Imray's 
 servants. Imray was guileless and inofifen- 
 sive, wasn't he? " 
 
 I agreed, though the heap under the
 
 64 Mine Own People 
 
 cloth looked neither one thing nor thr 
 other. 
 
 " If I call the servants they will stanc 
 fast in a crowd and lie like Aryans. Wha* 
 do you suggest? " 
 
 " Call 'em in one by one," I said. 
 
 " They'll run away and give the news t<f 
 all their fellows," said Strickland. 
 
 *' We must segregate 'em. Do you sup- 
 pose your servant knows anything abou* 
 it?" 
 
 " He may, for aught I know, but I don'' 
 think it's likely. He has only been her' 
 two or three days." 
 
 ''What's your notion?" I asked. 
 
 " I can't quite tell. How the dicken*- 
 did the man get the wrong side of the cei* 
 ing-cloth?" 
 
 There was a heavy coughing outsidc- 
 Strickland's bedroom door. This showed 
 that Bahadur Khan, his body-servant, hac' 
 waked from sleep and wished to put Strick 
 land to bed. 
 
 " Come in," said Strickland. " It is 
 very warm night, isn't it? " 
 
 Bahadur Khan, a great, green-turbaned 
 six-foot Mohammedan, said that it was ? 
 very warm night, but that there was morr 
 rain pending, which, by his honor's favor 
 would bring relief to the country. 
 
 " It will be so, if God pleases," said 
 Strickland, tugging ofif his boots. "It i
 
 The Recrudescence of Imray 65 
 
 in my mind, Bahadur Khan, that I have 
 worked thee remorselessly for m.any days — • 
 ever since that time when 'aiou first earnest 
 into my service. What time was that? " 
 
 " Has the heaven-born forgotten? It 
 was when Imray Sahib went secretly to 
 Europe without warning given, and I — 
 even I — came into the honored service of 
 the protector of the poor. 
 
 " And Imray Sahib w^ent to Europe? " 
 
 " It is so said among the servants." 
 
 *' And thou wilt take service vrith him 
 when he returns? " 
 
 " Assuredly, sahib. He was a good mas- 
 ter and cherished his dependents." 
 
 "That is true. I am very tired, but I 
 can go buck-shooting to-morrow. Give 
 me the little rifie that I use for black buck;. 
 it is in the case yonder." 
 
 The man stooped over the case, handed 
 barrels, stock, and fore-end to Strickland^ 
 who fitted them together. Yawning dole- 
 fully, then he reached down to the gun- 
 case, took a solid drawn cartridge, and 
 slipped it into the breech of the .360 
 express. 
 
 " And Imray Sahib has gone to Europe 
 secretly? That is very strange, Bahadur 
 Khan, is it not? " 
 
 " What do I know of the ways of the 
 white man, heaven-born?" 
 
 '■ Very little, truly. But thou shalt know
 
 66 Mine Own People 
 
 more. It has reached me that Imray Sahib 
 has returned from his £o long journeyings, 
 and that even r nw he Ues in the next room, 
 waiting his sen. ant." 
 
 '* Sahib!" 
 
 The lamp-Hght shd along the barrels of 
 the rifle as they leveled themselves against 
 Bahadur Khan's broad breast. 
 
 "Go, then, and look!" said Strickland. 
 " Take a lamp. Thy master is tired, and 
 he waits. Go ! " 
 
 The man picked up a lamp and went into 
 the dining-room, Strickland following, and 
 almost pushing him with the muzzle of the 
 rifle. He locked for a moment at the 
 black depths behind the ceiling-cloth, at 
 the carcass of the mangled snake under 
 foot, and last, a gray glaze setting on his 
 face, at the thing under the table-cloth. 
 
 ** Hast thou seen? " said Strickland, after 
 a pause. 
 
 " I have seen. I am clay in the white 
 man's hands. What does the presence 
 do?" 
 
 " Hang thee within a month ! What 
 else?" 
 
 "For killing him? Nay, sahib, con- 
 sider. Walking among us, his servants, he 
 cast his eyes upon my child, who was four 
 years old. Him he bewitched, and in ten 
 davs he died of the fever. My child! " 
 
 " What said Imray Sahib? " ■
 
 The Recrudescence of Imray 67 
 
 " He said he was a handsome child, and 
 patted him on the head; wherefore my 
 child died. Wherefore I killed Imray 
 Sahib in the twilight, when he came back 
 from office and was sleeping. The heaven- 
 born knows all things. I am the servant 
 cf the heaven-born." 
 
 Strickland looked at me above the rifle, 
 and said, in the vernacular: "Thou art 
 witness to this saying. He has killed." 
 
 Bahadur Khan stood ashen gray in the 
 light of the one lamp. The need for justi- 
 fication came upon him very swiftly. 
 
 '' I am trapped," he said, '' but the of- 
 fense was that man's. He cast an evil eye 
 upon my child, and I killed and hid him. 
 Only such as are served by devils," he 
 glared at Tietjens, crouched stolidly before 
 him, " only such could know what I did." 
 
 " It was clever. But thou shouldst have 
 lashed him to the beam with a rope. Now, 
 thou thvself wilt hang by a rope. 
 Orderly!" 
 
 A drowsy policeman answered Strick- 
 land's call. He was followed by another, 
 and Tietjens sat still. 
 
 " Take him to the station," said Strick- 
 land. " There is a case toward." 
 
 " Do I hang, then? " said Bahadur Khan, 
 making no attempt to escape and keeping 
 his eyes on the ground. 
 
 " If the sun shines, or the water runs,
 
 68 Mine Own People 
 
 thou wilt hang," said Strickland. Bahadur 
 Khan stepped back one pace, quivered, and 
 stood still. The two policemen waited fur- 
 ther orders. 
 
 " Go! " said Strickland 
 
 "Nay; but I go very svviftly," said Ba- 
 hadur Khan. Look! I am even now a dead 
 man." 
 
 He lifted his foot, and to the little toe 
 there clung the head of the half-killed 
 snake, firm fixed in the agony of death. 
 
 *' I come of land-holding stock," said 
 Bahadur Khan, rocking where he stood. 
 " It were a disgrace for me to go to the 
 public scaffold, therefore I take this way. 
 Be it remembered that the sahib's shirts 
 are correctly enumerated, and that there is 
 an extra piece of soap in his wash-basin. 
 My child was bewitched, and I slew the 
 wizard. Why should you seek to slay me? 
 My honor is saved, and — and — I die." 
 
 At the end of an hour he died as they 
 die who are bitten by the little kariat, and 
 the policemen bore him and the thing 
 under the table-cloth to their appointed 
 places. They were needed to make clear 
 the disappearance of Imray. 
 
 " This," said Strickland, very calmly, as 
 he climbed into bed, " is called the nine- 
 teenth century. Did you hear what that 
 man said? "
 
 The Recrudescence of Imray 69 
 
 '* I heard," I answered. " Imray made 
 
 mistake." 
 
 ** Simply and solely through not knowing 
 the nature and coincidence of a little sea- 
 sonal fever. Bahadur Khan has been with 
 him for four years." 
 
 I shuddered. My own servant had been 
 iA^ith me for exactly that length of time. 
 When I went over to my own room I 
 lound him v/aiting, impassive as the copper 
 head on a penny, to pull off mv boots. 
 
 ''What has befallen Bahadur Khan?" 
 aid I. 
 
 *' He was bitten by a snake and died; 
 che rest the sahib knows," was the answer. 
 
 " And how much of the matter hast thou 
 known? " 
 
 " As much as might be gathered from 
 one coming in the twilight to seek satisfac- 
 don. Gently, sahib. Let me pull off those 
 boots." 
 
 I had just settled to the sleep of exhaus- 
 tion when I heard Strickland shouting from 
 his side of the house: 
 
 " Tier j ens has come back to her room! " 
 
 And so she had. The great deerhound 
 was couched on her own bedstead, on her 
 own blanket, and in the next room the idle, 
 jmpty ceiling-cloth wagged light-heartedly 
 us it flailed on the table.
 
 MOTI GUJ-MUTINEER 
 
 Once upon a time there was a coffee- 
 planter in India who washed to clear some 
 forest land for coffee-planting. When he 
 had cut down all the trees and burned the 
 underwood, the stumps still remained. 
 Dynamite is expensive and slow fire slow. 
 The happy medium for stump-clearing is 
 the lord of all beasts, who is the elephant. 
 He will either push the stump out of the 
 ground with his tusks, if he has any, or 
 drag it out with ropes. The planter, there- 
 fore, hired elephants by ones and twos and 
 threes, and fell to work. The very best of 
 all the elephants belonged to the very worst 
 of all the drivers or m.ahouts; and this 
 superior beast's name was Moti Guj. He 
 v.^as the absolute property of his mahout, 
 which w^ould never have been the case un- 
 der native rule: for Moti Guj was a creature 
 to be desired by kings, and his name, being 
 translated, meant the Pearl Elephant. Be- 
 cause the British government was in the 
 land, Deesa, the mahout, enjoyed his prop- 
 70
 
 Moti Guj — Mutineer J\ 
 
 erty undisturbed. He was dissipated. 
 When he had made much money through 
 the strength of his elephant, he would get 
 extremely drunk and give Moti Guj a beat- 
 ing with a tent-peg over the tender nails of 
 the forefeet. Moti Guj never trampled the 
 life out of Deesa on these occasions, for he 
 knew that after the beating was over, Deesa 
 would embrace his trunk and weep and call 
 him his love and his life and the liver of 
 his soul, and give him some liquor. Moti 
 Guj was very fond of liquor — arrack for 
 choice, though he would drink palm-tree 
 toddy if nothing better offered. Then 
 Deesa would go to sleep between Moti 
 Guj's forefeet, and as Deesa generally chose 
 the middle of the public road, and as Moti 
 Guj mounted guard over him, and would 
 not permit horse, foot, or cart to pass by, 
 traffic was congested till Deesa saw fit to 
 wake up. 
 
 There was no sleeping in the day-time on 
 the planter's clearing: the wages were too 
 high to risk. Deesa sat on Moti Guj's 
 neck and gave him orders, while Moti Guj 
 rooted up the stumps — for he owned a 
 magnificent pair of tusks; or pulled at the 
 end of a rope — for he had a m.agnificent 
 pair of shoulders — while Deesa kicked 
 him behind the ears and said he was the 
 king of elephants. At evening time Moti 
 Guj would wash down his three hundred
 
 72 Mine Own People 
 
 pounds' weight of green food with a quar*" 
 of arrack, and Deesa would take a share, 
 and sing songs between Moti Guj's ltg» 
 till it was time to go to bed. Once a week 
 Deesa led Moti Guj down to the river, and 
 Moti Guj lay on his side luxuriously in the 
 shallows, while Deesa went over him with 
 a coir swab and a brick. Moti Guj never 
 mistook the pounding blow of the latter for 
 the smack of the former that warned hirr» 
 to get up and turn over on the other side 
 Then Deesa would look at his feet and ex- 
 amine his eyes, and turn up the fringes o^ 
 his mighty ears in case of sores or budding 
 ophthalmia. After inspection the two 
 would " come up with a song from the sea;' 
 Moti Guj, all black and shining, waving z 
 torn tree branch twelve feet long in hir 
 trunk, and Deesa knotting up his own lon^' 
 wet hair. 
 
 It was a peaceful, well paid life till Dees - 
 felt the return of the desire to drink deep 
 He wished for an orgy. The little draughts 
 that led nowhere were taking the manhood 
 out of him. 
 
 He went to the planter, and " Mr 
 mother's dead," said he, weeping. 
 
 " She died on the last plantation two 
 months ago, and she died once before that 
 when you were working for me last year/' 
 said the planter, who knew something of 
 the ways of nativedom.
 
 Moti Guj — Mutineer 73 
 
 " Then it's my aunt, and she was just the 
 same as a mother to me," said Deesa, weep- 
 ing more than ever. " She has left eigh- 
 teen small children entirely without bread, 
 and it is I who must fill their little stom- 
 achs," said Deesa, beating his head on the 
 floor. 
 
 '* Who brought you the news? " said the 
 planter. 
 
 " The post," said Deesa. 
 
 *' There hasn't been a post here for the 
 past week. Get back to your lines!" 
 
 " A devastating sickness has fallen on 
 my village, and all my wives are dying," 
 yelled Deesa, really in tears this time. 
 
 " Call Chihun, who comes from Deesa's 
 village," said the planter. " Chihun, has 
 this man got a wife? " 
 
 " He? " said _ Chihun. " No. Not^ a 
 woman of our village would look at him. 
 They'd sooner marry the elephant." 
 
 Chihun snorted. Deesa wept and bel- 
 lowed. 
 
 '* You will get into a difficulty in a min- 
 ute," said the planter. " Go back to your 
 work! " 
 
 '' Now I will speak Heaven's truth,'* 
 gulped Deesa, with an inspiration. *' I 
 haven't been drunk for two months. I de- 
 sire to depart in order to ge^ properly 
 drunk afar off and distant from this heav-
 
 74 Mine Own People 
 
 enly plantation. Thus I shall cause no 
 trouble." 
 
 A flickering smile crossed the planter's 
 face. " Deesa," said he, '' you've spoken 
 the truth, and Fd give you leave on the 
 spot if anything could be done with Moti 
 Guj while you're away. You know that he 
 will only obey your orders." 
 
 *' May the light of the heavens live forty 
 thousand years. I shall be absent but ten 
 little days. After that, upon my faith and 
 honor and soul, I return. As to the incon- 
 siderable interval, have I the gracious per- 
 mission of the heaven-born to call up Moti 
 Guj?" 
 
 Permission was granted, and in answer 
 to Deesa's shrill yell, the mighty tusker 
 swung out of the shade of a clump of trees 
 where he had been squirting dust over him- 
 self till his master should return, 
 
 *' Light of my heart, protector of the 
 drunken, mountain of might, give ear! " 
 said Deesa, standing in front of him^. 
 
 Moti Guj gave ear, and saluted with his 
 trunk. " I am going away," said Deesa. 
 
 Moti Guj's eyes twinkled. He Hked 
 jaunts as well as his master. One could 
 snatch all manner of nice things from the 
 road-side then. 
 
 " But you, you fussy old pig, must stay 
 behind and work." 
 
 The twinkle died out as Moti Guj tried
 
 Moti Guj — Mutineer 75 
 
 to look delighted. He hated stump-haul- 
 ing on the plantation. It hurt his teeth. 
 
 " I shall be gone for ten days, oh, delec- 
 table one ! Hold up your near forefoot and 
 I'll impress the fact upon it, warty toad of 
 a dried mud-puddle." Deesa took a tent- 
 peg and banged Moti Guj ten times on the 
 nails, Moti Guj grunted and shuffled from 
 foot to foot. 
 
 " Ten days," said Deesa, " you will work 
 and haul and root the trees as Chihun here 
 shall order you. Take up Chihun and set 
 him on your neck! " Moti Guj curled the 
 tip of his trunk, Chihun put his foot there, 
 and was swung on to the neck. Deesa 
 handed Chihun the heavy ankiis — the iron 
 elephant goad. 
 
 Chihun thumped Moti Guj's bald head 
 as a paver thumps a curbstone. 
 
 Moti Guj trumpeted. 
 
 "Be still, hog of the backwoods! Chi- 
 hun's your mahout for ten days. And 
 now bid m.e good-bye, beast after mine own 
 heart. Oh, miy lord, my king! Jewel of 
 all created elephants, lily of the herd, pre- 
 serve your honored health; be virtuous. 
 Adieu!" 
 
 Moti Guj lapped his trunk round Deesa 
 and swung him into the air twice. That 
 was his way of bidding him good-bye. 
 
 " He'll work now," said Deesa to the 
 planter. '* Have I leave to go? "
 
 76 Mine Own People 
 
 The planter nodded, and Deesa dived 
 into the woods. Moti Guj went back to 
 haul stumps. 
 
 Chihun was very kind to him, but he felt 
 unhappy and forlorn for all that. Chihun 
 gave him a ball of spices, and tickled him 
 under the chin, and Chihun's little baby 
 cooed to him after work was over, and 
 Chihun's wife called him a darling; but 
 Moti Guj was a bachelor by instinct, as 
 Deesa was. He did not understand the 
 domestic emotions. He wanted the light 
 of his universe back again — the drink and 
 the drunken slumber, the savage beatings 
 and the savage caresses. 
 
 None the less he worked well, and the 
 planter wondered. Deesa had wandered 
 along the roads till he met a marriage pro- 
 cession of his own caste, and, drinking, 
 dancing, and tippling, had drifted with it 
 past all knowledge of the lapse of time. 
 
 The morning of the eleventh day dawned, 
 and there returned no Deesa. Moti Guj 
 was loosed from his ropes for the daily 
 stint. He swung clear, looked round, 
 shrugged his shoulders, and began to walk 
 away, as one having business elsewhere. 
 
 ''Hi! ho! Come back you!" shouted 
 Chihun. " Come back and put me on your 
 neck, misborn mountain! Return, splen- 
 dor of the hill-sides! Adornment of all
 
 Moti Guj— -Mutineer y^ 
 
 .ndia, heave to, or I'll bang every toe off 
 your fat forefoot ! " 
 
 Moti Guj gurgled gently, but did not 
 jbey. Chihun ran after him with a rope 
 ^nd caught him up Moti Guj put his ears 
 torward, and Chihun knew what that 
 .neant, though he tried to carry it ofif with 
 nigh words. 
 
 '* None of your nonsense with me," said 
 tie. " To your pickets, devil-son! " 
 
 " Hrrump! " said Moti Guj, and that was 
 aW — that and the forebent ears. 
 
 Moti Guj put his hands in his pockets, 
 chewed a branch for a toothpick, and 
 strolled about the clearing, making fun of 
 che other elephants who had just set to 
 work. 
 
 Chihun reported the state of affairs to 
 ihe planter, who came out with a dog-whip 
 and cracked it furiously, Moti Guj paid 
 the white man the compliment of charging 
 nim nearly a quarter of a mile across the 
 jlearing and " Hrrumphing " him into his 
 /eranda. Then he stood outside the house, 
 chuckling to himself and shaking all over 
 A^ith the fun of it, as an elephant will. 
 
 ** We'll thrash him," said the planter. 
 
 ' He shall have the finest thrashing ever 
 
 -elephant received. Give Kala Nag and 
 
 Nazin twelve foot of chain apiece, and tell 
 
 chem to lay on twenty." 
 
 Kala Nag — which means Black Snake
 
 78 Mine Own People 
 
 — and Nazim were two of the biggest ele- 
 phants in the Hnes, and one of their duties 
 was to administer the graver punishment, 
 since no man can beat an elephant properly. 
 
 They took the whipping-chains and rat- 
 tled them in their trunks as they sidled up 
 to Moti Guj meaning to hustle him between 
 them. Moti Guj had never, in all his life of 
 thirty-nine years, been whipped, and he did 
 not intend to begin a new experience. So 
 he waited, waving his head from right to 
 left, and measuring the precise spot in Kala 
 Nag's fat side where a blunt tusk could sink 
 deepest. Kala Nag had no tusks; the 
 chain was his badge of authority; but for 
 all that, he swung wide of Moti Guj at the 
 last minute, and tried to appear as if he 
 had brought the chain out for amusement. 
 Nazim turned round and went home early. 
 He did not feel fighting fit that morning, 
 and so Moti Guj was left standing alone 
 with his ears cocked. 
 
 That decided the planter to argue no 
 more, and Moti Guj rolled back to his 
 amateur inspection of the clearing. An 
 elephant who will not work and is not tied 
 up is about as manageable as an eighty- 
 one-ton gun loose in a heavy seaway. He 
 slapped old friends on the back and asked 
 them if the stumps were coming away 
 easily; he talked nonsense concerning labor 
 and the inalienable rights of elephants to
 
 Mod Guj— Mutineer 79 
 
 a long " nooning; " and, wandering to and 
 fro, he thoroughly demoraHzed the garden 
 till sundown, when he returned to his picket 
 for food. 
 
 " If you won't work, you sha'n't eat," 
 said Chihun, angrily. '' You're a wild ele- 
 phant, and no educated animal at all. Go 
 back to your jungle." 
 
 Chihun's little brown baby was rolling on 
 the floor of the hut, and stretching out its 
 fat arms to the huge shadow in the door- 
 way. Moti Guj knew well that it was the 
 dearest thing on earth to Chihun. He 
 swung out his trunk with a fascinating 
 crook at the end, and the brown baby threw 
 itself, shouting, upon it. Moti Guj made 
 fast and pulled up till the brown baby was 
 crowing in the air twelve feet above his 
 father's head. 
 
 "Great Lord!" said Chihun. "Flour 
 cakes of the best, twelve in number, two 
 feet across and soaked in rum, shall be 
 yours on the instant, and two hundred 
 pounds' weight of fresh-cut young sugar- 
 cane therewith. Deign only to put down 
 safely that insignificant brat who is my 
 heart and my life to me! " 
 
 Moti Guj tucked the brown baby com- 
 fortably between his forefeet, that could 
 have knocked into toothpicks all Chihun's 
 hut, and waited for his food. He eat it, 
 and the brown baby crawled away. Moti
 
 8o Mine Own People 
 
 Guj dozed and thought of Deesa. One of 
 many mysteries connected with the ele- 
 phant is that his huge body needs less sleep 
 than anything else that lives. Four or five 
 hours in the night suffice — two just before 
 midnight, lying down on one side; two just 
 after one o'clock, lying down on the other. 
 The rest of the silent hours are filled with 
 eating and fidgeting, and long grumbling 
 soliloquies. 
 
