No More Learning

"You will not"--he had dropped the Sir completely after his opening
sentence--"make any escape that way. But you can try. I have tried. Once
only. "

The sensation of nameless terror and abject fear which I had in vain
attempted to strive against overmastered me completely. My long fast--it
was now close upon ten o'clock, and I had eaten nothing since tiffin on
the previous day--combined with the violent and unnatural agitation of
the ride had exhausted me, and I verily believe that, for a few minutes,
I acted as one mad. I hurled myself against the pitiless sand-slope. I
ran round the base of the crater, blaspheming and praying by turns. I
crawled out among the sedges of the river-front, only to be driven back
each time in an agony of nervous dread by the rifle-bullets which cut
up the sand round me--for I dared not face the death of a mad dog among
that hideous crowd--and finally fell, spent and raving, at the curb of
the well. No one had taken the slightest notion of an exhibition which
makes me blush hotly even when I think of it now.

Two or three men trod on my panting body as they drew water, but they
were evidently used to this sort of thing, and had no time to waste
upon me. The situation was humiliating. Gunga Dass, indeed, when he had
banked the embers of his fire with sand, was at some pains to throw half
a cupful of fetid water over my head, an attention for which I could
have fallen on my knees and thanked him, but he was laughing all the
while in the same mirthless, wheezy key that greeted me on my first
attempt to force the shoals. And so, in a semi-comatose condition, I lay
till noon.

Then, being only a man after all, I felt hungry, and intimated as much
to Gunga Dass, whom I had begun to regard as my natural protector.
Following the impulse of the outer world when dealing with natives, I
put my hand into my pocket and drew out four annas. The absurdity of the
gift struck me at once, and I was about to replace the money.

Gunga Dass, however, was of a different opinion. "Give me the money,"
said he; "all you have, or I will get help, and we will kill you! " All
this as if it were the most natural thing in the world!

A Briton's first impulse, I believe, is to guard the contents of his
pockets; but a moment's reflection convinced me of the futility
of differing with the one man who had it in his power to make me
comfortable; and with whose help it was possible that I might eventually
escape from the crater. I gave him all the money in my possession, Rs.
9-8-5--nine rupees eight annas and five pie--for I always keep small
change as bakshish when I am in camp. Gunga Dass clutched the coins, and
hid them at once in his ragged loin cloth, his expression changing to
something diabolical as he looked round to assure himself that no one
had observed us.

"Now I will give you something to eat," said he.

What pleasure the possession of my money could have afforded him I am
unable to say; but inasmuch as it did give him evident delight I was not
sorry that I had parted with it so readily, for I had no doubt that he
would have had me killed if I had refused. One does not protest against
the vagaries of a den of wild beasts; and my companions were lower than
any beasts. While I devoured what Gunga Dass had provided, a coarse
chapatti and a cupful of the foul well-water, the people showed not the
faintest sign of curiosity--that curiosity which is so rampant, as a
rule, in an Indian village.

I could even fancy that they despised me. At all events they treated me
with the most chilling indifference, and Gunga Dass was nearly as bad.
I plied him with questions about the terrible village, and received
extremely unsatisfactory answers. So far as I could gather, it had been
in existence from time immemorial--whence I concluded that it was at
least a century old--and during that time no one had ever been known to
escape from it. [I had to control myself here with both hands, lest the
blind terror should lay hold of me a second time and drive me raving
round the crater. ] Gunga Dass took a malicious pleasure in emphasizing
this point and in watching me wince. Nothing that I could do would
induce him to tell me who the mysterious "They" were.

"It is so ordered," he would reply, "and I do not yet know any one who
has disobeyed the orders. "

"Only wait till my servants find that I am missing," I retorted, "and I
promise you that this place shall be cleared off the face of the earth,
and I'll give you a lesson in civility, too, my friend. "

"Your servants would be torn in pieces before they came near this place;
and, besides, you are dead, my dear friend. It is not your fault, of
course, but none the less you are dead and buried. "

At irregular intervals supplies of food, I was told, were dropped down
from the land side into the amphitheatre, and the inhabitants fought for
them like wild beasts. When a man felt his death coming on he retreated
to his lair and died there. The body was sometimes dragged out of the
hole and thrown on to the sand, or allowed to rot where it lay.

The phrase "thrown on to the sand" caught my attention, and I asked
Gunga Dass whether this sort of thing was not likely to breed a
pestilence.

"That," said he, with another of his wheezy chuckles, "you may see for
yourself subsequently. You will have much time to make observations. "

Whereat, to his great delight, I winced once more and hastily continued
the conversation:--"And how do you live here from day to day? What do
you do? " The question elicited exactly the same answer as before coupled
with the information that "this place is like your European heaven;
there is neither marrying nor giving in marriage. "

Gunga Dass had been educated at a Mission School, and, as he himself
admitted, had he only changed his religion "like a wise man," might have
avoided the living grave which was now his portion. But as long as I was
with him I fancy he was happy.

