Part 167 (2/2)

”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 comprehension 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 inevitable 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, but it may be that the G.o.d 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 knowledge to make those deviltries?” I said, pointing.

”I cannot 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--consider 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 hillside. I went forth and spoke.

”O king,” said I, ”touching this man, there be two courses open to thy wisdom. Thou canst either hang him from a tree--him 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 everybody. 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 befall 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 knowest of, and he will be a bulwark of defense. But deny him even a tuftlet of gra.s.s for his own. This is the nature that G.o.d has given him. Moreover, he has brethren”--

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 concerning the other. Shall he be of thy army, oh, king? Choose!”

The king bowed his head, and I said:

”Come forth, Namgay Doola, and command the king's army. Thy name shall no more be Namgay in the mouths of men, but Patsay Doola, for, as thou hast truly said, I know.”

Then Namgay Doola, never 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 pounds 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.

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