 At midnight, therefore, Aloti Guj strode 
 out of his pickets, for a thought had come 
 to him that Deesa might be lying drunk 
 somewhere in the dark forest with none to 
 look after him. So all that night he chased 
 through the undergrowth, blowing and 
 trumpeting and shaking his ears. He went 
 down to the river and blared across the 
 shallows where Deesa used to wash him, 
 but there was no answer. He could not 
 find Deesa, but he disturbed all the other 
 elephants in the lines, and nearly fright- 
 ened to death some gypsies in the woods. 
 
 At dawn Deesa returned to the planta- 
 tion. He had been very drunk indeed, and 
 he expected to get into trouble for outstay- 
 ing his leave. He drew a long breath when 
 he saw that the bungalow and the planta- 
 tion were still uninjured, for he knew some- 
 thing of ]\Ioti Guj's temper, and reported 
 himself with many lies and salaams. Moti 
 Guj had gone to his pickets for breakfast
 
 Moti Guj — Mutineei 8 1 
 
 The night exercise had made him hungry. 
 
 " Call up your beast," said the planter; 
 and Deesa shouted in the mysterious ele- 
 phant language that some mahouts believe 
 came from China at the birth of the world, 
 when elephants and not men wei 2 masters. 
 Moti Guj heard and came. Elephants do 
 not gallop. They move from places at 
 varying rates of speed. If an elephant 
 wished to catch an express train he could 
 not gallop, but he could catch the train. 
 So Moti Guj was at the planter's door 
 almost before Chihun noticed that he had 
 left his pickets. He fell into Deesa's arms 
 trumpeting with joy, and the man and 
 beast wept and slobbered over each other, 
 and handled each other from head to heel 
 to see that no harm had befallen. 
 
 " Now we will get to work," said Deesa. 
 ** Lift me up, my son and my joy! " 
 
 Moti Guj swung him up, and the two 
 went to the coffee-clearing to look for diffi- 
 cult stumps. 
 
 The planter was too astonished to be 
 very angry.
 
 THE MUTINY OF THE 
 MAVERICKS 
 
 When three obscure gentlemen in San 
 Francisco argued on insufficient premises, 
 they condemned a fellow-creature to a most 
 unpleasant death in a far country which 
 had nothing whatever to do with the 
 United States. They foregathered at the 
 top of a tenement-house in Tehama Street, 
 an unsavory quarter of the city, and there 
 calling for certain drinks, they conspired 
 because they were conspirators by trade, 
 officially known as the Third Three of the 
 I. A. A. — an institution for the propaga- 
 tion of pure light, not to be confounded 
 with any others, though it is affiliated to 
 many. The Second Three live in Montreal 
 and work among the poor there; the First 
 Three have their home in New York, not 
 far from Castle Garden, and write regularly 
 once a week to a small house near one of 
 the big hotels at Boulogne. What happens 
 after that, a particular section of Scotland 
 82
 
 Mutiny of the Mavericks 8 3 
 
 Yards knows too well and laughs at. A 
 conspirator detests ridicule. More men 
 have been stabbed with Lucrezia Borgia 
 daggers and dropped into the Thames for 
 laughing at head centers and triangles than 
 for betraying secrets; for this is human 
 nature. 
 
 The Third Three conspired over whisky 
 cocktails and a clean sheet of note-paper 
 against the British Empire and all that lay 
 therein. This work is very like what men 
 without discernment call politics before a 
 general election. You pick out and discuss 
 in the company of congenial friends all the 
 weak points in your opponents' organiza- 
 tion, and unconsciously dwell upon and 
 exaggerate all their mishaps, till it seems 
 to you a miracle that the party holds to- 
 gether for an hour. 
 
 "Our principle is not so much active 
 demonstration — that we leave to others — 
 as passive embarrassment to weaken and 
 unnerve," said the first man. " Wherever 
 an organization is crippled, wherever a con- 
 fusion is thrown into any branch of any 
 department, we gain a step for those who 
 take on the work; we are but the forerun- 
 ners." He was a German enthusiast, and 
 editor of a newspaper, from whose leading 
 articles he quoted frequently. 
 
 " That cursed empire makes so many 
 blunders of her own that unless w^e doubled
 
 84 Mine Own People 
 
 the year's average I guess it wouldn't strike 
 her anything special had occurred," said 
 the second man. " Are you prepared to 
 say that all our resources are equal to blow- 
 ing off the muzzle of a hundred-ton gun or 
 spiking a ten-thousand-ton ship on a plain 
 rock in clear daylight? They can beat us 
 at our game. Better join hands with the 
 practical branches; we're in funds now. 
 Try and direct a scare in a crowded street. 
 They value their greasy hides." He was 
 the drag upon the wheel, and an American- 
 ized Irishman of the second generation, de- 
 spising his own race and hating the other. 
 He had learned caution. 
 
 The third man drank his cocktail and 
 spoke no word. He was the strategist, but 
 unfortunately his knowledge of life was lim- 
 ited. He picked a letter from his breast- 
 pocket and threw it across the table. That 
 epistle to the heathen contained some very 
 concise directions from the First Three in 
 New York. It said: 
 
 " The boom in black iron has already 
 affected the eastern markets, where our 
 agents have been forcing down the Eng- 
 lish-held stock among the smaller buyers 
 who watch the turn of shares. Any imme- 
 diate operations, such as western bears, 
 would increase their willingness to unload. 
 This, however, can not be expected till 
 they see clearly that foreign ironmasters
 
 Mutiny of the Mavericks 85 
 
 are willing to co-operate. ]\Iulcahy should 
 be dispatched to feel the pulse of the mar- 
 liet, and act accordingly. Mavericks are 
 at present the best for our purpose. — P. 
 D.Q." 
 
 As a message referring to an iron crisis 
 in Pennsylvania it was interesting, if not 
 lucid. As a new departure in organized 
 attack on an outlying English dependency, 
 it was more than interesting. 
 
 The first man read it through, and mur- 
 mured: 
 
 "Already? Surely they are in too great 
 a hurry. All that Dhulip Singh could do 
 in India he has done, down to the distribu- 
 tion of his photographs among the peas- 
 antry. Ho! Ho! The Paris firm ar- 
 ranged that, and he has no substantial 
 money backing from the Other Power. 
 Even our agents in India know he hasn't. 
 What is the use of our organization wasting 
 men on work that is already done? Of 
 course, the Irish regiments in India are 
 half mutinous as they stand." 
 
 This shows how near a lie may come to 
 the truth. An Irish regiment, for just so 
 long as it stands still, is generally a hard 
 handful to control, being reckless and 
 rough. When, however, it is moved in the 
 direction of musketry-fire, it becomes 
 strangely and unpatriotically content with 
 its lot. It has even been heard to cheer
 
 86 Mine Own People 
 
 the queen with enthusiasm on these occa* 
 sions. 
 
 But the notion of tampering with the 
 army was, from the point of view of 
 Tehama Street, an altogether sound one. 
 There is no shadow of stabihty in the pol- 
 icy of an English government, and the 
 most sacred oaths of England would, even 
 if embossed on vellum, find very few buy- 
 ers among colonies and dependencies that 
 have suffered from vain beliefs. But there 
 remains to England always her army. 
 That can not change, except in the matter 
 of uniform and equipment. The officers 
 may write to the papers demanding the 
 heads of the Horse Guards in default of 
 cleaner redress for grievances; the men 
 may break loose across a country town, 
 and seriously startle the publicans, but 
 neither officers nor men have it in their 
 composition to mutiny after the Conti- 
 nental manner. The English people, when 
 they trouble to think about the army at all, 
 are, and with justice, absolutely assured 
 that it is absolutely trustworthy. Imagine 
 for a moment their emotions on realizing 
 that such and such a regiment was in open 
 revolt from causes directly due to Eng- 
 land's management of Ireland, They 
 would probably send the regiment to the 
 polls forthwith, and examine their own con- 
 sciences as to their duty to Erin, but thej
 
 Mutiny of the Mavericks 87 
 
 would never be easy any more. And it 
 was this vague, unhappy mistrust that the 
 I. A. A. was laboring to produce. 
 
 " Sheer waste of breath," said the second 
 man, after a pause in the council. " I don't 
 see the use of tampering with their fool- 
 army, but it has been tried before, and we 
 must try it again. It looks well in the 
 reports. If we send one man from here, 
 you may bet your life that other men are 
 going too. Order up Mulcahy." 
 
 They ordered him up — a slim, slight, 
 dark-haired young man, devoured with that 
 blind, rancorous hatred of England that 
 only reaches its full growth across the At- 
 lantic. He had sucked it from his mother's 
 breast in the little cabin at the back of the 
 northern avenues of New York; he had 
 been taught his rights and his wrongs, in 
 German and Irish, on the canal fronts of 
 Chicago; and San Francisco held men who 
 told him strange and awful things of the 
 great blind power over the seas. Once, 
 when business took him across the Atlan- 
 tic, he had served In an English regiment, 
 and being insubordinate, had suffered ex- 
 tremely. He drew all his ideas of England 
 that were not bred by the cheaper patriotic 
 print, from one iron-fisted colonel and an 
 unbending adjutant. He would go to the 
 mines if need be to teach his gospel. And 
 he went as his instructions advised, p. d, q.
 
 88 Mine Own People 
 
 — which means "with speed" — to intro- 
 duce embarrassment into an Irish regi- 
 ment, " already half mutinous, quartered 
 among Sikh peasantry, all wearing minia- 
 tures of His Highness Dhulip Singh, Ma- 
 haraja of the Punjab, next their hearts, and 
 all eagerly expecting his arrival." Other 
 information equally valuable was given him 
 by his masters. He was to be cautious, 
 but never to grudge expense in winning the 
 hearts of the men in the regiment. His 
 mother in New York would supply funds, 
 and he was to write to her once a month. 
 Life is pleasant for a man who has a mother 
 in Xew York to send him £200 a year over 
 and above his regimental pay. 
 
 In process of time, thanks to his intimate 
 knowledge of drill and musketry exercise, 
 the excellent ]\Iulcahy, wearing the cor- 
 poral's stripe, went out in a troop-ship and 
 joined Her ^Majesty's Royal Loyal Mus- 
 keteers, commonly known as the " Mav- 
 ericks," because they were masterless and 
 unbranded cattle — sons of small farmers 
 in County Clare, shoeless vagabonds of 
 Kerry, herders of Ballyvegan, much 
 wanted " moonlighters " from the bare 
 rainy headlands of the south coast, officered 
 by O'Mores, Bradys, Hills, Kilreas, and 
 the like. Never, to outward seeming, was 
 there more promising material to work on. 
 T-he First Three had chosen their regiment
 
 Mutiny of the Mavericks 89 
 
 well. It feared nothing that moved or 
 talked save the colonel and the regimental 
 Roman Catholic chaplain, the fat Father 
 Dennis, who held the keys of heaven and 
 hell, and glared like an angry bull when 
 he desired to be convincing. Him also 
 it loved because on occasions of stress he 
 w^as wont to tuck up his cassock and charge 
 Avith the rest into the merriest of the fray, 
 vrhere he always found, good man, that 
 the saints sent him a revolver when there 
 was a fallen private to be protected or — 
 but this came as an after-thought — his 
 own gray head to be guarded. 
 
 Cautiously as he had been instructed, ten- 
 derly and with much beer, Mulcahy opened 
 his projects to such as he deemed fittest to 
 listen. And these were, one and all, of that 
 quaint, crooked, sweet, profoundly irre- 
 sponsible, and profoundly lovable race that 
 fight like fiends, argue like children, reason 
 like women, obey like men, and jest like 
 their own goblins of the wrath through re- 
 bellion, loyalty, want, woe, or war. The 
 underground v/ork of a conspiracy is al- 
 ways dull, and very much the same the 
 w^orld over. At the end of six months — ■ 
 the seed always falling on good ground — 
 Mulcahy spoke almost explicitly, hinting 
 darkly in the approved fashion at dread 
 powers behind him, and advising nothing 
 more nor less than mutiny. Were they not
 
 go Mine Ov/n People 
 
 dogs, evilly treated? had they not all their 
 own and the natural revenges to satisfy? 
 Who in these days could do aught to nine 
 hundred men in rebellion? who, again, 
 could stay them if they broke for the sea, 
 licking up on their way other regiments 
 only too anxious to join? And afterward 
 . . . here followed windy promises of 
 gold and preferment, ofhce and honor, ever 
 dear to a certain type of Irishman. 
 
 As he finished his speech, in the dusk 
 of a twilight, to his chosen associates, there 
 was a sound of a rapidly unslung belt be- 
 hind him. The arm of one Dan Grady 
 flew out in the gloom and arrested some- 
 thing. Then said Dan: 
 
 " Mulcahy, you're a great man, an' you 
 do credit to whoever sent you. Walk about 
 a bit while we think of it." Mulcahy de- 
 parted elated. He knew his words would 
 sink deep. 
 
 " Why the triple-dashed asterisks did ye 
 not let me curl the tripes out of him?" 
 grunted a voice. 
 
 " Because I'm not a fat-headed fool. 
 Boys, 'tis what he's been driving at these 
 six months — our superior corpril, with 
 his education, and his copies of the Irish 
 papers, and his everlasting beer. He's 
 been sent for the purpose, and that's where 
 the money comes from. Can ye not see? 
 That man's a gold-mine, which Horse
 
 Mutiny of the Mavericks 91 
 
 Egan here would have destroyed with a 
 belt-buckle. It would be throwing away 
 the gifts of Providence not to fall in with 
 his little plans. Of course we'll mutiny till 
 all's dry. Shoot the colonel on the parade- 
 ground, massacre the company officers, 
 ransack the arsenal, and then — boys, did 
 he tell you what next? He told me the 
 other night, when he was beginning to talk 
 wild. Then we're to join with the niggers, 
 and look for help from Dhulip Singh and 
 the Russians ! " 
 
 "And spoil the best campaign that ever 
 was this side of hell ! Danny, I'd have lost 
 the beer to ha' given him the belting he 
 requires." 
 
 " Oh, let him go this awhile, man! He's 
 got no — no constructiveness ; but that's 
 the egg-meat of his plan, and you must 
 understand that I'm in with it, an' so are 
 you. We'll want oceans of beer to con- 
 vince us — firmaments full. We'll give him 
 talk for his money, and one by one all the 
 boys'll come in, and he'll have a nest of 
 nine hundred mutineers to squat in an' give 
 drink to." 
 
 " What makes me killing mad is his 
 wanting us to do v/hat the niggers did 
 thirty years gone. That an' his pig's cheek 
 in saying that other regiments would come 
 along," said a Kerry man.
 
 92 Mine Own People 
 
 " That's not so bad as hintin' we should 
 loose off at the colonel. ' 
 
 "Colonel be sugared! I'd as soon as 
 not put a shot through his helmet, to see 
 him jump and clutch his old horse's head. 
 But Mulcahy talks o' shootin' our comp'ny 
 orf'cers accidental." 
 
 "He said that, did he?" said Horse 
 Egan. 
 
 " Somethin' like that, anyways. Can't 
 ye fancy ould Barber Brady wid a bullet 
 in his lungs, coughin' like a sick monkey 
 an' sayin': ' Bhoys, I do not mind your 
 gettin' dhrunk, but you must hould your 
 liquor like men. The man that shot me 
 is dhrunk. I'll suspend investigations for 
 six hours, while I get this bullet cut out, 
 and then ' " 
 
 " An' then," continued Horse Egan, for 
 the peppery major's peculiarities of speech 
 and manner were as well known as his 
 tanned face — "an' then, ye dissolute, half- 
 baked, putty-faced scum o' Connemara, if 
 I find a man so much as lookin' confused, 
 bedad I'll coort-martial the whole com- 
 pany. A man that can't get over his liquor 
 in six hours is not fit to belong to the 
 Mavericks ! " 
 
 A shout of laughter bore witness to the 
 truth of the sketch. 
 
 " It's pretty to think of," said the Kerry 
 man slov/ly. " Mulcahy would have us do
 
 Mutiny of the Mavericks 93 
 
 all the devilment, and get clear himself, 
 someways. He wudn't be takin' all this 
 fool's throuble in shpoilin' the reputation 
 of the regiment." 
 
 " Reputation of your grandmother's 
 pig! " said Dan. 
 
 " Well, an' he had a good reputation, too; 
 so it's all right. Mulcahy must see his way 
 clear out behind him, or he'd not ha' come 
 so far, talkin' powers of darkness." 
 
 " Did you hear anything of a regimental 
 court-martial among the Black Boneens, 
 these days? Half a company of 'em took 
 one of the new draft an' hanged him by 
 his arms with a tent-rope from a third-story 
 veranda. They gave no reason for so do- 
 in/, but he was half head. I'm thinking 
 that the Boneens are short-sighted. It was 
 a friend of Mulcahy's, or a man in the same 
 trade. They'd a deal better ha' taken his 
 beer," returned Dan, reflectively. 
 
 " Better still ha' handed him up to the 
 colonel," said Horse Egan, " onless — But 
 sure the news wud be all over the counthry 
 an' give the reg'ment a bad name." 
 
 " An' there'd be no reward for that man 
 — but he went about talkin'," said the 
 Kerry man, artlessly. 
 
 " You speak by your breed," said Dan, 
 with a laugh. " There was never a Kerry 
 man yet that wudn't sell his brother for a
 
 94 Mins Own People 
 
 pipe o' tobacco an' a pat on the back from 
 a policeman." 
 
 " Thank God I'm not a bloomin' Orange- 
 man," was the answer. 
 
 " No, nor never will be," said Dan. 
 " They breed viai in Ulster. Would you 
 like to thry the taste of one?" 
 
 The Kerry man looked and longed, but 
 forebore. The odds of battle were too 
 great. 
 
 " Then you'll not even give Alulcahy a 
 — a strike for his money," said the voice 
 of Horse Egan, who regarded what he 
 called '' trouble " of any kind as the pin- 
 nacle of felicity. 
 
 Dan answered not at all, but crept on 
 tiptoe, with large strides, to the mess-room, 
 the men following. The room was empty. 
 In a corner, cased like the King of Da- 
 homey's state umbrella, stood the regi- 
 mental colors. Dan lifted them tenderly, 
 and unrolled in the light of the candles the 
 record of the Mavericks — tattered, worn, 
 and hacked. The white satin was darkened 
 everywhere with big brown stains, the gold 
 threads on the crowned harp were frayed 
 and discolored, and the red bull, the totem 
 of the JMavericks, was coffee-hued. The 
 stiff, embroidered folds, whose price is 
 human life, rustled down slowly. The ' 
 ^iavericks keep their colors long and 
 guard them very sacredly.
 
 Mudny of the Mavericks 95 
 
 "Vittoria, Salamanca, Toulouse, Vv^ater- 
 2oo, Moodkee, Ferozshah, and Sobraon — 
 that was fought close next door here, 
 against the very beggars he wants us to 
 join. Inkermann, the Alma, Sebastopol! 
 What are those little businesses compared 
 to the campaigns of General Mulcahy? 
 The mut'ny, think o' that; the mut'ny an' 
 some dirty little matters in Afghanistan, 
 and for that an' these and those " — Dan 
 pointed to the names of glorious battles — 
 " that Yankee man with the partin' in his 
 hair comes and says as easy as ' have a 
 drink' . . . Holy jMoses! there's the 
 captain ! " 
 
 But it was the mess-sergeant who came 
 in just as the men clattered out, and found 
 the colors uncased. 
 
 From that day dated the mutiny of the 
 Mavericks, to the joy of Mulcahy and the 
 pride of his mother in New York — the 
 good lady who sent the money for the 
 beer. Never, as far as words went, was 
 such a mutiny. The conspirators, led by 
 Dan Grady and Horse Egan, poured in 
 daily. They were sound men, men to be 
 trusted, and they all wanted blood; but first 
 they must have beer. They cursed the 
 queen, they mourned over Ireland, they 
 suggested hideous plunder of the Indian 
 country-side, and then, alas! some of the 
 younger men would go forth and wallow
 
 96 Mine Own People 
 
 on the ground in spasms of unholy laugh- 
 ter. The genius of the Irish for conspira- 
 cies is remarkable. None the less, they 
 would swear no oaths but those of their 
 own making, which were rare and curious, 
 and they were always at pains to impress 
 ]^Julcahy with the risks they ran. Natur- 
 ally the fiood of beer wrought demoraliza- 
 tion. But ]\Iulcahy confused the causes of 
 things, and when a pot-valiant Maverick 
 smote a servant on the nose or called his 
 commanding officer a bald-headed old lard- 
 bladder, and even worse names, he fancied 
 that rebellion and not liquor was at the 
 bottom of the outbreak. Other gentlemen 
 who have concerned themselves in larger 
 conspiracies have made the same error. 
 
