Part 25 (2/2)

”Rescue them if thou wilt, Havildar-_jee_,” sneered the agent. ”But the man who risks our plot will be held traitor by the Council. And the men of the 11th,” he added sharply, turning to the corner whence Soma's voice had come, ”may remember that also. They have had the audacity to stipulate for their Colonel's life.”

”For our officers lives, _baboo-jee_,” came the voice again, bold as the agent's. ”We of the 11th kill not men who have led us to victory.

And if this be not understood I, Soma, Yadubansi, go straight to the Colonel and tell him. We are not butchers in the 11th: Oh, priest of Kali!”

The agent turned a little pale. He did not care to have his calling known, and he saw at a glance that his challenger had the reckless fire of hemp in his eyes. He had indeed been drinking as a refuge from the memory of the sweeper's broom and from the taunts and threats which had been used to force him to join the malcontents. Such a man was not safe to quarrel with, nor was the audience fit for a discussion of that topic; there was already a stir in it, and mutterings that butchery was one thing, fighting another.

”Pay thy Colonel's journey home if thou likest, Rajpoot-_jee_,” he said with a sneer. ”Ay! and give him pension, too! All we want is to get rid of them. And there will be plenty of loot left when the pension is paid, for it is to be each man for himself when the time comes. Not share and share alike with every coward who will not risk his life in looting, as it is with the _Sirkar_.”

It was a deft red-herring to these born mercenaries, and no more was said. But as the meeting dispersed by twos and threes to avoid notice, the agent stood at the door giving the word in a final whisper:

”Patience till the 31st.”

”Willst take a seat in our carriage, Ghazee-_jee_,” said a fat native officer as he pa.s.sed out. ”'Tis at thy service since thou goest to Delhi and we must return to-night. G.o.d knows we have done enough to d.a.m.n us at Meerut over this court-martial! But what would you? If we had not given the verdict for the Huzoors there would have been more of us in jail. So we bide our time like the rest. And to-morrow there is the parade to hear the sentence on the martyrs at Barrackpore. Do the sahibs think us cowards that they drive us so? G.o.d smite their souls to h.e.l.l!”

”He will, brother, he will. The Cry shall yet be heard in the House of the Thief,” said the Ghazee fiercely, his eyes growing dreamy with hope. He was thinking of a sunset near the Goomtee more than a year ago, when he had bid every penny he possessed for his own, in vain.

”Well, come if thou likest,” continued the native officer. ”That camel of thine yonder is lame, and we have room. 'Twas Erlton sahib's dak by rights, but he goes not; so we got it cheap instead of an _ekka_.”

”Erlton sahib's!” echoed the fanatic, clutching at his sword. ”Ay!

Ay!” he went on half to himself. ”I knew he was at Delhi, and the mem who laughed, and the other mem who would not listen. Nay!

Soubadar-_jee!_ I travel in no carriage of Erlton sahib's. My camel will serve me.”

”'Tis the vehicle of saints,” sneered the owner of the rakish Moghul cap. ”Verily, when I saw thee mounted on it, Ghazee-_jee_, I deemed thee the Lord Ali.”

”Peace! scoffer,” interrupted the fanatic, ”lest I mistake thee for an infidel.”

The Moghul ducked hastily from a wild swing of the curved sword, and moved off swearing such firebrands should be locked up; they might set light to the train ere wise men had it ready.

”No fear!” said the smart young troop-sergeant of the 3d. ”Who listens to such as he save those whose blood has cooled, and those whose blood was never hot? The fighters listen to women who can make their flame.”

Soma, who was drifting with them toward the drug-shops of the city, scowled fiercely. ”That may suit thee, Mussulman-_jee_, who art casteless, and can sup shares with sweeper women in the bazaar; but the Rajpoot needs no harlot to teach him courage. The mothers of his race have enough and to spare.”

”_Loh!_ hark to him!” jibed the corporal of the 20th, who was sticking to his prey like a leech. ”Ask him, Havildar-_jee_, if he prefers a sweeper's broom to a sweeper's lips.”

There was a roar of laughter from the group.

Soma gave a beast-like cry, looked as though he were about to spring, then--recognizing his own helplessness--flung himself away from all companions.h.i.+p and walked home moodily. They had driven him too far; he would not stand it. If that tale was spread abroad, he would side with the Huzoors who did not believe such things--with the Colonel who understood, like the Colonel before him who had gone home on pension; for the 11th had a cult of their officers. And these fools, his countrymen, thought to make him a butcher by threats; sought to make him take revenge for what deserved revenge. For it was the _Sirkar's_ fault--it was the _Sirkar's_ fault.

In truth a strange conflict was going on in this man's mind, as it was in many another such as his, between inherited traditions, making alike for loyalty and disloyalty. There was the knowledge of his forbears' pride in their victories, in their sahibs who had led them to victory, and the knowledge of their pride in the veriest jot or t.i.ttle of ceremonial law. A dull, painful amaze filled him that these two broad facts should be in conflict; that those, whom in a way he felt to be part of his life, should be in league against him. All the more reason, that, for showing them who were the better men; for standing up fairly to a fair fight. By all the delights of Swargal he would like to stand up fair, even to the master--the man who, in his presence, had shot three tigers on foot in half an hour--the demi-G.o.d of his hunting yarns for years.

And then, suddenly, he remembered that this hero of his might be shot like a dog on the 31st at Delhi--would be shot, since he was certain to be in the front of anything. Soma's heat-fevered, hemp-drugged brain seized on the thought fiercely, confusedly. That must not be!

The master, at any rate, must be warned. He would go down when the sun set, and see if he were still where he had been the day before; and if not?--Why! then it must be two days leave to Delhi! He was not going to butcher the master for all the sweepers' brooms in the world.

Fools! those others, to think to drive him, Soma, Chundrabansi! So he flung himself on his string bed to sleep till the sunset came, and the tyranny of heat be overpast.

But there was one, close by in the cantonment bazaar, who waited for sunset with no desire for it to bring coolness. She meant it to bring heat instead. And this was Nargeeza the courtesan. She was past the prime of everything save vice, a woman who, once all-powerful, could not hope for many more lovers; and hers, a man rich beyond most soldiers, lay in jail for ten years. No wonder, then, that as she lay half-torpid among a heap of tawdry finery in the biggest house of the lane set apart by regulation for such as she, there was all the venom of a snake in her drowsy brain. The air of the low room was deadly with a scent of musk and roses and orange-blossom-oil. The half-dozen girls and women who lounged in it, or in the balcony, were half undressed, their bare brown arms flung carelessly upon dirty mats and torn quilts. Their harvest time was not yet; that would come later when sunsetting brought the men from the lines. This, then, was the time for sleep. But Nargeeza, recognized head of the recognized regimental women, sat up suddenly and said sharply:

”Thou didst not tell me, Nasiban, what Gulabi said. Is she of us?”

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