’Oh, this business seems to be Germinal
upside down. Janki was in my veranda all this
morning, telling me that Kundoo had eloped with his
wife—Unda or Anda, I think her name was.’
’Hillo! And those were the cattle that
you risked your life to clear out of Twenty-Two!’
‘No—I was thinking of the Company’s
props, not the Company’s men.’
‘Sounds better to say so now; but I don’t
believe you, old fellow.’
Tweed said tae Till:
‘What gars ye rin sae still?’
Till said tae Tweed:
‘Though ye rin wi’ speed
An’ I rin slaw—
Yet where ye droon ae man
I droon twa.’
There is no getting over the river to-night, Sahib.
They say that a bullock-cart has been washed down
already, and the ekka that went over a half
hour before you came has not yet reached the far side.
Is the Sahib in haste? I will drive the ford-elephant
in to show him. Ohe, mahout there in the shed!
Bring out Ram Pershad, and if he will face the current,
good. An elephant never lies, Sahib, and Ram Pershad
is separated from his friend Kala Nag. He, too,
wishes to cross to the far side. Well done!
Well done! my King! Go half way across, mahoutji,
and see what the river says. Well done, Ram Pershad!
Pearl among elephants, go into the river! Hit
him on the head, fool! Was the goad made only
to scratch thy own fat back with, bastard? Strike!
Strike! What are the boulders to thee, Ram Pershad,
my Rustum, my mountain of strength? Go in!
Go in!
No, Sahib! It is useless. You can hear him
trumpet. He is telling Kala Nag that he cannot
come over. See! He has swung round and is
shaking his head. He is no fool. He knows
what the Barhwi means when it is angry. Aha!
Indeed, thou art no fool, my child! Salaam,
Ram Pershad, Bahadur! Take him under the trees,
mahout, and see that he gets his spices.
Well done, thou chiefest among tuskers. Salaam
to the Sirkar and go to sleep.
What is to be done? The Sahib must wait till
the river goes down. It will shrink to-morrow
morning, if God pleases, or the day after at the latest.
Now why does the Sahib get so angry? I am his
servant. Before God, I did not create
this stream! What can I do? My hut and all
that is therein is at the service of the Sahib, and
it is beginning to rain. Come away, my Lord.
How will the river go down for your throwing abuse
at it? In the old days the English people were
not thus. The fire-carriage has made them soft.
In the old days, when they drave behind horses by
day or by night, they said naught if a river barred
the way, or a carriage sat down in the mud. It
was the will of God—not like a fire-carriage
which goes and goes and goes, and would go though
all the devils in the land hung on to its tail.
The fire-carriage hath spoiled the English people.
After all, what is a day lost, or, for that matter,
what are two days? Is the Sahib going to his own
wedding, that he is so mad with haste? Ho!
Ho! Ho! I am an old man and see few Sahibs.
Forgive me if I have forgotten the respect that is
due to them. The Sahib is not angry?