 The hot season, in which they protested 
 no man could rebel, came to an end, and 
 IMulcahy suggested a visible return for his 
 teachings. As to the actual upshot of the 
 mutiny he cared nothing. It would be 
 enough if the English, infatuatedly trust- 
 ing to the integrity of their army, 
 should be startled with news of an 
 Irish regiment revolting from politi- 
 cal considerations. His persistent de- 
 mands would have ended, at Dan*s instiga- 
 tion, in a regimental belting which in all 
 probability would have killed him and cut 
 off the supply of beer, had not he been 
 sent on special duty some fifty miles away
 
 Mutiny of the Mavericks 97 
 
 from the cantonment to cool his heels in 
 a mud fort and dismount obsolete artillery. 
 Then the colonel of the Mavericks, read- 
 ing his newspaper diligently and scenting 
 frontier trouble from afar, posted to the 
 army headquarters and pleaded with the 
 commander-in-chief for certain privileges, 
 to be granted under certain contingencies; 
 which contingencies came about only a 
 week later when the annual little war on 
 the border developed itself and the colonel 
 returned to carry the good news to the 
 ]\Iavericks. He held the promise of the 
 chief for active service, and the men must 
 get ready. 
 
 On the evening of the same day, Mul- 
 cahy, an unconsidered corporal — yet great 
 in conspiracy — returned to cantonments, 
 and heard sounds of strife and bowlings 
 from afar oflf. The mutiny had broken out, 
 and the barracks of the Mavericks were one 
 w^hitevvashed pandemonium. A private 
 tearing through the barrack square gasped 
 in his ear: "Service! Active service! 
 It's a burnin' shame." Oh, joy, the Mav- 
 ericks had risen on the eve of battle! 
 They would not — noble and loyal sons of 
 Ireland! — serve the queen longer. The 
 news would flash through the country-side 
 and over to England, and he — Mulcahy — 
 the trusted of the Third Three, had brought 
 about the crash. The private stood in the
 
 98 Mine Own People 
 
 middle of the square and cursed colonel, 
 regiment, officers, and doctor, particularly 
 the doctor, by his gods. An orderly of the 
 native cavalry regiment clattered through 
 the mob of soldiers. He was half lifted, 
 half dragged from his horse, beaten on the 
 back with mighty hand-claps till his eyes 
 watered, and called all manner of endear- 
 ing names. Yes, the Mavericks had frater- 
 nized with the native troops. Who, then, 
 was the agent among the latter that had 
 blindly wrought with Mulcahy so well? 
 
 An officer slunk, almost ran, from the 
 mess to a barrack. He was mobbed by the 
 infuriated soldiery, who closed round but 
 did not kill him, for he fought his way to 
 shelter, flying for his life. Mulcahy could 
 have wept with pure joy and thankfulness. 
 The very prisoners in the guard-room were 
 shaking the bars of their cells and howling 
 like wild beasts, and from every barrack 
 poured the booming as of a big war-drum. 
 
 Mulcahy hastened to his own barrack. 
 He could hardly hear himself speak. 
 Eighty men were pounding with fist and 
 heel the tables and trestles — eighty men 
 flushed with mutiny, stripped to their shirt- 
 sleeves, their knapsacks half-packed for the 
 march to the sea, made the two-inch boards 
 thunder again as they chanted to a tune 
 that Mulcahy knew well, the Sacred War 
 Song of the Mavericks:
 
 Mutiny of the Mavericks 99 
 
 " Listen in the north, my boj'-s, there's trouble on 
 
 the wind; 
 Tramp o' Cossacks hoofs in front, gray great-coats 
 
 behind, 
 Trouble on the frontier of a most amazin' kind. 
 Trouble on the water o' the Oxus! " 
 
 Then as a table broke under the furious 
 accompaniment : 
 
 *' Hurrah 1 hurrah! its north by west we go; 
 Hurrah! hurrah! the chance we wanted so; 
 Let 'em hear the chorus from Umballa to Moscow, 
 As we go marching to the Kremlin.'' 
 
 " Mother of all the saints in bliss and all 
 the devils in cinders, where's my fine new 
 sock v/idout the heel?" howled Horse 
 Egan, ransacking everybody's knapsack 
 but his own. He was engaged in making 
 up deficiencies of kit preparatory to a cam- 
 paign, and in that employ he steals best 
 who steals last. " Ah, Mulcahy, you're in 
 good time," he shouted. " We've got the 
 route, and we're off on Thursday for a pic- 
 nic wid the Lancers next door." 
 
 An ambulance orderly appeared with a 
 huge basket full of lint rolls, provided by 
 the forethought of the queen, for such as 
 might need them later on. Horse Egan 
 unrolled his bandage and flicked it under 
 Mulcahy's nose, chanting: 
 
 " ' Sheep's skin an' bees'- wax, thunder, pitch and 
 
 plaster; 
 The more you try to pull it off, the more it sticks 
 
 the faster. 
 As I was goin' to New Orleans '
 
 loo Mine Own People 
 
 You know the rest of it, my Irish-Ameri- 
 can-Jew boy. By gad, ye have to fight for 
 the queen in the inside av a fortnight, my 
 darhn'." 
 
 A roar of laughter interrupted. Mul- 
 cahy looked vacantly dov/n the room. Bid 
 a boy defy his father when the pantomime- 
 cab is at the door, or a girl develop a will 
 of her own when her mother is putting the 
 last touches to the first ball-dress, but do 
 not ask an Irish regiment to embark upon 
 mutiny on the eve of a campaign; when it 
 has fraternized with the native regiment 
 that accompanies it, and driven its officers 
 into retirement with ten thousand clamor- 
 ous questions, and the prisoners dance for 
 joy, and the sick men stand in the open, 
 calling down all known diseases on the 
 head of the doctor who has certified that 
 they are '' medically unfit for active ser- 
 vice." And even the Mavericks might 
 have been mistaken for mutineers by one 
 so unversed in their natures as Mulcahy. 
 At dawn a girls' school might have learned 
 deportment fromx them. They knew that 
 their colonel's hand had closed, and that 
 he who broke that iron discipline would 
 not go to the front. Nothing in the world 
 will persuade one of our soldiers when he 
 is ordered to the north on the smallest of 
 afifairs, that he is not immediately going 
 gloriously ^o slay Cossacks and cook his
 
 Mutiny cf the Mavericks loi 
 
 kettles in the palace of the czar. A few 
 of the younger men mourned for Mulcahy's 
 beer, because the campaign was to be con- 
 ducted on strict temperance principles, but, 
 as Dan and Horse Egan said sternly: 
 " We've got the beerman with us ; he shall 
 drink now on his own hook." 
 
 Mulcahy had not taken into account the 
 possibility of being sent on active service. 
 He had made up his mind that he would 
 not go under any circumstances; but for- 
 tune was against him. 
 
 " Sick — you? " said the doctor, who had 
 served an unholy apprenticeship to his 
 trade in Tralee poor-houses. " You're only 
 homesick, and what you call varicose veins 
 come from overeating. A little gentle ex- 
 ercise will cure that." And later : " Mul- 
 cahy, my man, everybody is allowed to ap- 
 ply for a sick certificate once. If he tries 
 it twice, we call him by an ugly name. Go 
 back to your duty, and let's hear no more 
 of your diseases." 
 
 I am ashamed to say that Horse Egan 
 enjoyed the study of Mulcahy's soul in 
 those days, and Dan took an equal interest. 
 Together they would communicate to their 
 corporal all the dark lore of death that is 
 the portion of those who have seen men 
 die. Egan had the larger experience, but 
 Dan the finer imagination. Mulcahy shiv- 
 ered when the former spoke of the knife
 
 I02 Mine Own People 
 
 as an intimate acquaintance, or the latter 
 dwelt with loving particularity on the fate 
 of those who, wounded and helpless, had 
 been overlooked by the ambulances, and 
 had fallen into the hands of the Afghan 
 women-folk. 
 
 Mulcahy knew that the mutiny, for the 
 present at least, was dead. Knew, too, 
 that a change had come over Dan's usually 
 respectful attitude toward him, and Horse 
 Egan's laughter and frequent allusions to 
 abortive conspiracies emphasized all that 
 the conspirator had guessed. The horrible 
 fascination of the death-stories, however, 
 made him seek their society. He learned 
 much more than he had bargained for; and 
 in this manner. It was on the last night 
 before the regiment entrained to th-e front. 
 The barracks were stripped of everything 
 movable, and the men were too excited to 
 sleep. The bare walls gave out a heavy 
 hospital smell of chloride of lime — a 
 stench that depresses the soul. 
 
 " And what," said Mulcahy in an awe- 
 strkken whisper, after some conversation 
 on the eternal subject, " are you going to 
 do to me, Dan?" This might have been 
 the language of an able conspirator con- 
 ciliating a weak spirit. 
 
 " You'll see," said Dan, grimly, turning 
 over in his cot, '' or I rather shud say you'll 
 not see.'*
 
 Mutiny of the Mavericks 103 
 
 This was hardly the language of a weak 
 spirit. Mulcahy shook under the bed- 
 clothes. 
 
 " Be easy with him," put in Egan from 
 the next cot. '' He has got his chanst o' 
 goin' clean. Listen, Mulcahy: all we want 
 is for the good sake of the regiment that 
 you take your death standing up, as a man 
 shud. There be heaps an' heaps of enemy 
 — plenshus heaps. Go there an' do all you 
 can and die decent You'll die with a 
 good name there. 'Tis not a hard thing 
 considerin*." 
 
 Again jMulcahy shivered. 
 
 " And how could a man wish to die bet- 
 ter than fightin'? " added Dan, consolingly. 
 
 "And if I won't?" said the corporal in 
 a dry whisper. 
 
 *' There'll be a dale of smoke," returned 
 Dan, sitting up and ticking ofif the situa- 
 tion on his fingers, *' sure to be, an' the 
 noise of the firin' '11 be tremenjus, an' we'll 
 be running about up and down, the regi- 
 ment will. But we, Horse and I — we'll 
 stay by you, Mulcahy, and never let you 
 go. Maybe there'll be an accident." 
 
 " It's playing it low on me. Let me go. 
 For pity's sake, let me go! I never did 
 you harm, and — and I stood you as much 
 beer as I could. Oh, don't be hard on 
 me, Dan! You are — you were in it, too. 
 You won't kill me up there, will you? "
 
 I04 Mine Own People 
 
 " I'm not thinkin' of the treason; thougH 
 you shud be glad any honest boys drank 
 with you. It's for the regiment. We 
 can't have the shame o' you bringin' 
 shame on us. You went to the doctor 
 quiet as a sick cat to get and stay behind 
 an' live with the women at the depot — 
 you that wanted us to run to the sea in 
 wolf-packs like the rebels none of your 
 black blood dared to be! But we knew 
 about your goin' to the doctor, for he told 
 it in mess, and it's all over the regiment. 
 Bein' as we are your best friends, we didn't 
 allow any one to molest you yet. We will 
 see to you ourselves. Fight which you 
 will — us or the enemy — you'll never He 
 in that cot again, and there's more glory 
 and maybe less kicks from fighting the 
 enemy. That's fair speakin'." 
 
 " And he told us by word of mouth to go 
 and join with the niggers — you've forgot- 
 ten that, Dan," said Horse Egan, to justify 
 sentence. 
 
 "What's the use of plaguin' the man? 
 One shot pays for all. Sleep ye sound, 
 Mulcahy. But you onderstand, do ye 
 not?" 
 
 Mulcahy for some weeks understood 
 very little of anything at all save that ever 
 at his elbow, in camp, or at parade, stood 
 two big men with soft voices adjuring him 
 to commit hari kari lest a worse thing
 
 Mutiny of the Mavericks 105 
 
 should happen — to die for th*^ honor of 
 the regiment in decency among !he nearest 
 knives. But Mulcahy dreaded death. He 
 remembered certain things that priests had 
 said in his infancy, and his mother — not 
 the one at New York — starting from her 
 sleep with shrieks to pray for a husband's 
 soul in torment. It is well to be of a cul- 
 tured intelligence, but in time of trouble the 
 weak human mind returns to the creed it 
 sucked in at the breast, and if that creed 
 be not a pretty one, trouble follows. Also, 
 the death he would have to face would be 
 physically painful. Most conspirators have 
 large imaginations. Mulcahy could see 
 himself, as he lay on the earth in the night, 
 dying by various causes. They were all 
 horrible; the mother in New York was very 
 far away, and the regiment, the engine that, 
 once you fall in its grip, moves you forward 
 whether you will or won't, was daily com- 
 ing closer to the enemy! 
 
 They were brought to the field of Mar- 
 zun-Katai, and with the Black Boneens to 
 aid, they fought a fight that has never been 
 set down in the newspapers. In response, 
 many believe, to the fervent prayers of 
 Father Dennis, the enemy not only elected 
 to fight in the open, but made a beautiful 
 fight, as many weeping Irish mothers knew
 
 io6 Mine Own People 
 
 later. They gathered behind walls cr flick- 
 ered across the open in shouting masses, 
 and were pot-valiant in artillery. It was 
 expedient to hold a large reserve and wait 
 for the psychological moment that was be- 
 ing prepared by the shrieking shrapnel. 
 Therefore the Mavericks lay down in open 
 order on the brow of a hill to watch the 
 play till their call should come. Father 
 Dennis, whose place was in the rear, to 
 smooth the trouble of the wounded, had 
 naturally managed to make his way to the 
 foremost of his boys, and lay, like a black 
 porpoise, at length on the grass. To him 
 crawled Mulcahy, ashen-gray, demanding 
 absolution. 
 
 " Wait till you're shot," said Father Den- 
 nis, sweetly. " There's a time for every- 
 thing." 
 
 Dan Grady chuckled as he blew for the 
 fiftieth time into the breech of his speckless 
 rifle. IMulcahy groaned and buried his 
 head in his arms till a stray shot spoke like 
 a snipe immediately above his head, and a 
 general heave and tremor rippled the line. 
 Other shots followed, and a few took effect, 
 as a shriek or a grunt attested. The offi- 
 cers, who had been lying down with the 
 men, rose and began to walk steadily up 
 and down the front of their companies. 
 
 This maneuver, executed not for publi- 
 cation, but as a guarantee of good faith, to
 
 Mutiny of the Mavericks 1 07 
 
 soothe men, demands nerve. You must 
 not hurry, you must not look nervous, 
 though you know that you are a mark for 
 every rifle within extreme range; and, 
 above all, if you are smitten you must make 
 as little noise as possible and roll inward 
 through the files. It is at this hour, when 
 the breeze brings the first salt whiff of the 
 powder to noses rather cold at the tips, and 
 the eye can quietly take in the appearance 
 of each red casualty, that the strain on the 
 nerves is strongest. Scotch regiments can 
 endure for half a day, and abate no whit of 
 their zeal at the end; English regiments 
 sometimes sulk under punishment, while 
 the Irish, like the French, are apt to run 
 forward by ones and twos, which is just 
 as bad as running back. The truly wise 
 commandant of highly strung troops allows 
 them in seasons of waiting to hear the 
 sound of their own voices uplifted in song. 
 There is a legend of an English regiment 
 that lay by its arms under fire chanting 
 *' Sam Hail," to the horror of its newly 
 appointed and pious colonel. The Black 
 Boneens, who were suffering more than the 
 Mavericks, on a hill half a mile away, began 
 presently to explain tc all who cared to 
 listen : 
 
 •* We'll sound the jubilee, from the center to the 
 
 sea, 
 And Ireland shall be free, says the Shan- van" 
 
 Voght.-'
 
 lo8 Mine Own People 
 
 " Sing, boys," said Father Dennis, softly. 
 ^ It looks as if we cared for their Afghan 
 peas." 
 
 Dan Grady raised himself to his knees 
 and opened his mouth in a song imparted 
 to him, as to most of his comrades, in the 
 strictest confidence by Mulcahy — that 
 Mulcahy then lying limp and fainting on 
 the grass, the chill fear of death upon him. 
 
 Company after company caught up the 
 words which, the I. A. A. say, are to herald 
 the general rising of Erin, and to breathe 
 which, except to those duly appointed to 
 hear, is death. Wherefore they are printed 
 in this place: 
 
 ♦* The Saxon in heaven's just balance is weighed. 
 
 His doom, like Belshazzar's, in death has been 
 
 cast, 
 
 And the hand of the 'venger shall never be stayed 
 
 Till his race, faith, and speech are a dream of 
 
 the past." 
 
 They were heart-filling lines, and they 
 ran with a swirl; the I. A. A. are better 
 served by pens than their petards. Dan 
 clapped Mulcahy merrily on the back, ask- 
 ing him to sing up. The officers lay down 
 again. There was no need to walk any 
 more. Their men were soothing them- 
 selves, thunderously, thus : 
 
 •*St Mary in heaven has written the vow 
 
 That the land shall not rest till the heretic 
 blood.
 
 Mutiny of the Mavericks 109 
 
 From the babe at the breast to the hand at the 
 plow, 
 Has rolled to the ocean like Shannon in flood! " 
 
 " ril speak to you after all's over," said 
 Father Dennis, authoritatively, in Dan's 
 ear. " What's the use of confessing to me 
 when you do this foolishness? Dan, you've 
 been playing with fire! I'll lay you more 
 penance in a week than — " 
 
 " Come along to purgatory with us, 
 father, dear. The Boneens are on the 
 move : they'll let us go now ! " 
 
 The regiment rose to the blast of the 
 bugle as one man; but one man there was 
 who rose more swiftly than all the others, 
 for half an inch of bayonet was in the fleshy 
 part of his leg. 
 
 " You've got to do it," said Dan, grimly. 
 "Do it decent, anyhow;" and the roar of 
 the rush drowned his words as the rear 
 companies thrust forward the first, still 
 singing as they swung down the slope: 
 
 • From the child at the breast to the hand at the 
 
 plow 
 Has rolled to the ocean like Shannon in flood! ** 
 
 They should have sung it in the face of 
 England, not of the Afghans, whom it im- 
 pressed as much as did the wild Irish yell, 
 
 '' They came down singing," said the un- 
 '"fficial report of the enemy, borne from 
 village to village next day. " They con- 
 tinued to sing, and it was written that our
 
 no Mine Own People 
 
 men could not abide when they came. It 
 is believed that there was magic in the 
 aforesaid song." 
 
 Dan and Horse Egan kept themselves in 
 the neighborhood of Mulcahy. Twice the 
 man would have bolted back in the confu- 
 sion. Twice he was heaved like a half- 
 drowned kitten into the unpaintable inferno 
 of a hotly contested charge. 
 
 At the end, the panic excess of his fear 
 drove him into madness beyond all human 
 courage. His eyes staring at nothing, his 
 mouth open and frothing, and breathing 
 as one in a cold bath, he went forward de~ 
 mented, while Dan toiled after him. The 
 charge was checked at a high mud wall. 
 It was Mulcahy that scrambled up tooth 
 and nail and heaved down among the bayo- 
 nets the amazed Afghan who barred his 
 way. It was Mulcahy, keeping to the 
 straight line of the rabid dog, led a collec- 
 tion of ardent souls at a newly unmasked 
 battery, and flung himself on the muzzle 
 of a gun as his companions danced among 
 the gunners. It was Mulcahy who ran 
 wildly on from that battery into the open 
 plain where the enemy were retiring in sul- 
 len groups. His hands were empty, he 
 had lost helmet and belt, and he was bleed- 
 ing from a wound in the neck. Dan and 
 Horse Egan, panting and distressed, had 
 thrown themselves down on the ground by
 
 Mutiny of the Mavericks 1 1 1 
 
 the captured guns, when they noticed Mul- 
 cahy's flight. 
 
 " Mad," said Horse Egan, critically. 
 "Mad with fearl He's going straight to 
 his death, an' shouting's no use." 
 
 "Let him go. Watch now! If we fire 
 we'll hit him maybe." 
 
 The last of a hurrying crowd of Afghans 
 turned at the noise of shod feet behind him, 
 and shifted his knife ready to hand. This, 
 he saw, was no time to take prisoners. 
 Mulcahy ran on, sobbing, and the straight- 
 held blade went home through the defense- 
 less breast, and the body pitched forward 
 almost before a shot from Dan's rifle 
 brought down the slayer and still further 
 hurried the Afghan retreat. The two 
 Irishmen went out to bring in their dead. 
 
 " He was given the point, and that was 
 an easy death," said Horse Egan, viewing 
 the corpse. " But would you ha' shot him, 
 Danny, if he had lived?" 
 
 " He didn't live, so there's no sayin'. 
 But I doubt I wud have, bekase of the fun 
 he gave us — let alone the beer. Hike up 
 his legs, Horse, and we'll bring him in. 
 Perhaps 'tis better this way." 
 
 They bore the poor limp body to the 
 mass of the regiment, lolling open-mouthed 
 on their rifles; rnd there was a general 
 snigger when one of the younger subal- 
 terns said: " That was a good man! "
 
 112 Mine Own People 
 
 *' Phew ! " said Horse Egan when a bur- 
 ial party had taken over the burden. *' I'm 
 powerful dhry, and this reminds me, there'll 
 be no more beer at all." 
 
 ** Fwhy not?" said Dan, with a twinkle 
 in his eye as he stretched himself for rest. 
 " Are we not conspirin' all we can, an' 
 while we conspire are we not entitled to 
 free dhrinks? Sure his ould mother in 
 New York would not let her son's com- 
 rades perish of drouth — if she can be 
 reached at the end of a letter." 
 
 " You're a janius," said Horse Egan. 
 " O' coorse she will not. I wish this crool 
 war was over, an' we'd get back to can- 
 teen. Faith, the commander-in-chief ought 
 to be hanged on his own little sword-belt 
 for makin' us work on wather." 
 
 The Mavericks were generally of Horse 
 Egan's opinion. So they made haste to get 
 their work done as soon as possible, and 
 their industry was rewarded by unexpected 
 peace. ** We can fight the sons of Adam," 
 said the tribesmen, '* but we can not 
 fight the sons of Eblis, and this regiment 
 never stays still in one place. Let us 
 therefore come in." They came in, and 
 " this regiment " withdrew to conspire un- 
 der the leadership of Dan Grady. 
 
