floor the head.  ’He will give no more trouble, for I am chief now, and so I sit in a higher place at all audiences.  Yet there is an offset to this head.  That was another fault.  One of the men found that black Bengali beast, through whom this trouble arose, wandering on horseback and weeping.  Reflecting that he had caused loss of much good life, Alla Dad Khan, whom, if you choose, I will to-morrow shoot, whipped off this head, and I bring it to you to cover your shame, that ye may bury it.  See, no man kept the spectacles, though they were of gold.’

Slowly rolled to Tallantire’s feet the crop-haired head of a spectacled Bengali gentleman, open-eyed, open-mouthed—­the head of Terror incarnate.  Bullows bent down.  ’Yet another blood-fine and a heavy one, Khoda Dad Khan, for this is the head of Debendra Nath, the man’s brother.  The Babu is safe long since.  All but the fools of the Khusru Kheyl know that.’

’Well, I care not for carrion.  Quick meat for me.  The thing was under our hills asking the road to Jumala and Alla Dad Khan showed him the road to Jehannum, being, as thou sayest, but a fool.  Remains now what the Government will do to us.  As to the blockade—­’

‘Who art thou, seller of dog’s flesh,’ thundered Tallantire, ’to speak of terms and treaties?  Get hence to the hills—­go, and wait there starving, till it shall please the Government to call thy people out for punishment—­children and fools that ye be!  Count your dead, and be still.  Best assured that the Government will send you a man!’

‘Ay,’ returned Khoda Dad Khan, ‘for we also be men.’

As he looked Tallantire between the eyes, he added, ’And by God, Sahib, may thou be that man!’

WITHOUT BENEFIT OF CLERGY

Before my Spring I garnered Autumn’s gain,
Out of her time my field was white with grain,
The year gave up her secrets to my woe. 
Forced and deflowered each sick season lay,
In mystery of increase and decay;
I saw the sunset ere men saw the day,
Who am too wise in that I should not know. 
Bitter waters.

I

‘But if it be a girl?’

’Lord of my life, it cannot be.  I have prayed for so many nights, and sent gifts to Sheikh Badl’s shrine so often, that I know God will give us a son—­a man-child that shall grow into a man.  Think of this and be glad.  My mother shall be his mother till I can take him again, and the mullah of the Pattan mosque shall cast his nativity—­God send he be born in an auspicious hour!—­and then, and then thou wilt never weary of me, thy slave.’

‘Since when hast thou been a slave, my queen?’

’Since the beginning—­till this mercy came to me.  How could I be sure of thy love when I knew that I had been bought with silver?’

‘Nay, that was the dowry.  I paid it to thy mother.’