 Excellent as a subordinate, Dan failed 
 altogether as a chief-in-command — possi- 
 bly because he was too rriuch swayed b^^ the
 
 Mutiny of the Mavericks 1 1 3 
 
 advice of the only man in the regiment who 
 could perpetrate more than one kind of 
 handwriting. The same mail that bore to 
 Mulcahy's mother in New York a letter 
 from the colonel, telling her how valiantly 
 her son had fought for the queen, and how 
 assuredly he would have been recom- 
 mended for the Victoria Cross had he sur- 
 vived, carried a communication signed, I 
 grieve to say, by that same colonel and all 
 the officers of the regiment, explaining 
 their willingness to do '' anything which 
 is contrary to the regulations and all kinds 
 of revolutions " if only a little money could 
 be forwarded to cover incidental expenses. 
 Daniel Grady, Esquire, w^ould receive 
 funds, Z'ice Mulcahy, who " was unwell at 
 this present time of writing." 
 
 Both letters were forwarded from New 
 York to Tehema Street, San Francisco, 
 with marginal comments as brief as they 
 were bitter. The Third Three read and 
 looked at each other. Then the Second 
 Conspirator — he who believed in " joining 
 hands with the practical branches " — began 
 to laugh, and on recovering his gravity, 
 said: ** Gentlemen, I consider this will be 
 a lesson to us. " We're left again. Those 
 cursed Irish have let us down. I knew 
 they would, but " — here he laughed afresh 
 ■ — '* I'd give considerable to know what was 
 at the back of it all."
 
 114 Mine Own People 
 
 His curiosity would have been satisfied 
 had he seen Dan Grady, discredited regi- 
 mental conspirator, trying to explain to his 
 thirsty comrades in India the non-arrival 
 of funds from New York.
 
 AT THE END OF THE 
 PASSAGE 
 
 Four men, theoretically entitled to " life, 
 liberty, and the pursuit of happiness," sat 
 at a table playing whist. The thermome- 
 ter marked — for them — one hundred and 
 one degrees of heat. The room was dark-, 
 ened till it was only just possible to distin- 
 guish the pips of the cards and the very 
 white faces of the players. A tattered, rot- 
 ten punkah of whitewashed calico was pud- 
 dling the hot air and whining dolefully at 
 each stroke. Outside lay gloom of a No- 
 vember day in London. There was nei- 
 ther 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 table-clothwise 
 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, 
 
 "5
 
 Ii6 Mine Own People 
 
 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 bun- 
 galow that belonged to the assistant engin- 
 eer in charge of a section of the Gandhari 
 State line then under construction. 
 
 The four men, 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. Mot- 
 tram, of the India Survey, had ridden thirty 
 and railed one hundred miles from his 
 lonely post in the desert since the previous 
 night; 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 na- 
 tive 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 ap-
 
 At the End of the Passage 1 1 7 
 
 pear, he would send a telegram to his last 
 address, in order that he might know 
 whether the defaulter was dead or alive. 
 There be very many places in the East 
 where it is not good or kind to let your 
 acquaintances drop out of sight even for 
 one short week. 
 
 The players were not conscious of any 
 special regard for each other. They squab- 
 bled whenever they met; but they ardently 
 desired to meet, as men without water de- 
 sire to drink. They were lonely folk who 
 understood the dread meaning of loneli- 
 ness. They were all under thirty years of 
 age — which is too soon for any man to 
 possess that knowledge. 
 
 '* Pilsener," said Spurstow, after the sec- 
 ond rubber, mopping his forehead. 
 
 " Beer's out, I'm sorry to say, and there's 
 hardly enough soda-water for to-night," 
 said Hummil. 
 
 " What filthy bad management! " snarled 
 Spurstow. 
 
 " Can't help it. I've written and wired; 
 but the trains don't come through regu- 
 larly 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! 
 it's too hot to go on playing bumblepuppy.'* 
 
 This was a savage growl at Lowndes,
 
 1 1 8 Mine Own People 
 
 who only laughed. He was a hardened 
 offender. 
 
 Mottram rose from the table and looked 
 out of a chink in the shutters. 
 
 " What a sweet day! " said he. 
 
 The company yawned unanimously and 
 betook themselves to an aimless investiga- 
 tion of all Hnmmii'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. 
 
 " 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 'em- 
 selves 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 ad- 
 dress, Lowndes. The man was making a 
 speech to his constituents, and he piled it 
 on. Here's a sample: 'And I assert un- 
 hesitatingly that the Civil Service in India 
 is the preser^^e — 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, noth- 
 ing whatever. It is farmed, with a single 
 eye to their own interests, by the scions of
 
 At the End of the Passage 119 
 
 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. 
 "'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 honored 
 and decorated 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! " 
 
 "Good for you. Did you accept it?'* 
 said Mottram. 
 
 " No. I rather wish I had, now. She 
 was a pretty little person, and she yarned 
 away to me about the horrible destitution 
 among the king's women-folk. The dar- 
 lings haven't had any new clothes for nearly 
 a month, and the old man wants to buy a 
 new drag from Calcutta — solid silver rail- 
 ings and silver lamps, and trifles of that 
 kind. I've tried to make him understand 
 that he has played the deuce with the reve-
 
 I20 Mine Own People 
 
 nues for the last twenty years, and must go 
 slow. He can't see it." 
 
 " But he has the ancestral treasure-vault 
 to draw on. There must be three millions 
 at least in jewels and coin under his pal- 
 ace," said Hummil. 
 
 " Catch a native king disturbing the fam- 
 ily treasure! The priests forbid it, except 
 as the last resort. Old Timbersides has 
 added something like a quarter of a mil- 
 lion to the deposit in his reign." 
 
 " 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 ofif 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 heavily — liqueur brandy 
 for whiskey and Heidsieck for soda-water." 
 
 " 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 sup- 
 pose we'll have a council of regency, and a 
 tutor for the young prince, and hand him
 
 At the End of the Passage 121 
 
 back his kingdom with ten years' accumu- 
 lations." 
 
 " 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. " I should tackle the king 
 with a light hand, if I were you, Lowndes. 
 They'll hate you quite enough under any 
 circumstances." 
 
 " That's all very well. The man who 
 looks on can talk about the light hand ; but 
 you can't clean a pig-sty with a pen dipped 
 in rosewater. I know my risks; but noth- 
 ing 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 ac- 
 cept food from my true friends, as they 
 call themselves. Oh, but it's weary work! 
 I'd sooner be v/ith 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 but himself. And the 
 worst of it is that the poor devils look at 
 you as though you ought to save them. 
 Lord knows, I've 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
 
 122 Mine Own People 
 
 gin and Worcester sauce with cayenne. It 
 cured him; but I don't recommend it." 
 
 " How do the cases run generally? " said 
 Hummil. 
 
 " Very simply indeed. Chlorodyne, 
 opium pill, chlorodyne, collapse, nitre, 
 bricks to the feet, and then — the burning- 
 ghat. 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? " 
 
 " Sitting under a table in the tent and 
 spitting on the sextant to keep it cool," said 
 the man of the survey. " Washing my eyes 
 to avoid ophthalmia, which I shall cer- 
 tainly get, and trying to make a sub-sur- 
 veyor understand that an error of five 
 degrees in an angle isn't quite so small as it 
 looks. I'm altogether alone, y' know, and 
 shall t>e till the end of the hot weather." 
 
 " Hummil's the lucky man," said 
 Lowndes, flinging himself into a long chair. 
 " 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
 
 At the End of the Passage 123 
 
 get beer and soda-water, and ice it 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." 
 
 " Ap sef " said Spurstow, quickly, hint- 
 ing the suspicion that was in everybody's 
 mind. There was no cholera near Hum- 
 mil's section. Even fever gives a man at 
 least a week's grace, and sudden death gen- 
 erally 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 -^^eranda, 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 hirn, and 
 Ave tried to make him lie down. After an 
 hour or two he rubbed his eyes and sajd 
 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 scr^
 
 124 Mine Own People 
 
 vant that he was going after buck in the 
 morning. Naturally he fumbled with the 
 trigger, and shot himself through the head 
 accidentally. The apothecary sent in a re- 
 port to my chief, and Jevins is buried some- 
 where out there. I'd have wired to you, 
 Spurstow, if you could have done 
 anything." 
 
 " You're a queer chap," said Mottram. 
 " If you killed the man yourself you 
 couldn't have been more quiet about the 
 business." 
 
 *' Good Lord! what does it matter? " said 
 Hummil, calmly. " I've got to do a lot of 
 his overseeing 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 sui- 
 cide?" said Lowndes. 
 
 " 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 need a man to 
 smother up an accident to myself. Live 
 and let live. Die and let die." 
 
 '' You take a pill," said Spurstow, who 
 had been watching Hummil's white face 
 narrowly. " Take a pill, and don't be an 
 ass. That sort of talk is skittles. Anyhow,
 
 At the End of the Passage 125 
 
 suicide is shirking your work. If I was a 
 Job ten times over, I should be so inter- 
 ested in what was going to happen next 
 that I'd stay on and watch." 
 
 " Ah ! I've lost that curiosity," said 
 Hummil. 
 
 " Liver out of order? " said Lowndes, 
 feehngly. 
 
 " 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 ! 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! what is there to 
 do?" 
 
 " Begin whist again, at chick points " (a 
 *' chick " is supposed to be eight shillings),
 
 126 Mine Own People 
 
 " and a gold mohur on the rub," said Spur- 
 stow, 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 com- 
 pany," 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 house- 
 hold that had once held the bungalow — 
 and opened the case. 
 
 " It's used up long ago," said Hummil. 
 " The servants have oicked 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 key-board 
 something that might once have been the 
 ghost of a popular music-hall song. The 
 men in the long cliairs turned with evident 
 interest as Mottram banged the more 
 lustily. 
 
 "That's good!" said Lowndes. "By 
 Jove! the last time I heard that song was 
 in '79, or thereabouts, 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.
 
 At the End of the Passage 1 27 
 
 Mottram executed it indifferently well. 
 Lowndes criticised, and volunteered emen- 
 dations. 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 com- 
 position. 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 
 ]\Iottram continued unheeding, and the 
 crazy tinkle reached the ears of the listen- 
 ers above the flapping of the tattered ceil- 
 ing-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. 
 
 " Go on. Don't apologize for it," said 
 Spurstow. 
 
 Hummil laughed long and riotously.
 
 128 Mine Own People 
 
 * Play it, by all means. You're full of sur- 
 prises to-day. I didn't know you had such 
 a gift of finished sarcasm. How does that 
 thing go?" 
 
 -^.iottram took up the tune. 
 
 " Too slow by half. You miss the note 
 of gratitude," said Hummil. " It ought to 
 go to the ' Grasshopper 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 supplyj 
 May no ill dreams disturb my rest,'— 
 
 Quicker, Mottram ! — 
 
 • Or powers of darkness me molest i ' * 
 
 " Bah ! what an old hypocrite you are." 
 
 " 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 " 
 
 " Summer evenings in the country — 
 stained-glass window — light going out, 
 and you and she jamming your heads to- 
 gether over one hymn-book," said Mot- 
 tram. 
 
 " 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 band-
 
 At the End of the Passage 1 29 
 
 box 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 fathoms deep 
 in hell ! It's an insult to the intelligence ol 
 the Deity to pretend we're anything but 
 tortured rebels." 
 
 "Take tzvo pills," said Spurstow: "that's 
 tortured liver." 
 
 "The usually placid Hummil is in a vile 
 bad temper. Fm sorry for the 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, the curried 
 eggs, and the smoked tapioca pudding, 
 Spurstow took occasion to whisper to Mot- 
 tram: " 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 d d poor 
 
 host. This fowl can't be cut," returned 
 Spurstow, with a sweet smile. " Call this 
 ^. pinner? "
 
 130 Mine Own People 
 
 " I can't help it. You don't expect a ban- 
 quet, do you? " 
 
 Throughout that meal Hummil con- 
 trived laboriously to insult directly and 
 pointedly all his guests in succession, and 
 at each insult Spurstow kicked the ag- 
 grieved person under the table, but he 
 dared not exchange a glance of intelligence 
 with either of them. Hummii's face was 
 white and pinched, while his eyes were un- 
 naturally large. No man dreamed for a 
 moment of resenting his savage personali- 
 ties, but as soon as the meal was over they 
 made haste to get away. 
 
 " Don't go. You're just getting amus- 
 ing, you fellows. I hope I haven't said 
 anything that annoyed you. You're such 
 ilouchy devils." Then, changing the note 
 mto one of almost abject entreaty: " I say, 
 jou surely aren't going?" 
 
 " Where I dines, I sleeps, in the language 
 of the blessed Jorrocks," said Spurstow. 
 "' I want to have a look at your coolies to- 
 morrov/, 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 employs next day, and, saddling up, 
 departed together, Hummil begging them 
 to come next Sunday. As they jogged ofif 
 together, Lowndes unbosomed himself to 
 Mottram: ". . . And I never felt so 
 Tike kicking a man at his own table in my
 
 At the End of the Passage 131 
 
 iife. Said I cheated at whist, and reminded 
 me I was in debt! Told you you were as 
 good as a Har 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? Did you ever know him 
 go within a hundred miles of it? " 
 
 " That's no excuse. Spurstow was hack- 
 mg 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 bity 
 a'nd mind the 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 Sun- 
 day, if the sun doesn't bowl me over." 
 
 " S'pose so, unless old Timbersides** 
 finance minister manages to dress some of 
 my food. Good-night, and — God bless 
 you ! " 
 
 "What's wrong now?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing." Lowndes gathered up 
 his whip, and, as he flicked Mottram's mare 
 on the flank, added : " You're a good little
 
 132 Mine Own People 
 
 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 es- 
 tablishment 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 pun- 
 kah so that their fringes should just sweep 
 clear of each sleeper's nose and mouth, and 
 announced that the couches were ready. 
 
 The men flung themselves down, adjur- 
 ing the punkah-coolies by all the powers 
 of Eblis 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 attested, and 
 heavy with the foul smell of badly trimmed 
 kerosene lamps; and this stench, combined 
 with that of native tobacco, baked brick, 
 ai>d dried earth, sends the heart of many 
 a strong man down to his boots, for it is 
 the smell of the great Indian Empire when 
 she turns herself for six months into a 
 house of torment. Spurstow packed his 
 pillows craftily, so that he reclined rather 
 than lav, his head at a safe elevation above
 
 At the End of the Passage 133 
 
 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 gurglings from nat- 
 ural sleep into the deep slumber of heat- 
 apoplexy. 
 
 " 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 Hick of the punkah-towel and 
 the soft whine of the rope through the 
 wall-hole followed it. Then the punkah 
 tiagged, almost ceased. The sweat poured 
 from Spurstow's brow. Should he go out 
 and harangue the coolie? It started for- 
 ward again with a savage jerk, and a pin 
 came out of the towels. When this was 
 replaced, a tom-tom in the coolie lines be- 
 gan 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 
 Hummil's 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 
 w^ere clinched, and there was a pucker 
 round the quivering eyelids. 
 
 " He's holding himself as tightly as ever
 
 134 Mine Own People 
 
 he can," thought Spurstow. " What a 
 sham it is! and what in the world is the 
 matter with him.? — Hummil!" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Can't you get to sleep? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Head hot? Throat feeling bulgy? or 
 how? " 
 
 " Neither, thanks. I don't sleep much, 
 you know." 
 
 *' Feel pretty bad?" 
 
 " Pretty bad, thanks. There is a tom- 
 tom outside, 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 sleep — if it's only for six 
 hours! " He sprung up. " I haven't been 
 able to sleep naturally for days, and I can't 
 stand it! — I can't stand it!" 
 
 "Poor old chap!" 
 
 " That's no use. Give me something to 
 make me sleep. I tell you Pm nearly mad. 
 I don't know what I say half my time. For 
 three weeks Pve had to think and spell out 
 every word that has come through my lips 
 before I dared say it. I had to get my 
 sentences out down to the last word, for 
 fear of talking drivel if I didn't. Isn't that 
 enough to drive a man mad? I can't see 
 things correctly now, and Pve lost my 
 sense of touch. Make me sleep. Oh, 
 Spurstow, for the love of God, make me
 
 At the End of the Passage 135 
 
 sleep sound. It isn't enough merely to let 
 me dream. Let me sleep ! " 
 
 " All right, old man, all right. Go slow. 
 You aren't half as bad as you think." The 
 flood-gates of reserve once broken, Hum- 
 mil was clinging to him like a frightened 
 child. 
 
 " You're pinching my arm to pieces." 
 
 " 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. "As a matter of fact, I'm a 
 bit restless and off my oats, and perhaps 
 you could recommend some sort of sleep- 
 ing-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." He 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. 
 
 " The last appeal of civilization," said he, 
 " 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 sub- 
 cutaneously. Now in a few minutes the 
 morphia vv^ill begin working. Lie down 
 and wait."
 
 136 Mine Own People 
 
 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. 
 
 "Not for a good deal," said Spurstow to 
 the unconscious form. " And now, my 
 friend, sleeplessness of your kind being 
 very apt to relax the moral fiber 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, 
 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, placing 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 pre- 
 cautions 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 door- 
 way: "You fool!" 
 
 Such tones they use who speak in the
 
 At the End of the Passage 1 37 
 
 lucid intervals of delirium to their friends 
 a little before they die. 
 
 Spurstow jumped with sheer fright. 
 Hummil stood in the doorway, rocking 
 with helpless laughter. 
 
 " 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 stufif 
 won't work. What shall I do? What 
 shall I do? " And panic terror stood in his 
 eyes. 
 
 " Lie down and give it a chance. Lie 
 down at once." 
 
 " I daren't. It will only take me half- 
 way again, and I sha'n'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 have clogged 
 my feet. I was nearly caught." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I understand. Go and lie 
 down." 
 
 "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 door- 
 way in the expression of his lost innocence. 
 He had slept back into terrified childhood. 
 
 " Is he going to die on the spot? "
 
 X38 Mine Own People 
 
 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? " 
 
 '*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. 
 
 "Good God! I've been afraid of it for 
 months past, Spurstow. It has made every 
 night hell to n:e; and yet Fm not conscious 
 of having done anything wrong." 
 
 " Be still, and I'll give you another dose. 
 We'll stop your nightmares, you unutter- 
 able 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 sleepyc 
 It's so hard to run then." 
 
 " I know it; I know it. I've felt it my- 
 self. The symptoms are exactly as you 
 describe." 
 
 "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 roweled 
 like a horse! Ridden by the nightmare 
 with a vengeance! And we all thought
 
 At the End of the Passage 139 
 
 him sensible enough. Heaven send us 
 understanding! You like to talk, don't 
 you old man? " 
 
 " Yes, sometimes. Not when I'm fright- 
 ened. Theji I want to run. Don't you?" 
 
 " Always. Before I give you your sec- 
 ond dose, try to tell me exactly what your 
 trouble is." 
 
 Hummil spoke in broken whispers for 
 nearly ten minutes, while 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: " 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 cush- 
 ions under the head. " 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." 
 And 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. 
 
 " A blind face that cries and can't wipe 
 its eyes. H'm! Decidedly, Hummil ought 
 to go on .leave as soon as possible; and, 
 sane or otherwise, he undoubtedly did
 
 140 Mine Own People 
 
 rowel himself most cruelly. Well, Heaveo 
 send us understanding!" 
 
 At midday Hummil rose, with an evil 
 taste in his mouth, but an unclouded eye 
 and a joyful heart. 
 
 " I was pretty bad last night, wasn't I? " 
 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 certifi- 
 cate, will you apply for leave on the spot? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Why not? You want it." 
 
 " 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 Hne. You 
 aren't so important as all that. Wire for 
 leave, if necessary." 
 
 Hummil looked very uncomfortable. 
 
 " I can hold on till the rains," he said, 
 evasively. 
 
 " You can't. Wire to head-quarters for 
 Burkett." 
 
 " I won't. If you want to know why, 
 particularly, Burkett is married, and his 
 wife's just had a kid, and she's up at Simla, 
 in the cool, and Burkett has a very nice 
 billet that takes him into Simla from Sat-
 
 Al the End of the Passage 1 4 1 
 
 arday to Monday. That little woman isn't 
 at all well. If Burkett was transferred she'd 
 try to follow him. If she left the baby be- 
 hind 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 has got the phy- 
 sique of a rat. If he came here he'd go 
 out; and I know she hasn't any money, and 
 I am pretty sure she'd go out too. I'm 
 salted in a sort of way, and I'm not mar- 
 ried. Wait till the rains, and then Burkett 
 can get thin down here. It'll do him heaps 
 of good." 
 
 ** Do you mean to say that you intend 
 to face — what you have faced, for the next 
 fifty-six nights? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 "Bosh! 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?"
 
 142 Mine Own People 
 
 "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." 
 
 " 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!" 
 
 Hummil turned on his heel to face the 
 echoing desolation of his bungalow, and 
 the lirst thing he saw standing in the 
 veranda vras 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, rub- 
 bing 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, I shall 
 know that my head is going." 
 
 He walked to the figure, which naturally 
 kept at an unvarying distance from him, 
 as is the use of all specters that are born 
 of overwork. It slid through the house 
 and dissolved into swimming specks within 
 the eyeball as soon as it reached the burn- 
 ing light of the garden. Hummil went 
 about his business till even. When he came 
 into dinner he found himself sitting at the
 
 At the End of the Passage 143 
 
 rable. The thing rose and walked out 
 hastily. 
 
 No living man knows what that week 
 held for Hummil. An increase of the epi- 
 demic kept Spurstow in camp among the 
 coolies, and all he could do was to tele- 
 graph to Mottram, bidding him go to the 
 bungalow and sleep there. But Mottram 
 was forty miles away from the nearest tele- 
 graph, and knew nothing of anything save 
 the needs of the survey till he met early on 
 Sunday morning Lowndes and Spurstow 
 heading toward Hummil's for the weekly 
 gathering. 
 
 '' Hope the poor chap's in a better tem- 
 per," said the former, swinging himself off 
 his horse at the door. '' I suppose he isn't 
 up yet." 
 
 " I'll just have a look at him," said the 
 doctor. " If he's asleep there's no need to 
 wake him." 
 
 And an instant later, by the tone of Spur- 
 stow's voice calling upon them to enter, the 
 men knew what had happened. 
 
 The punkah was still being pulled over 
 the bed, but Hummil had departed this life 
 at least three hours before. 
 
 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 expres- 
 sion of any pen.
 
 144 Mine Own People 
 
 Mottram, who had entered behind 
 Lowndes, bent over the dead and touched 
 the forehead lightly with his lips. " Oh, 
 you lucky, lucky devil I " he whispered. 
 
 But Lowndes had seen the eyes, and had 
 withdrawn shuddering to the other side of 
 the room. 
 
 "Poor chap! poor chap! And the last 
 time I met him I was angry. Spurstow, 
 we should have watched him. Has he — " 
 
 Deftly Spurstow continued his investiga- 
 tion, ending by a search round the room. 
 
 " No, he hasn't," he snapped. *' There's 
 no trace of anything. Call in the servants." 
 
 They came, eight or ten of them, whis- 
 pering and peering over each other's 
 shoulders. 
 
 " When did your sahib go to bed? " said 
 Spurstow. 
 
 " At eleven or ten, we think," said Hum- 
 mil's personal servant. 
 
 " He was well then? But how should 
 you know? " 
 
 " He was not ill, as far as our compre- 
 hension extended. But he had slept very 
 little for three nights. This I know, be- 
 cause I saw him walking much, and espe- 
 cially in the heart of the night." 
 
 As Spurstow was arranging the sheet, a 
 big, straight-necked hunting-spur tumbled 
 on the ground. The doctor groaned. The 
 personal servant peeped at the body.
 
 At the End of the Passage 145 
 
 "What do you think, Chuma?" said 
 Spurstow, catching the look in the dark 
 face. 
 
 " 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 evi- 
 dence that he fought with Fear. Thus 
 have I seen men of my race do with thorns 
 when a spell was laid upon them to over- 
 take them in their sleeping hours and they 
 dared not sleep." 
 
 '* 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 dispensations 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." 
 
 " As far as I can make out, he died from 
 — oh, anything: stopping of the heart's 
 action, heat-apoplexy, or some other visita- 
 tion," said Spurstow to his companions. 
 " We must make an inventory of his effects, 
 and so on." 
 
 ** He was scared to death," insisted 
 Lowndes. " Look at those eyes ! For 
 pity's sake, don't let him be buried with 
 them open! "
 
 146 Mine Own People 
 
 " Whatever it was, he's out of all the 
 trouble now," said Mottram, softly. 
 
 Spurstow was peering into the open eyes. 
 
 '* Come here," said he. " Can you see 
 anything there? " 
 
 '' I can't face it! " whimpered Lowndes. 
 " Cover up the face! Is there any fear on 
 earth that can turn a man into that like- 
 ness? It's ghastly. Oh, Spurstow, cover 
 him up! " 
 
 " 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' 
 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 
 opposite each of the dead man's eyes, of a 
 frequent clicking of the same, and of a be-
 
 At the End of the Passage 147 
 
 wildered muttering on the part of the doc- 
 tor sahib, who subsequently took the little 
 green box away with him. 
 
 The resonant hammering of a coffin-lid 
 is no pleasant thing to hear, but those who 
 have experience 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 road-side is 
 appareled for burial, sinking gradually as 
 the tapes are tied over, till the swaddled 
 shape touches the floor and there is no pro- 
 test against the indignity of hasty disposal. 
 
 At the last moment Lowndes was seized 
 v/ith scruples of conscience. " Ought you 
 to read the service — from beginning to 
 end? " said he. 
 
 " 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 somewhere — I'm willing to ride any- 
 where — and give poor Humimil a better 
 chance. That's all." 
 
 "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 
 said Spurstow, absently: 
 
 " Tisn't in medical science.''
 
 248 Mine Own People 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Things in a dead man's eyes." 
 
 " For goodness' sake, leave that horror 
 alone!" said Lowndes. "I've seen a na* 
 tive die of fright when a tiger chivied him. 
 I know what killed Hummil." 
 
 "The deuce you do! I'm going to try 
 to see." And the doctor retreated into the 
 bathroom with a Kodak camera, splashing 
 and grunting for ten minutes. Then there 
 was the sound of something being ham- 
 mered to pieces, and Spurstow emerged, 
 very white indeed. 
 
 "Have you got a picture?" said Mot- 
 tram. "What does the thing look like?" 
 
 " Nothing there. It was impossible, of 
 course. You needn't look, Mottram. Fve 
 torn up the films. There was nothing 
 there. It was impossible." 
 
 "That," said Lowndes, very distinctly, 
 watching the shaking hand striving to re- 
 light the pipe, " is a damned lie." 
 
 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, 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. Come on." 
 
 No one moved. It is not pleasant to face
 
 At the End of the Passage 149 
 
 railway journeys at midday in June. Spur- 
 stow 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 ?" 
 
 But neither Mottram nor Lowndes had 
 any answer to the question.
 
 THE INCARNATION 
 
 OF 
 
 KRISHNA MULVANEY 
 
 Once upon a time, and very far from 
 this land, 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 admit- 
 ted to the outer door-mats of decent folk, 
 because they happened to be private sol- 
 diers in her majesty's army; and private 
 soldiers of that employ have small time for 
 self-culture. Their duty is to keep them- 
 selves and their accouterments specklessly 
 clean, to refrain from getting drunk more 
 often than is necessary, to obey their supe- 
 riors, 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 
 xso
 
 Incarnation of Mulvaney 151 
 
 men die with great swiftness, and those 
 who Hve 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 Burmah. Then their 
 regiment sat still to recruit, and the bound- 
 less 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 Ber- 
 muda to Halifax, old in war, scarred, reck- 
 less, resourceful, and in his pious hours an 
 unequaled soldier. To him^ turned for help 
 and comfort six and a half feet of slow- 
 moving, heavy-footed Yorkshireman, born 
 on the wolds, bred in the dales, and edu- 
 cated chiefly among the carriers' carts at 
 the back of York railway-station. His 
 name was Learoyd, and his chief virtue an 
 unmitigated 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 can not
 
 152 Mine Own People 
 
 explain. " 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 evil it was 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 anxi- 
 ous 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, Hfe 
 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 friendship — frankly by Mulvaney 
 from the beginning, sullenly and with re- 
 luctance by Learoyd, and suspiciously by 
 Ortheris, who held to it that no man not 
 in the army could fraternize with a red- 
 coat. *' Like to like," said he. " Tm a 
 bloomin' sodger — he's a bloomin* civilian. 
 Taint natural — that's all." 
 
 But that was not all. They thawed pro- 
 gressively, and in the thawing told me more 
 of their lives and adventures than I am 
 likely to find room for here.
 
 Incarnation of Mulvaney 153 
 
 Omitting all else, this tale begins with 
 the lamentable thirst that was at the begin- 
 ning 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 " 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 guard-room. He 
 escaped, however, with nothing worse than 
 a severe reprimand, and a few hours of 
 punishment drill. Not for nothing had he 
 acquired the reputation of being " the best 
 soldier of his inches '* in the regiment. 
 I\Iulvaney had taught personal cleanliness 
 and efficiency as the first articles of his 
 companions' creed, " A dhirty m.an," he 
 was used to say, in the speech of his kind, 
 " goes to clink for a weakness in the knees, 
 an' is coort-martialed for a pair av socks
 
 154 Mine Own People 
 
 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 'couterments are widout a 
 speck — that man may, spakin' in reason, 
 do fwhat he Hkes, 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 
 water-course used to run in rainy weather. 
 Behind us was the scrub jungle, in which 
 jackals, peacocks, the gray wolves of the 
 Northwestern Provinces, and occasionally 
 a tiger estrayed from Central India, were 
 supposed to dwell. In front lay the can- 
 tonment, 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 whoso slays one is in danger of 
 being mobbed by the nearest villagers; but 
 on the last occasion that Mulvaney had 
 gone forth he had contrived, without in 
 the least oflFending local religious suscepti- 
 bilities, to return with six beautiful peacock 
 skins which he sold to profit. It seemed 
 just possible then — 
 
 " But fwhat manner av use is ut to me 
 goin' widout a dhrink? The ground's pow-
 
 Incarnation of Mulvaney 155 
 
 dher-dry 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 meditatively: 
 
 *• * Go forth, return in glory, 
 To Clusium's royal ome; 
 An' round these bloomin' temples ang 
 The bloomin* shields o* Rome.' 
 
 You'd better go. You ain't to shoot youT" 
 self — not while there's a chanst of liquor-> 
 Me an' Learoyd '11 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'a You 
 kin get one day's leave easy as winkin'. 
 Go along an' get it, an' get peacockses or 
 somethin'." 
 
 " Jock," said Mulvaney, turning to Lea- 
 ro3^d, who was half asleep under the shadow 
 of the bank. He roused slowly. 
 
 *' Sitha, Mulvaney, 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 regi* 
 mental fowling-piece in his hand — " take
 
 156 Mine Own People 
 
 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* afther peacockses in a 
 disolit Ian'; an' I know that I will lie down 
 an' die wid thirrst. Me catch peacockses 
 for you, ye lazy scuts — an' be sacrificed 
 by the peasanthry." 
 
 He waved a huge paw and went away. 
 
 At twilight, long before the appointed 
 hour, he returned empty-handed, much be- 
 grimed 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. 
 
 "Jock," said Mulvaney, as he stirred up 
 the sleeper. " Jock, can ve fight? Will ye 
 fight? " 
 
 Very slowly the meaning of the words 
 communicated itself to the half-roused 
 man. He 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 tie 
 of tried friendship. Once again Mulvaney 
 repeated the question. Learoyd answered
 
 Incarnation of Mulvaney 1 57 
 
 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 bewil- 
 dered. Ortheris dropped from the table. 
 His world was falling. 
 
 " Come outside," said Mulvaney; and as 
 the occupants of the barrack-room pre- 
 pared joyously to follow, he turned and 
 said furiously: "There will be no fight 
 this night — onless any wan av you is wish- 
 ful 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 scurry- 
 ing jackals. Mulvaney's impetuous rush 
 carried his companions far into the open 
 ere Learoyd attempted to turn round and 
 continue the discussion. 
 
 "Be still now. 'Twas my fault for be- 
 ginnin' things in the middle av an end, 
 Jock. I should ha' comminst wid an ex- 
 planation; but Jock, dear, on your sowl, 
 are ye fit, think you, for the finest fight 
 that iver was — betther than fightin' me? 
 Consldher before ye answer." 
 
 More than ever puzzled, Learoyd turned 
 round two or three times, felt an arm, 
 kicked tentatively, and answered: " Ah'm
 
 158 Mine Own People 
 
 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 IMulvaney untangled 
 himself in mighty words. 
 
 'Tollowin' your fools' scheme, I wint out 
 into the thrackless desert beyond the bar- 
 ricks. An' there I met a pious Hindoo 
 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 nay- 
 gur man dhruv miles an' miles — as far as 
 the new raihvay line they're buildin' now 
 back av the Tavi River. ' 'Tis a kyart for 
 dhirt only,' says he now an' again timor- 
 ously, to get me out av ut. * Dhirt I am/ 
 sez I, *an' the dhryest that you 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 embank- 
 ment av the line where the coolies were 
 pilin' mud. There was a matther av two 
 thousand coolies on that line — you remim- 
 ber that. Prisintly a bell rang, an' they 
 throops ofif to a big pay-shed. 'Where's 
 the white man in charge?' sez I to my 
 kyart-driver. * In the shed,* sez he, * en- 
 gaged on a riffle.' * A fwhat ? ' sez I. * Rif->
 
 Incarnation of Muivaney 151^ 
 
 fle/ sez he. ' You take ticket. He takes 
 money. You get nothinV 'Oho!' sez I, 
 'that's what 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 char- 
 ity-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 w^ages was on a table forninst a big» 
 fine, red buck av a man — sivun fut high, 
 four fut Vv'ide, 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 
 would deduct from their wages accordinV 
 Whin all was paid, he filled an ould cigar- 
 box full av gun-wads an' scattered 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 have 
 ut.' * Good may ut do you,' sez I. The 
 coolie went forward to this big, fine red 
 man, who threw a cloth ofif of the most 
 sumpshus, jooled, enameled, an' variously 
 bediviled sedan-chair I iver saw." 
 
 " Sedan-chair! Put your 'ead in a bag. 
 That was a palanquin. Don't yer know «.
 
 i6o Mine Own People 
 
 palanquin when you see it? " said Ortheris, 
 with great scorn. 
 
 " I chuse to call ut sedan-chair, an' chair 
 ut shall be, little man," continued the Irish- 
 man. " '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.' ' 1 am graciously pleased to ac- 
 cept that same,' sez the red man; an* 
 at that all the coolies cried aloud 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. * Stand- 
 in'-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 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 awhile. D'ye 
 raffle much in these parts? ' * Fwhat's that 
 to you?' sez he. ' Nothin',' sez I, '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
 
 Incarnation of Mulvaney 1 6 i 
 
 questions. Bhoys, that man's name is 
 Dearsley, an' he's been rafflin' that ould 
 sedan-chair monthly this matter av nine 
 months. Ivry cooHe on the section takes 
 a ticket — or he gives 'em the go — wanst 
 a month on pay-day. Ivry cooHe that win& 
 ut gives lit 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'. Two thousand coolies 
 defrauded wanst a month ! " 
 
 " Dom t' coolies. Hast gotten t' cheer, 
 man?" said Learoyd. 
 
 " Hould on, Havin' onearthed thr« 
 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 
 foreman av coolies. 'Tis a king's chair or 
 a quane's. There's gold on ut an' silk arr 
 all manner av trapesemints. Bhoys, 'tis not 
 for me to countenance any sort av wrong- 
 doin' — me bein' the ould man — but — 
 any way 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
 
 £62 Mine Own People 
 
 Then he nodded partly to himself and 
 partly to his friends. Ortheris wriggled 
 with suppressed emotion. 
 
 " I thought ye wud see the reasonableness 
 av ut/ said ^lulvaney. " I made bould to 
 say as much to the man before. He was 
 for a direct front attack — fut, horse, an' 
 e^uns — an' all for nothin', seein' that I had 
 no transport to convey the machine away, 
 I Vv'ill not argue wid you/ sez I, ' this day, 
 but subsequently, Mister Dearsley, me raf- 
 tim' jool, we'll talk ut out lengthways. Tis 
 no good policy to swindle the naygur av his 
 hard-earned emolum-ints, an' by presint in- 
 tormashin' — 'twas the kyart man that tould 
 me — ^ ye've been perpethrating 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 — ' I'm willin' to compound 
 the felony for this month's winnin's/ " 
 
 " Ah ! Ho ! " from Learoyd and Ortheris. 
 
 " That man Dearsley's rushin' on his 
 late/' continued Alulvaney, solemnly wag- 
 ging his head. " All hell had no name bad 
 enough for me that tide. Faith, he called 
 me a robber! Me! that was savin* him 
 jFrom continuin' in his evil ways widout a 
 remonstrince — an' to a man av conscience 
 a remonstrince may change the chune av
 
 Incarnation of Mulvaney 163 
 
 his life. ' Tis not for me to argue/ sez I, 
 * f whatever 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, ' for 
 well I know you will never dare make re- 
 port to any one.' ' Fight I will,' sez I, ' but 
 not this day, for I'm rejuced for want av 
 nourishment.' ' Ye're an ould bould hand,' 
 sez he, sizin' me up an' down; ' 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. 
 ' It goes hard on me now,' sez I, wipin' 
 rtiy mouth, * to confiscate that piece av fur- 
 niture; but justice is justice.' ' Ye've not 
 got ut yet,' sez he; * there's the fight be- 
 tween.' * There is,' sez I, * an' a good fight. 
 Ye shall have the pick av the best quality 
 in my regiment for the dinner you have 
 given this day.' Thin I came hot-foot for 
 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 eyes, 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; so me an' Orth'ris '11 see fair 
 play. Jock, I tell you, 'twill be big fightin' 
 — whipped, wid the cream above the jani<
 
 i04 Mine Own People 
 
 Afther the business ^twlll take a good three 
 av us — Jock '11 be very hurt — to take 
 away that sedan-chair," 
 
 ** 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 afther all? He has robbed 
 the naygur man dishonust. We rob him 
 honust." 
 
 " But wot'll we do with the bloomin^ 
 li article when we've got it? Them palan- 
 qums are as big as 'ouses, an' uncommon 
 'ard to sell, as ^IcCleary said when ye stole 
 the sentrv-box from the Curragh." 
 
 " Who's goin* to do t* fightin'? " said Lea^ 
 royd, and Ortheris subsided. The three 
 returned to barracks without a word. ]Mul- 
 vaney's last argument clinched the matter. 
 This palanquin Vv-as property, vendible and 
 to be attained in the least embarrassing 
 fashion. It would eventually 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 without care, for Mul- 
 vaney dived darkly into the future and lit- 
 tle (Drtheris 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
 
 Incarnation of Mulvaney 165 
 
 know, and their tale is a confusing one, 
 running thus: 
 
 " We were at work. Three men in red 
 coats came. They saw the sahib — Dears- 
 ley Sahib. They made oration, and notice- 
 ably 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 midday meal. 
 The small man in the red coat had pos- 
 sessed himself of Dearsley Sahib's watch. 
 No, he did not steal that watch. He held 
 it in his hands, and at certain season made 
 outcry, and the twain ceased 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
 
 1 66 Mine Own People 
 
 ten or fifty in both arms, and beat our heads 
 together, so that our Hvers turned to water, 
 and we ran away. It is not good to inter- 
 fere 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 at- 
 tempted 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 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 palanquin, for the up-keep of which 
 we were forced to pay nine tenths of our 
 monthly wage. On such mulctlngs Dears- 
 ley 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 monej
 
 Incarnation of Mulvaney 167 
 
 that Dearsley Sahib had taken from us was 
 in the cushions of that palanquin. There 
 fore they stole it. Thousands of rupees 
 were there — all our money. It was our 
 bank-box, to fill which we cheerfully con- 
 tributed to Dearsley Sahib three sevenths 
 of our monthly wage. Why does the 
 white man look upon us with the eye ot 
 disfavor? Before God, there was a palan- 
 quin, and now there is no palanquin; and 
 if they send the police here to make mqui- 
 sition, 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 sim- 
 plest story connected with the descent upon 
 Dearsley. From the lips of the coolies 1 
 received it. Dearsley himself 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 was taken from him. I 
 respected that reserve until, three days aftei 
 the affair, I discovered in a disused stable 
 in my quarters a palanquin of unchastened 
 splendor — evidently in past days the litter 
 of a queen. The pole whereby it swung 
 between the shoulders of the bearers wai^ 
 rich with the painted papier-mache of Cash 
 mere. The shoulder-pads were ot yellovy
 
 1 68 Mine Own People 
 
 silk. The panels of the litter itself were 
 ablaze with the loves of all the gods and 
 goddesses of the Hindoo Pantheon — lac- 
 quer on cedar. The cedar sliding doors 
 were fitted with hasps of translucent Jaipur 
 enamel, and ran in grooves shod with sil- 
 ver. The cushions were of brocaded Delhi 
 silk, and the curtains, which once hid any 
 glimpse of the beauty of the king's palace, 
 were stilt with gold. Closer investigation 
 showed that the entire fabric was every- 
 where rubbed and discolored by time and 
 wear ; but even thus it was sufhciently gor- 
 geous to deserve housing on the threshold of 
 a royal zenana. I found no fault with it, ex- 
 cept that it was in my stable. Then, trying 
 to lift it by the sliver-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. Still 
 I did not quite recognize the right of the 
 three musketeers to turn me into a " fence." 
 " I'm askin' you to warehouse ut," said 
 Mulvaney, when he was brought to con- 
 sider the question. " 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
 
 Incarnation of Mulvaney 169 
 
 was shquealin' on one leg, chewin' big bites 
 out av Dearsley's watch, I wud ha' given 
 my place in 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 nowc 
 There's not the lest trouble in the world, 
 or we wud not ha' brought ut here. You 
 will ondherstand that the queen — God 
 bless her! — 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 n'r broke Orth'ris' heart, we set 
 ut in the ravine for a night; an' a thief av a 
 porcupine an' a civit-cat av a jackal roosted 
 in ut, as well we knew in the mornin*. I 
 put ut to you, sorr, is an elegant palanquin, 
 fit for the princess, the natural abidin'-place 
 av all the vermin in cantonmlnts? We 
 brought ut to you, afther dhark, and put 
 ut in your shtable. Do not let your con- 
 science prick. Think av the rejoicin' men 
 in the pay-shed yonder — lookin' at Dears- 
 ley wid his head tied up in a towel — an* 
 well knovvin' that they can dhraw their pay 
 ivery month widout stoppages for riffles* 
 Indirectly, sorr, you have rescued from an 
 onprincipled son av a night-hawk the peas- 
 antry av a numerous villasre. An' besides, 
 will I let that sedan-chair rot on our handsic
 
 S70 Mine Own People 
 
 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 it. Some day 
 meself, whin I have leisure, I'll take ut up 
 along the road an' dispose av ut." 
 
 " How? " said I. 
 
 " Get into ut, av course, an' keep wan 
 eye open through the curtain. Whin I see 
 a likely man of the native persuasion, I 
 will descend blushin' from my canopy, and 
 say: * Buy a palanquin, ye black scut? ^ 
 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, v;as altogether disposed to un- 
 dervalue it, while Ortheris openly said it 
 would be better to break the thing up. 
 Dearsley,he argued, might be a many-sided 
 man, capable, despite his magnificent fight- 
 ing qualities, of setting in motion the ma- 
 chinery of the civil law, a thing much 
 abhorred by the soldier. Under the cir- 
 cumstances their fun had come and passed, 
 the next pay-day was close at hand, when 
 there would be beer for all. Wherefore 
 longer conserv-e the painted palanquin? 
 
 " A first-class rifie-shot an' a good littl©
 
 Incarnation of Mulvaney 171 
 
 man av your inches you are," said Mul- 
 vaney. *' 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. Orth'ris, me son, 'tis no matther 
 av a few gallons av beer — no, nor twenty 
 gallons — but tubs an' vats an' firkins in 
 that sedan-chair." 
 
 Meantime, the palanquin stayed in my 
 stall, the key of which was in Mulvaney's 
 hand. 
 
 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 morning he and the palan- 
 quin had disappeared. He had taken the 
 precaution of getting three days' leave " to 
 see a friend on the railway," and the colonel, 
 well , knowing that the seasonal outburst 
 was near, and hoping it w^ould spend its 
 force beyond the limits of his jurisdiction, 
 cheerfully gave him all he demanded. At 
 this point his 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. He's gone 
 an' 'ired six men to carry 'im, an' I 'ad 
 to 'elp 'im into 'is nupshal couch, 'cause
 
 172 Mine Own People 
 
 'e wouldn't 'ear reason. 'E's gone of! in 
 'is shirt an' trousies, swearin* tremenjus — 
 gone down the road in the palanquin, 
 wavin' 'is legs out o' windy." 
 
 "Yes," said I, "but where?" 
 
 " Now you arx me a question. 'E said 
 'e was going to sell that palanquin; but 
 from observations what happened when I 
 was stuffin' 'im through the door, I fancy 
 Vs gone to the new embankment to mock 
 at Dearsley. Soon as Jock's off duty I'm 
 going there to see if 'e's safe — not Mul- 
 vaney, but t'other man. My saints, but J 
 pity 'im as 'elps Terence out o' the palan- 
 quin when 'e's once fair drunk! " 
 
 " He'll come back," I said. 
 
 " 'Corse 'e will. On'y question is, whatll 
 ^e be doin' on the road. Killing Dearsley^ 
 like as not. 'E shouldn't 'a gone without 
 •Jock or me." 
 
 Re-enforced 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 condition, 
 and Dearsley indignantly denied that he 
 would have taken advantage of the intoxi- 
 cated brave. 
 
 " I had my pick o' you two,'* he ex- 
 plained to Learoyd, " and you got my 
 palanquin — not before I'd made my profit 
 Sin it. Why'd I do harm when everything's
 
 Incarnation of Mulvaney 173 
 
 settled? Your man did come here— « 
 drunk as Davy's cow on a frosty night — 
 came a-purpose to mock me — stuck his 
 'ead 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 per- 
 ceive the evidences of sincerity, answered 
 only; " If owt comes to Mulvaney long o' 
 you, I'll gripple you, clouts or no clouts 
 on your ugly head, an' I'll draw t* throat 
 twisty-ways, man. See there now." 
 
 The embassy removed itself, and Dears- 
 ley, 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 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 reign- 
 ing princess, is not a thing to travel along 
 the ways without comment. Yet no m.an 
 of all the country round had seen any such 
 wonder. He was, and he was not; and 
 Learoyd suggested the immediate smash- 
 ment as a sacrifice to his ghost. Ortheris 
 insisted that all was well. 
 
 " When Mulvaney goes up the road," 
 said he, " 'e's like to go a very long ways 
 up, especially when 'e's so blue drunk as "e 
 is nowc But what gits me is 'is not bein*
 
 174 Mine Own People 
 
 card of pullin' wool of the niggers some 
 where about. That don't look good. The 
 drink must ha' died out in 'im by this, 
 unless "e's broke a bank, an' then — Why 
 don't 'e come back? 'E didn't ought to ha* 
 gone off without us." 
 
 Even Ortheris' heart sunk at the end of 
 the seventh day, for half the regiment were 
 out scouring the country-sides, and Lea- 
 royd 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 de- 
 serting as you would," said he. " No; he's 
 either fallen into a mischief among the vil- 
 lagers — and yet that isn't likely, for he'd 
 blarney himself out of the pit; or else he 
 IS engaged on urgent private affairs — som.e 
 stupendous devilment that we shall hear of 
 at mess after it has been the round of the 
 barrack-room. The worst of it is that I 
 shall have to give him twenty-eight days' 
 confinement at least for being absent with- 
 out leave, just when I most want him to 
 lick the new batch of recruits into shape. I 
 never knew a man who could pUt polish on 
 young soldiers as quickly as Mulvaney caric 
 How does he do it? " 
 
 ** With blarney and the buckle-end of a 
 belt, sir," said the adjutant. " He is worth
 
 Incarnation of Mulvaney 175 
 
 a couple of non-commissioned 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 
 C'.lls the other two are neither to hold nor 
 to bind till he comes out again. I believe 
 Ortheris preaches mutiny on those occa- 
 sions, and I know that the mere presence 
 of Learoyd mourning for Mulvaney kills 
 all the cheerfulness of his room. The ser- 
 geants tell me that he allows no man to 
 laugh when he feels unhappy. They are a 
 queer gang." 
 
 '* For ail that, I wish we had a few more 
 of them. I like a well-conducted regi- 
 ment, but these pasty-faced, shifty-eyed, 
 rtiealy-mouthed young slouchers from the 
 depot worry me sometimes with their offen- 
 sive virtue. They don't seem to have back- 
 bone enough to do anything but play cards 
 and prowl round the m.arried quarters. I 
 believe I'd forgive that old villain on the 
 spot if he turned up with any sort of ex- 
 planation that I could in decency accept.'" 
 
 *' Not likely to be much difficulty about 
 that, sir," said the adjutant. '' Mulvaney's 
 explanations are one degree less wonderful 
 than his performances. They say that 
 when he was in the Black Tyrone, before 
 he came to us, he was discovered on the 
 banks of the Liffey trying to sell his 
 colonel's charger to a Donegal dealer as a
 
 176 Mine Own People 
 
 perfect lady's hack. Shakbolt commanded 
 the Tyrone then." 
 
 " Shakbolt 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 by 
 starvation. What did Mulvaney say? " 
 
 " 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 dim- 
 ples/ Shakbolt laughed, but I fancy that 
 was why Mulvaney exchanged to ours." 
 
 " I wish he were back," said the colonel; 
 " for I like him, and beUeve he likes me." 
 
 That evening, to cheer our souls, Lea- 
 royd, Ortheris and I went into the waste 
 to smoke out a porcupine. All the dogs 
 attended, but even their clamor — and 
 they began to discuss the shortcomings of 
 porcupines before they left cantonments — 
 could not take us out of ourselves. A 
 large, low moon turned the tops of the 
 plume grass to silver, and the stunted 
 camel-thorn bushes and sour tamarisks into 
 the likeness of trooping devils. The smell 
 of the sun had net left the earth, and little 
 aimless winds, blowing across the rose gar- 
 dens 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 porcu^ !ne, we climbed
 
 Incarnation of Mulvaney i j'j 
 
 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 unusual san- 
 guinary. 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 middle 
 of it all. Quite right. I'd dance, too, if 
 I wasn't so down-heart." 
 
 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 
 toward us, and its outline was never twice 
 the same. The toga, table-cloth, or dress- 
 ing-gown, whatever the creature w^ore, took 
 a hundred shapes. Once it stopped on a 
 neighboring 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 anv furder 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 min- 
 ute at gaze, gave tongue to the stars.
 
 178 Mine Own People 
 
 " Mulvaney ! Mulvaney ! A hoo ! '* 
 
 Then we yelled all together, and the fig- 
 ure dipped into the hollow till, with a crash 
 of rending grass, the lost one strode up to 
 the light of the lire, and disappeared to 
 the waist in a wave of joyous dogs. Then 
 Learoyd and Ortheris gave greeting bass 
 and falsetto. 
 
 '* You damned fool! " said they, and sev- 
 erally punched him with their fists. 
 
 " Go easy ! " he answered, wrapping a 
 huge arm around each. " I would have 
 you to know that I am a god, to be treated 
 as such — though, by my faith, I fancy I've 
 got to go to the guard-room 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 
 IMulvaney as mad. He was hatless and 
 shoeless, and his shirt and trousers were 
 dropping off him. But he wore one won- 
 drous garment — a gigantic cloak that fell 
 from collar-bone to heels — of pale pink 
 silk,\vrought all over, in cunningest needle- 
 work of hands long since dead, with the 
 loves of the Hindoo gods. The monstrous 
 figures leaped in and out of the light of the 
 fire as he settled the folds round him. 
 
 Ortheris handled the stufip respectfully 
 for a moment while I was trying to remem- 
 ber where I had seen it before.
 
 Incarnation of Mul van ey 179 
 
 Then he screamed: "What 'ave you 
 done with the palanquin? You're wearin' 
 the Unin'." 
 
 " I am," said the Irishman, '' an' by the 
 same token the 'broidery is scrapin' me 
 hide off. I've Hved in this sumpshus coun- 
 terpane for four days. Me son, I begin to 
 ondherstand why the naygur is no use. 
 Widout me boots, an' me trousers Hke an 
 open-work stocking on a gyurl's leg at a 
 dance, I began to feel like a naygur — all 
 timorous. Give me a pipe an' I'll tell on." 
 
 He lighted a pipe, resumed his grip of 
 his two friends, and rocked to and fro in a 
 gale of laughter. 
 
 " Mulvaney," said Ortheris, sternly, 
 " 'tain't no time for laughin'. You've 
 given Jock an' me more trouble than you're 
 worth. You 'ave been absent without 
 leave, and you'll go into the 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 insides out. Ha' done an' 
 listen. My performinces have been stupen- 
 jus; my luck has been the blessed luck of 
 the British army — an' there's no better
 
 l8o Mine Own People 
 
 than that. I went out drunk an' drinking 
 in the palanquin, and I have come back a 
 pink god. Did any of you go to Dearsley 
 afther my time was up? He was at the 
 bottom of ut all." 
 
 " Ah said so," murmured Learoyd. 
 " To-morrow ah'll smash t' face in upon his 
 head." 
 
 '' Ye will not. Dearsley's a jool av a 
 man. Afther Orth'ris had put me into the 
 palanquin an' the six bearer-men were 
 gruntin' down the road, I tuk thought to 
 mock Dearsley for that fight. So I tould 
 thim : * Go to the embankment,' 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 of the tongue comes on me. I can 
 bare remimber tellin' him that his mouth 
 opened endways like the mouth of a skate, 
 which was thrue afther Learoyd had han- 
 dled ut; an' I clear remimber his taking no 
 manner nor matter of offense, but givin* 
 me a big dhrink of beer. 'Twas the beer 
 that 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' 
 poundin' an' rattlin' such as was quite new 
 to me. * Mother av mercy,' thinks I,
 
 Incarnation of Mulvaney 1 8 1 
 
 * phwat a concertina I will have on my 
 shoulders whin I wake!' An' wid that I 
 curls myself up to sleep before ut should 
 get hould on me. Bhoys, that noise was 
 not dhrink, 'twas the rattle av a train ! " 
 
 There followed an impressive pause. 
 
 " Yes, he had put me on a thrain — put 
 me, palanquin an' all, an' six black assas- 
 sins av his own coolies that was in his 
 nefarious confidence, on the flat av a bal- 
 last-truck, and we were rowlin' and bowlin' 
 along to Benares. Glory be that I did not 
 wake up then an' introjuce myself to the 
 coolies. As I was sayin', I slept for the 
 better part av a day an' a night. But re- 
 mimber you, that that man Dearsley had 
 packed me off on one av his material 
 thrains to Benares, all for to make me over- 
 stay my leave an' get me into the cells." 
 
 The explanation was an eminently ra- 
 tional one. Benares was 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. Dears- 
 ley 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 medi- 
 tated evil for Dearsley. Mulvaney con- 
 tinued : " Whin I was full awake, the
 
 1 82 Mine Own People 
 
 palanquin was set down in a street, I sus- 
 picioned, for I could hear people passin' 
 and talkin'. But I knew well I was far 
 from home. There is a queer smell upon 
 our cantonments — smell av dried earth 
 and brick-kilns wid whiffs av a cavalry 
 stable-Htter. This place smelt marigold 
 flowers an' bad water, an' wanst somethin' 
 alive came an' blew heavy with his muzzle 
 at the chink of the shutter. * It's in a vil- 
 lage I am,' thinks I to myself, ' an' the 
 parochial buftalo is investigatin' the palan- 
 quin.' But anyways I had no desire to 
 move. Only lie still whin you're in for- 
 eign parts, an' the standin' luck av the 
 British army will carry ye through. That 
 is an epigram. I made ut. 
 
 " Thin a lot av whisperin' devils sur- 
 rounded the palanquin. ' Take ut up,' says 
 wan man. * But who'll pay us?' says an- 
 other. ' The Maharanee's minister, av 
 course,' sez the man. * Oho! * sez I to my- 
 self; ' 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 struck.' 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
 
 Incarnation of Mulvaney 183 
 
 all the palanquins ours was the most impe- 
 rial an' magnificent. Now, a palanquin 
 means a native lady all the world over, ex- 
 cept whin a soldier av the quane happens 
 to be takin' a ride. 'Women an' priest! * 
 sez I. ' Your father's son is in the right 
 pew this time, Terence. There will be pro- 
 ceedin's.' Six black devils in pink muslin 
 tuk up the palanquin, an' oh! but the 
 rowlin' an' the rockin' made me sick. Thin 
 we got fair jammed among the palanqums 
 ' — not more than fifty av them — an' v^ie 
 grated an' bumped like Queenstown pota- 
 to-sacks in a runnin' tide. I cud hear the 
 women giglin' and squirmin' in their palan- 
 quins, but mine was the royal equipage. 
 They made way for ut, an', begad, the pink 
 muslin men o' mxine were howlin', ' Room 
 for the Maharanee av Gokral-Seetarun.* 
 Do you know av the lady, sorr? " 
 
 " Yes," said I. *' She is a very estima- 
 ble old queen of the Central India 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 men. They saw the palanquin 
 lying loneful an' forlornsome, an' the 
 beauty of ut, after Dearsley's men had 
 dhropped ut an' gone away, an' they gave ut 
 the best name that occurred to thim. Quite 
 right too. For aught we know, the old lady
 
 184 Mine Own People 
 
 was travel in' incog. — like me. Vm glad to 
 hear she's fat. I was no light-weight my- 
 self, an' my men were mortial anxious to 
 dhrop me under a great big archway pro- 
 miscuously ornamented wid the most im- 
 proper carvin's an' cuttin's I iver saw. 
 Begad! they made me blush — hke a 
 maharanee." 
 
 " The temple of the Prithi-Devi," I mur- 
 mured, remembering the monstrous hor- 
 rors of that sculptured archway at Benares. 
 
 *' Pretty Devilskins, savin' your presence, 
 sorr. There was nothin' pretty about ut, 
 except me! '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 dharker place yet — a big 
 stone hall full av pillars an' gods an' in- 
 cense an' all manner av similar thruck. 
 The gate disconcerted me, for I perceived 
 I wud have to go forward to get out, my 
 retreat bein' cut ofif. By the same token, 
 a good priest makes a bad palanquin- 
 coolie. Begad! they nearly turned me in- 
 side out dragging 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 favor of Providence on the far left flank 
 behind the dhark av a pillar carved with 
 elephants' heads. The remainder av the
 
 Incarnation of Mulvaney 185 
 
 palanquins was in a big half circle facing 
 into the biggest, fattest, and 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 av all the palanquins slid back, 
 an' the women bundled out. I saw what 
 I'll never see again. 'Twas more glorious 
 than transformations at a pantomime, for 
 they was in pink, an' blue, an' silver, an' 
 red, an' grass-green, wid diamonds, an' 
 imeralds, an' great red rubies. I never saw 
 the like, an' I never will again." 
 
 *' Seeing that in all probability you were 
 Vv'atching the wives and daughters of most 
 of the kings of India, the chances are that 
 you won't," I said, for it was dawning upon 
 m.e that Mulvaney had stumbled upon a big 
 queen's praying at Benares. 
 
 " I niver will," he said, mournfully. 
 ''That sight doesn't come twict to any 
 man. It made me ashamed to watch. A 
 fat priest knocked at m.y door. I didn't 
 think he'd have the insolence to disturb the 
 Maharanee av Gokral-Seetarun, so I lay 
 still. * The old cow's asleep,' sez he to an- 
 other. * Let her be,' sez that. * 'Twill be
 
 1 86 Mine Own People 
 
 long before she has a calf!' I might ha' 
 known before he spoke that all a woman 
 prays for in Injia — an' for the matter o' 
 that in England too — is childher. That 
 made me more sorry I'd come, me bein', 
 as you well know, a childless man. 
 
 " 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 of the she-god's 
 knees, they cried out, an' they threw them- 
 selves about, an' that world-without-end- 
 amen music was dhrivin' thim mad. 
 Mother av Hiven! how they cried, an' the 
 ould she-god grinnin' above them all so 
 scornful! 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 man- 
 ner of nonsense as well. The women 
 were rockin' in rows, their di'mond 
 belts clickin', an' the tears runnin' out be- 
 tune their hands, an' the lights were goin' 
 lower and 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' myself worked on the linin'. 
 This man here, it was." 
 
 He hunted in the folds of his pink cloak, 
 ran a hand under one, and thrust into the
 
 Incarnation of Mul van ey 187 
 
 fire-light a foot-long embroidered present- 
 ment of the great god Krishna playing on 
 a flute. The heavy jowl, the staring eyes, 
 and the blue-black mustache of the god 
 made up a far-off resemblance to Mul- 
 vaney. 
 
 " The blaze was gone in a wink, but the 
 whole schame came to me thin. I believe 
 I was mad, too. I slid the ofif-shutter open 
 an' rowled out into the dhark behind the 
 elephant-head pillar, tucked up miy trousies 
 to my knee, slipped ofif my boots, and took 
 a general hould av all the pink linin' av the 
 palanquin. Glory be, ut ripped out like a 
 woman's driss when you thread on ut at a 
 Sargent's 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 kettle-drums, an' a cowld 
 draft blowin' round my bare legs. By this 
 hand that did ut, I was Krishna tootlin' on 
 the flute — the god that the rig'mental 
 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 T 
 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 at the rig'mental
 
 I 88 Mine Own People 
 
 theater many times, an' slid across the tem- 
 ple in front av the she-god, tootlin' on the 
 beer-bottle." 
 
 " Wot did you toot? " demanded 
 Ortheris. 
 
 "Me? Oh!" Mulvaney sprung up, 
 suiting the action to the word, and sliding 
 gravely in front of us, a dilapidated deity 
 in the half light. " I sung: 
 
 " ' Only say 
 
 You'll be Mrs. Brallaghan, 
 Don't say nay, 
 Cnarmin' Juley Callaghan.' 
 
 I didn't know my own voice when I sung. 
 An' oh! 'twas pitiful to see the women. 
 The darlin's were down on their faces. 
 V/hin I passed the last wan I could see 
 her poor little fingers workin' one in an- 
 other as if she wanted to touch my feet. 
 So I threw the tail of this pink overcoat 
 over her head for the greater honor, an' 
 slid into the dhark on the other side of 
 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!' sez I. 'Which way, ye fat 
 heathen?' 'Oh!* sez he. 'Man,' sez L 
 ' White man, soldier man, common soldier 
 man. Where is the back door?' 'This 
 way,' sez my fat friend, duckin' behind a 
 big bull-god an' divin' into a passage.
 
 Incarnation of Mulvaney 189 
 
 Thin I remimbered that I must ha' made 
 the miraculous reputation of 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 took 
 him by the back av the neck in case he 
 should be wishful to put a knife into me un- 
 beknownst, an' I ran him up an' down the 
 passage twice to collect his sensibilities. 
 ' Be quiet/ sez he, in English. ' Xow you 
 talk sense,' I sez. ' Fhwat'll you give me 
 for the use of that most iligant palanquin 
 I have no time to take away?' 'Don't 
 teh,' 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 ser- 
 vice.' Bhoys, 'tis a good thing to be a 
 priest. The ould man niver throubled 
 himself to draw from a bank. As I will 
 prove to you subsequint, he philandered all 
 round the slack av his clothes and 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 av 'im. 'Tain't 
 nature." 
 
 " Then my lie an' my sunstroke is con- 
 cealed under that lump av sod yonder,'* 
 retorted Mulvaney, unruffled, nodding 
 across the scrub. " An' there's a dale more
 
 J 90 Mine Own People 
 
 in nature than your squidgy little legs have 
 iver taken you to, Orth'ris, me son. Four 
 hundred and thirty-four rupees by my 
 reckonin', an^ a big fat gold necklace that 
 I took from him as a remimbrancer." 
 
 *' An' 'e give it to you for love? " said 
 Ortheris. 
 
 *' We were alone in that passage. Maybe 
 I was a trifle too pressin', but considher 
 fwhat I had done for the good av the tem- 
 ple and the iverlastin' joy av those women, 
 'Twas cheap at the price. I would ha* 
 taken more if I could ha' found it. 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 myself 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, lyin' 
 up by day." 
 
 '* How on earth did you manage? " I 
 said. 
 
 " How did Sir Frederick Roberts get 
 from Cabul to Candahar? He marched, 
 an' he niver told how near he was to 
 breakin' down. That's why he is phwat
 
 Incarnation of Mulvaney 191 
 
 he is. An' now " — Mulvaney yawned 
 portentously — " now I will go and give 
 myself up for absince widout leave. It's 
 eight-an'-twenty days an' the rough end of 
 the colonel's tongue in orderly-room, any 
 way you look at ut. But 'tis cheap at the 
 price." 
 
 " Mulvaney," said I, softly, " if there hap- 
 pens 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 — " 
 
 " Not a word more, sorr. Is ut excuses 
 the ould man wants? 'Tis not my way, 
 but he shall have thim." And he flapped 
 his way to cantonments, singing lustily: 
 
 '* So they sent a corp'ril's file, 
 And they put me m the guyard room, 
 For conducJi unbecomin' of a soldier." 
 
 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 insensible on 
 a villager's cot for untold hours, and be- 
 tween laughter and good-will the affair was 
 smoothed over, so that he could next day 
 teach the new recruits how to " fear God, 
 honor the queen, shoot straight, and keep 
 clean."
 
 THE MAN WHO WAS 
 
 Let it be clearly understood tl:at the 
 Russian is a delightful person till he tucks 
 his shirt in. As an Oriental he is charm- 
 ing. It is only when he insists upon beir.g 
 treated as the most easterly of Western pe-> 
 pies, instead oi the most westerly of East- 
 erns, that he becomes a racial anomaly ex- 
 tremely 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 Russians, as he sai 1 — • /. : a--; rarr 1 
 to £:et his bread bv ser-ooo loe :z:.r :,.', :,:'. 
 
 name :oa: v.as ::e-.er :■ ::r o 
 was a hanas:n:e ;":u:;o ' .". 
 taste for wandering : l.r: ;o 
 portions of the ear::., a:.: / ; 
 dia from nowhere ::: 7:1::::. 
 no living man ciuli a5:e:::. 
 was bv wav of Balk a. 3.:R:1:1 
 Beloochistan, Xepaul. or a.: 
 
 13:2
 
 The Man Who Was 193 
 
 The Indian government, being in an un- 
 usually affable mood, gave orders that he 
 was to be civilly treated, and shown every- 
 thing that was to be seen; so he drifted, 
 talking bad English and worse French, 
 from one city to another till he foregath- 
 ered with her Majesty's White Hussars in 
 the city of Peshawur, which stands at the 
 mouth of that narrow sword-cut in the hills 
 that men call the Khyber Pass. He was 
 undoubtedly an officer, and he was deco- 
 rated, after the manner of the Russians, 
 with little enameled crosses, and he could 
 talk, and (though this has nothing to do 
 with his merits) he had been given up as a 
 hopeless task or case by the Black Tyrones, 
 who, individually and collectively, with hot 
 whisky and honey, mulled brandy and 
 mixed drinks of all kinds, had striven in 
 all hospitality to make him drunk. And 
 when the Black Tyrones, who are exclu- 
 sively Irish, fail to disturb the peace of 
 head of a foreigner, that foreigner is cer- 
 tain to be a superior man. This was the 
 argument of the Black Tyrones, but they 
 were ever an unruly and self-opinionated 
 regiment, and they allowed junior subal- 
 terns of four years' service to choose their 
 wines. The spirits were always purchased 
 by the colonel and a committee of majors. 
 And a regiment that would so behave may 
 be respected but can not be loved.
 
 194 Mine Own People 
 
 The White Hussars were as conscien- 
 tious in choosing their wine as in charg- 
 ing the enemy. There was a brandy that 
 had been purchased by a cultured colonel 
 a few years after the battle of Waterloo. It 
 has been maturing ever since, and it was 
 a marvelous brandy at the purchasing. 
 The memory of that liquor would cause 
 men to weep as they lay dying in the teak 
 forests of Upper Burmah or the slime of 
 the Irrawaddy. And there was a port 
 v.'hich v/as notable; and there was a cham- 
 pagne of an obscure brand, which always 
 came to mess without any labels, because 
 the White Hussars wished none to know 
 where the source of supply might be found. 
 The officer on whose head the champagne- 
 choosing lay was forbidden the use of to- 
 bacco for six weeks previous to sampling. 
 
 This particularity of detail is necessary 
 to emphasize the fact that that champagne, 
 that port, and, above all, that brandy — 
 the green and yellow and white liqueurs did 
 not count — was placed at the absolute dis- 
 position 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 
 — " j\Iy dear true friends," " Fellow-soldiers 
 glorious," and " Brothers inseparable." He 
 would unburden himself by the hour on
 
 The Man Who Was 195 
 
 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 civil- 
 izing Asia should begin. That was unsat- 
 isfactory, because Asia is not going to be 
 civilized, after the methods of the West. 
 There is too much Asia, and she is too old. 
 You can not reform a lady of many lovers, 
 and Asia has been insatiable in her flirta- 
 tions 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 special-cor- 
 respondently and to make himself as genial 
 as he could. Now and then he volunteered 
 a little, a very little, information about his 
 own Sotnia of Cossacks, left apparently to 
 look after themselves somewhere at the 
 back of beyond. He had done rough work 
 in Central Asia, and had seen rather more 
 help-yourself 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 organization of her Majesty's 
 White Hussars. And, indeed, they were 
 a regiment to be admired. When Mrs. 
 Durgan, widow of the late Sir John Dur- 
 gan, arrived in their station, and after a 
 short time had been proposed to by every
 
 196 Mine Own People 
 
 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 who were already mar- 
 ried, she was not going to content herself 
 with one of them. 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-Holm.er, the senior 
 captain, to Little Mildred, the last subal- 
 tern, and he could have given her four 
 thousand a year and a title. He was a vis- 
 count, and on his arrival the mess had said 
 he had better go into the Guards, because 
 they were all sons of large grocers and 
 small clothiers in the Hussars, but Mildred 
 begged very hard to be allowed to stay, and 
 behaved so prettily that he was forgiven, 
 and became a man, which is much more 
 important than being any sort of viscount. 
 The only persons who did not share the 
 general regard for the White Hussars were 
 a few thousand gentlemen of Jewish extrac- 
 tion who lived across the border, and an- 
 swered to the name of Pathan. They had 
 only met the regiment officially, and for 
 something less than twenty minutes, but
 
 The Man Who Was 197 
 
 the interview, which was compHcated with 
 many casualties, had filled them with preju- 
 dice. 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 car- 
 bines, beautiful Martini-Henry carbines, 
 that would cob 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 dem.and inevitably breeds supply, 
 they were supplied at the risk of life and 
 limb for exactly their weight in coined sil- 
 ver — seven and one half pounds of rupees, 
 or sixteen pounds and a few shillings each, 
 reckoning the rupee at par. They were 
 stolen at night by snaky-haired thieves that 
 crawled on their stomachs under the nose 
 of the sentries; they disappeared mys- 
 teriously from arm-racks; and in the hot 
 weather, when all the doors and windows 
 were open, they vanished like puffs of their 
 own smoke. The border people desired 
 them first for their own family vendettas, 
 and then for contingencies. But in the 
 long cold nights of the Northern Indian 
 winter they were stolen most extensively. 
 The traffic of murder was liveliest among 
 the hills at that season, and prices ruled
 
 198 Mine Own People 
 
 high. The regimental guards were first 
 doubled and then trebled. A trooper does 
 not much care if he loses a weapon — gov- 
 ernment must make it good — but he 
 (leepiy resents the loss of his sleep. The 
 regiment grew very angry, and one night- 
 thief who managed to limp away bears the 
 visible marks of their anger upon him to 
 this hour. That incident stopped the bur- 
 glaries for a time, and the guards were re- 
 duced accordingly, and the regiment de- 
 voted 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. 
 
 Then they gave a dinner to celebrate the 
 event. The Lushkar team came, and 
 Birkovitch 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 re- 
 garded them. They were lighter men 
 than the Hussars, and they carried them- 
 selves 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 learned; but, unlike 
 many things, it is never forgotten, and re- 
 mains on the bodv till death.
 
 The Man Who Was 199 
 
 The great beam-roofed mess-room of the 
 White Hussars was a sight to be remem- 
 bered. All the mess-plate was on the long 
 table — the same table that had served up 
 the bodies of five dead officers in a forgot- 
 ten fight long and long ago — the dingy, 
 battered standards faced the door of en- 
 trance, clumps of winter roses lay between 
 the silver candlesticks, the portraits of em- 
 inent officers deceased looked down on 
 their successors from between the heads of 
 sambhur, nilghai, maikhor, and, pride of 
 ail 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 on ledge, snow-slide, 
 and glassy grass-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, but his big 
 onyx eyes made up for it. He was frater- 
 nizing effusively with the captain of the 
 Lushkar team, who was wondering how 
 many of Dirkovitch's Cossacks his own 
 long, lathy down-countrymen could ac-
 
 200 Mine Own People 
 
 count for in a fair charge. But one does 
 not speak of these things openly. 
 
 The talk rose higher and higher, and 
 the regimental 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 the colonel, ris- 
 ing, 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 
 supposed to pay their mess-bills. That sac- 
 rament of the mess never grows old, and 
 never ceases to bring a lump into the throat 
 of the listener wherever he be, by land or 
 by sea. Dirkovitch rose with his " brothers 
 glorious," but he could not understand. 
 No one but an officer can understand what 
 the toast means; and the bulk have more 
 sentiment than comprehension. It all 
 comes to the same in the end, as the enemy 
 said when he was wriggling on a lance- 
 point. 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 alien, but he came in at dessert, all 
 six feet of him, with the blue-and-silver tur- 
 ban atop and the big black top-boots below.
 
 The Man Who Was 201 
 
 The mess rose joyously as he thrust for- 
 ward the hilt of his Gc ber, in token of fealty, 
 for the colonel of t le White Hussars to 
 touch, and dropped into a vacant chair 
 amid shouts of ''Rung ho! Hira Singh!" 
 (which being translated means '' Go in and 
 win! "). " Did I whack you over the knee, 
 old man?" " Ressaidar Sahib, what the 
 devil made you play that kicking pig of a 
 pony in the last ten minutes? " " Shabash, 
 Ressaidar Sahib!" 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 regi- 
 ment, much honor have you done me. 
 This will I remember. We came down 
 from afar to play you ; but we Vv'ere beaten." 
 ('' No fault of yours, Ressaidar Sahib. 
 Played on your own ground, y' know. 
 Your ponies were cramped from the rail- 
 way. Don't apologize.") " Therefore per- 
 haps we will come again if it be so 
 ordained." (" Hear! Hear, hear, indeed! 
 Bravo ! H'sh ! ") " 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
 
 202 Mine Own People 
 
 sword-hilt, and his eye wandered to Dirko= 
 vitch lolling back in ' is chair. " But if by 
 the will of God there irises any other game 
 which is not the pcio game, then be as- 
 sured, Colonel Sahil and officers, that we 
 shall play it out side by side, though they " 
 — again his eye sought Dirkovitch — 
 " though they, I say, have fifty ponies to 
 our one horse." And with a deep-mouthed 
 Rung ho! that rang like a musket-butt on 
 flag-stones, he sat down amid shoutings; 
 
 Dirkovitch, who had devoted himself 
 steadily to the brandy — the terrible 
 brandy aforementioned — did not under- 
 stand, nor did the expurgated translations 
 offered to him at all convey the point. De- 
 cidedly the native officer's was the speech 
 of the evening, and the clamor 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 defenseless 
 left side. It is notable that Dirkovitch 
 " reached back," after the American fash- 
 ion — a gesture that set the captain of the 
 Lushkar team wondering how Cossack ofii- 
 cers were armed at mess. Then there was 
 a scuffle and a yell of pain. 
 
 " Carbine-stealing again! " said the adju- 
 tant, calmly sinking back in his chair. 
 " This comes of reducing the guards. I 
 hope the sentries have killed him." 
 
 The feet of armed men pounded on the
 
 The Man Who Was 203 
 
 veranda flags, and it sounded as though 
 something was being dragged. 
 
 ** Why don't they put liim in the cells 
 till the morning? " said the colonel, testily. 
 *' See if they've damaged him, sergeant." 
 
 The mess-sergeant fled out into the dark- 
 ness, and returned with two troopers and 
 a corporal, all very much perplexed. 
 
 ** Caught a man stealin' carbines, sir," 
 said the corporal " Leastways 'e was 
 crawlin' toward the barricks, sir, past the 
 main-road sentries; an' the sentry 'e says, 
 sir—" 
 
 The limp heap of rags upheld by the 
 three men groaned. Never was seen so 
 destitute and demoralized an Afghan. He 
 was turbanless, shoeless, 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 
 liqueur glass of brandy. 
 
 " What does the sentry say? " said the 
 colonel. 
 
 " Sez he speaks English, sir," said the 
 corporal. 
 
 *' So you brought him into mess instead 
 of handing him over to the sergeant! If 
 he spoke all the tongues of the Pentecost, 
 youVe no business — " 
 
 Again the bundle groaned and muttered. 
 Little Mildred had risen from his place to
 
 204 Mine Own People 
 
 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-bownd 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 cor- 
 poral, seeing that an officer was disposed 
 to look after the capture, and that the 
 colonel's eye was beginning to blaze, 
 promptly lemoved himself and his men. 
 The mess was left alone with the carbine 
 thief, who laid his head on the table and 
 wept bitterly, hopelessly, and inconsolably, 
 as little children weep. 
 
 Hira Singh leaped to his feet with a 
 long-drawn vernacular oath. " Colonel 
 Sahib," said he, " that man is no Afghan, 
 for they weep ' Ai! AH* Nor is he of 
 Hindoostan, for they weep ' Oh! Ho! ' He 
 weeps after the fashion of the white men, 
 who say ' Ow! Ow! ' " 
 
 *' 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.
 
 The Man Who Was 205 
 
 " He said, ' My God! ' '[ said Little Mil- 
 dred. ** I 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, or her lips, or 
 anywhere else, but a man cries from his 
 diaphragm, and it rends him to pieces. 
 Also, the exhibition causes the throat of 
 the on-looker to close at the top. 
 
 " Poor devil ! " said the colonel, cough- 
 ing tremendously. " We ought to send 
 him to hospital. He's been mishandled." 
 
 Now the adjutant loved his rifles. They 
 were to him as his grandchildren — the men 
 standing in the first place. He grunted re- 
 belliously: "I can understand an Afghan 
 stealing, because he's made that way. But 
 I can't understand his crying. That makes 
 It worse." 
 
 The brandy must have affected Dirko- 
 vitch, 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 can- 
 dles were lighted. It never disturbed the 
 digestion of the White Hussars. They 
 were, in fact, rather proud of it. 
 
 " Is he going to cry all night," said the 
 colonel, " or are we supposed to sit up with
 
 go6 Mine Own People 
 
 Little Mildred's guest until he feels 
 better?" 
 
 The man in the chair threw up his head 
 and stared at the mess. Outside, the 
 wheels of the first of those bidden to the 
 festivities crunched the roadway. 
 
 '' Oh, my God! " said the man in the 
 chair, 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 gallan- 
 try in a fight against overwhelming curi- 
 osity. 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 the team 
 into the veranda and the gardens. Hira 
 Singh was the last, and he looked at Dirko- 
 vitch as he moved. 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 perni- 
 cious 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 
 coloners face. Little Mildred, who was
 
 The Man Who Was 207 
 
 always more of a woman than a man til! 
 " 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 Hus- 
 sars' champagne with the Hussars' brandy 
 by five and eight glasses of each without 
 remembering the pit whence he has been 
 digged and descended thither. The band 
 began to play the tune with which the 
 White Hussars, from the date of their for- 
 mation, preface all their functions. They 
 would sooner be disbanded than abandon 
 that tune. It is a part of their syst-em. 
 The man straightened himself in his chair 
 and drummed on the table with his fingers. 
 
 " I don't see why we should entertain 
 lunatics," said the colonel; ''call a guard 
 and send him ofi" 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 himself 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,
 
 2o8 Mine Own People 
 
 which converted what was a seven-' 
 branched candlestick, three springs 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 pic- 
 ture on the wall, then moved on to another 
 picture, the mess watching him without a 
 word. When he came to the mantel-piece 
 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 mantel-piece, 
 with inquiry in his eyes. 
 
 " What is it — oh, what is it? " said Lit- 
 tle 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, 
 passionless guttural: "Yes, I — have seen. 
 But — where is the horse?" 
 
 He 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 no saying what happened after 
 that. There is but one horse in the White 
 Hussars, and his portrait hangs outside the 
 door of the mess-room. He is the piebald
 
 The Man Who Was 209 
 
 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 mantel-piece; it clat- 
 tered on the ledge, as his poor hands 
 dropped it, and he staggered toward the 
 bottom of the table, falling into Mildred's 
 chair. The band began to play the " River 
 of Years " waltz, and the laughter from the 
 gardens came into the tobacco-scented 
 mess-room. But nobody, even the young- 
 est, was thinking of waltzes. They all 
 spoke to one another something after this 
 fashion: *' The drum-horse hasn't hung 
 over the mantel-piece since '(yyT " 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 to- 
 gether! " " It isn't possible, anyhow. The 
 man's a lunatic." 
 
 Little Mildred stood at the colonel's side 
 talking into his ear. " Will you be good 
 enough to take your seats, please, gentle- 
 men?" 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.
 
 21 o Mine Own People 
 
 The wide-eyed 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, with- 
 out 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 in a few messes to drink the 
 queen's toast in broken glass, to the huge 
 delight of the mess contractors. The cus- 
 tom 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. 
 
 " 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. Small wonder that the ragged, fil- 
 thy invader could only smile and shake 
 his head. 
 
 From under the table, calm and smiling 
 urbanely, rose Dirkovitch, who had been 
 roused from healthful slumber by feet upon
 
 The Man Who Was 21 1 
 
 his body. By the side of the man he rose, 
 and the man shrieked and groveled at his 
 feet. 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 
 clothing 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." 
 
 "What's that?" said everybody to- 
 gether. 
 
 " 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 
 there rose an unpleasant growl round the 
 table. 
 
 " How can I tell? " said the affable Ori- 
 ental, with a sweet smile. " He is a — how
 
 212 Mine Own People 
 
 you have it? — escape — runaway, from 
 over ther^." 
 
 He nodded toward 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 Dirko- 
 vitch should sip brandy as he talked in 
 purring, spitting Russian to the creature 
 who answered so feebly and with such evi- 
 dent dread. But since Dirkovitch appeared 
 to understand, no man said a word. They 
 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. Petersburg and 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 dis- 
 tinguished regiment in the war." 
 
 ''The rolls! The rolls! Holmer, get 
 the rolls! " said Little Mildred, and the ad- 
 jutant dashed of¥ bareheaded to the order- 
 ly-room where the rolls of the regiment 
 were kept. He returned just in time to 
 hear Dirkovitch conclude: "Therefore I 
 am most sorry to say there was an acci- 
 dent, which would have been reparable if
 
 The Man Who Was 2 1 3 
 
 he had apologized to that our colonel, 
 which he had insulted." 
 
 Another growl, which the colonel tried 
 to beat down. The mess was in no mood 
 to weigh insults to Russian colonels just 
 then. 
 
 " He does not remember, but I think that 
 there was an accident, and so he was not 
 exchanged among the prisoners, but he 
 w^as 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 can not un- 
 derstand 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 acci- 
 dent; done because he did not apologize to 
 that our colonel. Ah! " 
 
 Instead of echoing Dirkovitch's sigh of 
 regret, it is sad to record that the White 
 Hussars livelily exhibited unchristian de- 
 light 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 
 atop of these. 
 
 " Steady ! Fifty-six — fifty-five — fifty- 
 four," said Holmer. " Here we are. 
 ' Lieutenant Austin Limmason — missmgj'
 
 214 Mine Own People 
 
 That was before Sebastopol. What an in- 
 fernal shanie! Insulted one of their colo- 
 nels, and was quietly shipped off. Thirty 
 years of his life wiped out." 
 
 " But he never apologized. Said he'd 
 see him first," chorused the mess. 
 
 " Poor devil ! I suppose he never had 
 the chance afterward. 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 
 — Lieutenant Limmason, of the White 
 Hussars? " 
 
 Swift as a shot came the answer, in a 
 slightly surprised tone: *' Yes, I'm Lim- 
 mason, of course." The light died out in 
 his eyes, and he collapsed afresh, watching 
 every motion of Dirkovitch with terror. 
 A flight from Siberia may fix a few ele- 
 mentary facts in the mind, but it does not 
 lead to continuity of thought. The man 
 could not explain how, like a homing pig- 
 eon, he had found his way to his 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 drum-horse, and 
 answered to the queen's toast. The rest
 
 The Man Who Was 215 
 
 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. 
 
 The devil that lived in the brandy 
 prompted Dirkovitch at this extremely in- 
 opportune moment to make a speech. He 
 rose, swaying slightly, gripped the table- 
 edge, while his eyes glowed like opals, and 
 began : 
 
 '* 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 the 
 Slav who has done nothing, him I believe. 
 Seventy — how much? — millions that have 
 done nothing — not one thing. 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 away! " 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-sol- 
 diers so brave — so will you be. But you
 
 21 6 Mine Own People 
 
 will never come back. You will all go 
 w^iere he is gone, or — " he pointed to the 
 great coffin shadow on the ceiling, and mut- 
 tering, " Seventy millions — get away, you 
 old people," fell asleep. 
 
 " Sweet, and to the point," said Little 
 Mildred. '' What's the use of getting 
 wroth? Let's make the poor devil 
 comfortable." 
 
 But that was a matter suddenly and 
 swiftly taken from the loving hands of the 
 White Hussars. The lieutenant had re- 
 turned 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, that saw no gap in the 
 table, an ofhcer of the regiment had re- 
 signed his new-found commission. 
 
 And Dirkovitch — bland, supple, and 
 always genial — vrent away too by a night 
 train. Little IMildred and another saw him 
 off, for he was the guest of the mess, and 
 even had he sm.itten the colonel with the 
 open hand, the law of the mess allowed no 
 relaxation of hospitality. 
 
 ** Good-bye, Dirkovitch, and a pleasant 
 journey," said Little Mildred. 
 
 "An revoiVy my true friends," said the 
 Russian. 
 
 "Indeed! But we thought you were 
 going home? " 
 
 *' Yes ; but I will come again. My
 
 The Man Who Was 217 
 
 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 Hke. 
 Got everything you want — cheroots, ice, 
 bedding? That's all right. Well, au re- 
 voir, Dirkovitch." 
 
 '' Um," said the other man, as the tail- 
 lights of the train grew small. '' Of — all 
 — the — unmitigated — " 
 
 Little Mildred answered nothing, but 
 watched the north star, and hummed a 
 selection from a recent burlesque that had 
 much delighted the White Hussars. It 
 ran: 
 
 '* Fm 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."
 
 On Greenhow Hill
 
 ON GREENHOW HILL 
 
 " Ohe ahmed din / Shafiz Ullah ahoo f 
 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 I Come 
 out to me ! " 
 
 The deserter from a native corps was 
 crawling round the outskirts of the camp, 
 firing at intervals, and shouting invitations to 
 his old comrades. Misled by the rain and the 
 darkness, he came to the English wing of the 
 camp, and with his yelping and rifle practise 
 disturbed the men. They had been making 
 roads all day, and were tired. 
 
 Ortheris was sleeping at Learoyd's feet. 
 *' 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 Aurang- 
 abadis," said Ortheris. " Git up, some one, 
 an' tell 'em 'e's come to the wrong shop." 
 
 " Go to sleep, little man," said Mulvaney, 
 who was steaming nearest the door. " I 
 can't rise an' expaytiate with him. 'Tis 
 rainin' intrenchin' tools outside." 
 
 221
 
 222 On Greenhow Hill 
 
 " 'Tain't because you bloomin' can*t. It's 
 cause you bloomin' won't, ye long, limp, lousy, 
 lazy beggar you. 'Ark to 'im 'owling ! " 
 
 " Wot's the good of argyfying ? Put a 
 bullet into the swine ? 'E's keepin' us 
 awake ! " 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. 
 " 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." 
 
 Ortheris considered for a moment. Then, 
 putting his head under the tent wall, he called, 
 as a 'bus conductor calls in a block, " 'Igher 
 up, there ! 'Igher up ! " 
 
 The men laughed, and the laughter was 
 carried down wind to the deserter, who, hear- 
 ing that he had made a mistake, went off to 
 worry his own regiment half a mile away. He 
 was received with shots, for the Aurangabadis 
 v\'ere very angry with him for disgracing their 
 colors. 
 
 " An' that's all right," said Ortheris, with- 
 drawing his head as he heard the hiccough of 
 the Sniders in the distance. " S'elp me 
 Gawd, tho', that man's not fit t( 
 with my beauty-sleep this way.'
 
 On Greenhow Hill 
 
 223 
 
 " 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 ex- 
 cept the rain on the canvas and the all-em- 
 bracing and elemental snoring of Learoyd. 
 
 The camp lay on a bare ridge of the Him- 
 alayas, 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 sunshine and cleaned their grimy accouter- 
 ments. The native regiment was to take its 
 turn of road-making that day while the Old 
 Regiment loafed. 
 
 " I'm goin' to lay fer a shot at that man," 
 said Ortheris, when he had finished washing 
 out his rifle. " 'E comes up the water-course 
 every evenin' about five o'clock. If we go 
 and lie out on the north 'ill a bit this after- 
 noon we'll get 'im." 
 
 " You're a bloodthirsty little mosquito,'* 
 said Mulvaney, blowing blue clouds into the 
 air. " 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 detachmicnt
 
 224 On Greenhow Hill 
 
 of picked shots, generally employed in clear- 
 ing 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 .'' " 
 
 " No. The pig went away mocking us. I 
 had one shot at him," said a private. " He's 
 my cousin, and / ought to have cleared our 
 dishonor. 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 ever}^ night before turn- 
 ing in. Charges and scuffles he held in con- 
 tempt, 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-needle slope that commanded a 
 clear view of the water-course and si brown bare 
 hillside beyond it. The trees made a scented
 
 On Greenhow Hill 225 
 
 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 water-course, '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. 
 
 " This is something like," he said, luxuri- 
 ously. " Wot a 'evinly clear drop for a bullet 
 acrost. How much d' you make it, Mul- 
 vaney ? " 
 
 " Seven hunder. Maybe a trifle less, bekase 
 the air's so thin." 
 
 Wop / wop ! wop ! went a volley of mus- 
 ketry on the rear face of the north hill. 
 
 " Curse them Mixed Pickles firin' at nothin' X 
 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 ! " 
 
 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 enough ! " said Ortheris, snapping 
 the scale down. " You snick your sights to 
 mine, or a little lower. You're always firii>' 
 
 15
 
 226 On Greenhovv Hill 
 
 high. But remember, first shot to me. Oh, 
 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. 
 
 " 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' ripped the hide 
 off 'un. Look at ma tunic ! " 
 
 " That's the spishil trustability av a marks- 
 man. Train him to hit a fly wid a stiddy rest 
 at seven hunder, an' he'll loose on anythin' 
 he sees or hears up to th' mile. You're vrell 
 out av that fancy-firin' 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 
 water-course lifted up its voice in the silence 
 and talked foolishly to the rocks. Now and 
 again the dull thump of a blasting charge three
 
 On Greenhow Hill 227 
 
 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, be- 
 tween the whiifs of his pipe : 
 
 " Seems queer — about 'im yonder — desertin* 
 at all." 
 
 " 'E'll be a bloomin' side queerer when I've 
 done with 'im," said Ortheris. They were 
 talking in 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 ! I make less doubt 
 ivry man has good reason for killin' him," said 
 Mulvaney. 
 
 " Happen there was a lass tewed up wi' it. 
 Men do more than more forth' sake of a lass." 
 
 " They make most av of 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' 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 
 had happened." 
 
 "An' fwhat has happened, ye lumberin^
 
 2 28 On Greenhow Hill 
 
 child av calamity, that you're lowing like a 
 cow-calf at the back av the pasture, an' sug- 
 gestin' 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 of Lo- 
 tharius Learoyd. Stanley, kape a rowlin' 
 rig'mental eye on the valley." 
 
 " It's along o' yon hill there," said Learoyd, 
 watching the bare sub-Himalayan spur that 
 reminded 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 Brigg. I reckon you've never 
 heard tell o' Greenhow Hill, but yon bit o' 
 bare stuff, if there was nobbut a white road 
 windin', is like ut, strangely like. Moors an* 
 moors — moors wi' never a tree for shelter, an' 
 gray houses wi' flag-stone 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 Greenhow 
 Hill folk by the red-apple color o' their cheeks 
 an' nose tips, an' their blue eyes, driven into 
 pin-points by the wind. Miners mostly, bur- 
 rowin' for 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-
 
 On Greenhow Hill 229 
 
 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. 
 
 " An' then yo' came to a level, where you 
 crept on your hands an' knees through a mile 
 o' windin' drift, an' you come out into a cave- 
 place as big as Leeds Town-hall, with a en- 
 gine pumpin' water from workin's '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 telhn' on I was drivin' the wagon 
 team i' the big sumph. I didn't belong to 
 that countryside by rights. I went there be- 
 cause of a little difference at home, an' at fust 
 I took up wi' a rough lot. One night we'd 
 been drinkin', and 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
 
 230 On Greenhow Hill 
 
 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 an' all, 'an 
 broke my arm. Not as I knowed much about 
 it, for I fell on th' back o' my head, an' was 
 knocked stupid like. An' when I come to 
 mysen it were mornin', an' I were lyin' on the 
 settle i' Jesse Roantree's house-place, an' 'Liza 
 Roantree was settin' sewin'. I ached all 
 ower, 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 after. 
 
 * Yo're to lie still while Doctor Warbottom 
 comes, because your arm's broken, an' 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 train.' The clock ticked an' a bee 
 comed 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 miUr 
 wheels clatterin'.' "
 
 On Greenhow Hill 233 
 
 " Faith, it's a good thing to be nursed by a 
 woman when you're sick! " said Mulvaney. 
 " Dirt 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. 
 
 " An' then Doctor Warbottom comes ridin* 
 up, an' Jesse Roantree along with 'im. He 
 was a high-larned doctor, but he talked wi* 
 poor folks same as theirsens. ' What's tha 
 bin agaate on naa ? ' he sings out. ' Brekkin 
 tha thick head ? ' An' he felt me all over. 
 * 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 had strapped me up an' given 
 me a dose 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 1 " grinned Ortheris, scanning
 
 232 On Greenhow Hill 
 
 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. ^' And that was 
 how I comed to know 'Liza Roantree. There's 
 some tunes as she used to sing — aw, she were 
 always singin' — that fetches Greenhow 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. 
 
 " 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' be- 
 ginning. It seemed I wor a soul to be saved, 
 an' he meaned to do it. At th' same time I 
 jealoused 'at he were keen o' savin' 'Liza 
 Roantree's soul as well, an' I could ha' killed 
 him many a time. An' this went on till one 
 day I broke out, an' borrowed th' brass for a
 
 On Greenhow Hill 233 
 
 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 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 doorsteps as goe^ a-drinkin', an* 
 borrows my lass's money to spend i' their drink. 
 Ho'd tha tongue, 'Liza,' sez he w^hen she 
 wanted to put in a word 'at I were welcome 
 to th' brass, an' 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 con- 
 cluded to get converted." 
 
 " Fwhat ! " 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 it stay there. I'd ha' been converted my- 
 self 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
 
 234 ^^ Greenhow Hill 
 
 didn't know yon preacher Barraclough — a 
 little white-faced chap wi' a voice as 'ud wile 
 a bird off an a 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 Roan- 
 tree — 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 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, ' Joy- 
 ful ! joyful ! ' 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 ? " 
 
 " The iverlastin ^ nature av mankind," said 
 Mulvaney. " 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 bekase
 
 On Greenhow Hill 235 
 
 she*s most remarkable regimental in her fit- 
 tings. I may die in Honolulu, Nova Zambra, 
 or Cape Cayenne, but wherever I die, me 
 bein' fwhat I am, an' a priest handy, I go un- 
 der the same orders an' the same words an' 
 the same unction as tho' the pope himself 
 come down from the dome av St. Peter's to 
 see me off. There's neither high nor low, nor 
 broad nor deep, not betwixt nor between with 
 her, an' that's what I like. But mark you, 
 she's no manner av Church for a wake man, 
 bekase 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 sheebeen above our heads for ten 
 minutes' quittance of purgathory. An' he did 
 all he could. That's why I say it takes a 
 strong man to deal with the Ould Church, an* 
 for that reason you'll find so many women go 
 there. An' that same's a conundrum." 
 
 " Wot's the use o' worritin' 'bout these 
 things ? " said Ortheris. " You're bound to 
 find all out quicker nor you want to, any'ow.'* 
 He jerked the cartridge out of the breech-lock 
 into the palm of his hand. " 'Ere's my chap- 
 lain," he said, and made the venomous black- 
 headed bullet bow like a marionette. " 'E's 
 going' to teach a man all about which is which, 
 an' wot's true, after all, before sundown. But 
 wot 'appened after that, Jock ? " 
 
 " There was one thing they boggled at, and 
 
 13
 
 236 On Greenhow Hill 
 
 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 was fightin' every dog he 
 comed 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. 
 " They said I mun give him up ' cause 'he 
 were worldly and low ; and would I let mysen 
 be shut out of heaven for the sake of a dog ? 
 
 * Nay,' says I, * if th' door isn't wide enough 
 for th' pair on us, we'll stop outside, or 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 tracks from the world, th' flesh, an' the 
 devil all av 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 tha bean to preach, 
 'cause we're comin' to hear that.' ' Ho'd tha 
 jaw ! He hasn't getten th' white choaker on 
 to morn,' another lad would say, and I had to 
 double my fists hard i' th' bottom of my Sun-
 
 On Greenhow Hill 237 
 
 day 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. 
 
 " So what wi' singin', practicin,' 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 an' th' young woman 
 were pleased to have him. He lived i' Pately 
 Brigg, 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 
 behavior, and he was that fair and open that 
 I was bound to be fair with him. Rare and 
 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. 
 
 " Aye. It's a way we have i* Yorkshire o' 
 seein' 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 toward Pately, and then he'd set me 
 back again, and there we'd be twal two i*
 
 238 
 
 On Greenhow Hill 
 
 o'clock 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 look- 
 ing at, pretending to watch the moon." 
 
 " Ah ! " broke in Mulvaney, " ye'd no 
 chanst against the maraudin' psalm-singer. 
 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 cheek. " I 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 w^astrel ne'er-do- 
 weel like me, as was scarcelins respectable, 
 and 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 as th' wind o' 
 Greenhow Hill — aye, and colder, for 'twill 
 never change. And now I come to think on 
 it, one of the 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
 
 On Greenhow Hill 239 
 
 to hear chapel folk talk yo'd think that sol- 
 dierin' were next door, an t'other side, to 
 hangin'. I' their meetin's all their talk is o' 
 fightin'. When Sammy Strother were struk 
 for summat to say in his prayers, he'd sing 
 out: ' The sword o' th' Lord and o' Gideon.* 
 They were alius at it about puttin' on th' 
 whole armor 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', rabbit-runnin', and drinkin', till 
 at last, as if 'twere a hepitaph on a grave- 
 stone, they damned him across th' moors wi* 
 it, 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 it ? " said Mulvaney, bringing 
 down his hands on his thigh with a crack. 
 " In the name av God, fwhy is it ? I've seen 
 it, 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 whats-
 
 240 
 
 On Greenhow Hill 
 
 ername they'd do if we didn't see they had a 
 quiet place to fight in. And such fightin' as 
 theirs is ! Cats 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 
 afterward — 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. 
 
 " Worse nor that. The Forders were 
 drunk. I was wearin' the queen's uni- 
 form." 
 
 " I'd not particular thought to be a soldier 
 i' them days," said Learoyd, still keeping his 
 eye on the bare hill opposite, " but his 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 me to sing the 
 bass part in a horotorio as Jesse were getting 
 up. She sung like a throstle hersen, and we 
 had practisin's night after night for a matter 
 of three months." 
 
 " I know what a horotorio is," said Orthe- 
 ris, pertly. " It's a sort of chaplain's sing- 
 song — words all out of the Bible, and hullaba- 
 loojah choruses."
 
 On Greenhow Hill 241 
 
 *' Most Greenhow Hill folks played some 
 instrument or t'other, an' they all sung so you 
 might have heard them miles away, and they 
 was 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 Satter- 
 thwaite, 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 sweatin' wi' pride, to sing the 
 tenor solos. But he were grandest i' th' 
 chorus waggin' his head, flinging his arms 
 round like a windmill, and singin' hisself 
 black in the face. A rare singer were 
 Jesse. 
 
 " Yo' see, I was not o' much account wi' 'em 
 all exceptin' to Eliza Roantree, and I had a 
 deal o' time settin' quiet at meeting and horo- 
 torio practises to hearken their talk, and if it 
 were strange to me at beginnin', it got stranger 
 still at after, when I was shut in, and could 
 study what it meaned, 
 
 " Just after th' horotorios come off, 'Liza, 
 
 as had alius been weakly like, was took very 
 
 bad. I walked Doctor Warbottom's horse up 
 
 and down a deal of times while he were inside. 
 
 16
 
 242 On Greenhow Hill 
 
 where they wouldn't let me go, though 1 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' pil- 
 lows. Then she began to mend a bit, and 
 they let me carry her on 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' the ever- 
 lastin' hills. He was 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 rale good preacher 
 if he had nobbut given his mind to it. I lent 
 him a suit o' 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 wagon. I was drivin' a tram as led up a 
 bit of an incline up to th' cave where the 
 engine was pumpin', and where th' ore was 
 brought up and put into th' wagons as went 
 down o' themselves, me puttin' th' brake on 
 and th' horses a-trottin' after. Long as it was
 
 On Greenhow Hill 243 
 
 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 downright wicked. My 
 religion dropped all away from me when 
 I looked back at him as were always comin* 
 between me and Eliza. 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 Gar- 
 stang's copperhole — a place where th' beck 
 slithered ower th' edge on a rock, and fell wi' 
 a bit of a whisper into a pit as rope i' Green- 
 how could plump." 
 
 Again Learoyd rooted up the innocent vio- 
 lets. " Aye, he should see th' bowels o' th' 
 earth an' never 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 the ladderway to th' drift where 
 Jesse Roantree was workin', 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 squashin' down the 
 shaft, breakin' his bones at ev^ry timberinyas
 
 244 ^^ Greenhow Hill 
 
 Bill Appleton did when he was fresh, and 
 hadn't a bone left when he brought to th' bot- 
 tom. 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 hillsides for his quarry, mutter- 
 ing ribaldry about a sparrow, a spout, and a 
 thunder-storm. The voice of the water-course 
 supplied the necessary small-talk till Learoyd 
 picked up his story. 
 
 " But it's none so easy to kill a man like 
 you. When I'd give up my horses to th' lad 
 as took my place, and I was showin' th* 
 preacher th' workin's, shoutin' into his ear 
 across th' clang o' th' pumpin' engines, I saw 
 he was afraid o' naught ; and when the lamp- 
 light 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 my- 
 sen : an' 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
 
 On Greenhow Hill 245 
 
 t'other on us — thee or me — for *Liza Roan- 
 tree. 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. 
 
 *' * 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. Doctor 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 ! 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 my sen. 
 
 " 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.' x\nd when we came into th* 
 daylight again we were like dead men to look
 
 246 
 
 On Greenhow Hill 
 
 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. 
 
 *' You see, I was a young chap i' them days, 
 and had seen naught o' life, let alone death, 
 as is alius a-waitin'. She telled me as Doctor 
 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 they call it, and 
 I were left alone on Greenhow Hill. 
 
 " I tried, and I tried hard, to stick to th' 
 chapel, but 'tweren't th' same thing at all 
 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. 
 
 " 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'
 
 On Greenhow Hill 247 
 
 children Vay as were clatterin' their clogs 
 in th' causeway, for she were asleep. 
 
 " ' Is it thee ? ' he says ; ' but you're not to see 
 her. I'll none have her wakened for a nowt 
 like thee. She's gcin' 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 ! * 
 So he shut the door softly i' my face. 
 
 " 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 folk came buzzin' into m}^ 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 colors flyin' — thy true colors, as I al- 
 ways telled thee'. 
 
 " But I begged and prayed of him to let me 
 see her nobbut to say good-by, till a woman 
 calls down th' stairway — she says, ' John Lea- 
 royd's to come up.' Th' old man shift 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 wast alius 
 a good lad.' 
 
 " Her eyes were alive wi' light, and her hair
 
 24.S On Greenhow Hill 
 
 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 colors. 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 wast alius my own lad — my 
 very own lad, and none else.' 
 
 " She lifted up her arms, and they came 
 round 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 down-stairs. 
 
 " Th' recruiting sergeant were waitin' for 
 me at th' corner public-house. * Yo've seen 
 your sweetheart ? ' says he. ' Yes, I've seen 
 her,* says I. * 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. * Aye, 
 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 after- 
 noon 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 business. A 
 speck of white crawled up the water-course.
 
 On Greenhow Hill 249 
 
 " 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 investi- 
 gation. 
 
 " That's a clean shot, little man," said 
 Mulvaney. 
 
 Learoyd thoughtfully watched the smoke 
 clear away. 
 
 " Happen there was a lass tewed up wi* him, 
 too," said he. Ortheris did not reply. He 
 was staring across the valley, with the smik 
 of the artist who looks on the completed work 
 For he saw that it was good.
 
 B 000 002 993 4