Here was a Sahib, a representative of the dominant race, helpless as
a child and completely at the mercy of his native neighbors. In a
deliberate lazy way he set himself to torture me as a schoolboy would
devote a rapturous half-hour to watching the agonies of an impaled
beetle, or as a ferret in a blind burrow might glue himself comfortably
to the neck of a rabbit. The burden of his conversation was that there
was no escape "of no kind whatever," and that I should stay here till I
died and was "thrown on to the sand. " If it were possible to forejudge
the conversation of the Damned on the advent of a new soul in their
abode, I should say that they would speak as Gunga Dass did to me
throughout that long afternoon. I was powerless to protest or answer;
all my energies being devoted to a struggle against the inexplicable
terror that threatened to overwhelm me again and again. I can compare
the feeling to nothing except the struggles of a man against the
overpowering nausea of the Channel passage--only my agony was of the
spirit and infinitely more terrible.

As the day wore on, the inhabitants began to appear in full strength to
catch the rays of the afternoon sun, which were now sloping in at the
mouth of the crater. They assembled in little knots, and talked among
themselves without even throwing a glance in my direction. About four
o'clock, as far as I could judge Gunga Dass rose and dived into his lair
for a moment, emerging with a live crow in his hands. The wretched bird
was in a most draggled and deplorable condition, but seemed to be in no
way afraid of its master, Advancing cautiously to the river front, Gunga
Dass stepped from tussock to tussock until he had reached a smooth patch
of sand directly in the line of the boat's fire. The occupants of the
boat took no notice. Here he stopped, and, with a couple of dexterous
turns of the wrist, pegged the bird on its back with outstretched wings.
As was only natural, the crow began to shriek at once and beat the air
with its claws. In a few seconds the clamor had attracted the attention
of a bevy of wild crows on a shoal a few hundred yards away, where they
were discussing something that looked like a corpse. Half a dozen crows
flew over at once to see what was going on, and also, as it proved, to
attack the pinioned bird. Gunga Dass, who had lain down on a tussock,
motioned to me to be quiet, though I fancy this was a needless
precaution. In a moment, and before I could see how it happened, a
wild crow, who had grappled with the shrieking and helpless bird, was
entangled in the latter's claws, swiftly disengaged by Gunga Dass, and
pegged down beside its companion in adversity. Curiosity, it seemed,
overpowered the rest of the flock, and almost before Gunga Dass and I
had time to withdraw to the tussock, two more captives were struggling
in the upturned claws of the decoys. So the chase--if I can give it so
dignified a name--continued until Gunga Dass had captured seven crows.
Five of them he throttled at once, reserving two for further operations
another day. I was a good deal impressed by this, to me, novel method of
securing food, and complimented Gunga Dass on his skill.

"It is nothing to do," said he. "Tomorrow you must do it for me. You are
stronger than I am. "

This calm assumption of superiority Upset me not a little, and I
answered peremptorily;--"Indeed, you old ruffian! What do you think I
have given you money for? "

"Very well," was the unmoved reply. "Perhaps not tomorrow, nor the day
after, nor subsequently; but in the end, and for many years, you will
catch crows and eat crows, and you will thank your European God that you
have crows to catch and eat. "

I could have cheerfully strangled him for this; but judged it best under
the circumstances to smother my resentment. An hour later I was eating
one of the crows; and, as Gunga Dass had said, thanking my God that I
had a crow to eat. Never as long as I live shall I forget that evening
meal. The whole population were squatting on the hard sand platform
opposite their dens, huddled over tiny fires of refuse and dried rushes.
Death, having once laid his hand upon these men and forborne to strike,
seemed to stand aloof from them now; for most of our company were
old men, bent and worn and twisted with years, and women aged to all
appearance as the Fates themselves. They sat together in knots and
talked--God only knows what they found to discuss--in low equable tones,
curiously in contrast to the strident babble with which natives are
accustomed to make day hideous. Now and then an access of that sudden
fury which had possessed me in the morning would lay hold on a man or
woman; and with yells and imprecations the sufferer would attack the
steep slope until, baffled and bleeding, he fell back on the platform
incapable of moving a limb. The others would never even raise their
eyes when this happened, as men too well aware of the futility of their
fellows' attempts and wearied with their useless repetition. I saw four
such outbursts in the course of the evening.

Gunga Dass took an eminently business-like view of my situation, and
while we were dining--I can afford to laugh at the recollection now, but
it was painful enough at the time-propounded the terms on which he would
consent to "do" for me. My nine rupees eight annas, he argued, at the
rate of three annas a day, would provide me with food for fifty-one
days, or about seven weeks; that is to say, he would be willing to cater
for me for that length of time. At the end of it I was to look after
myself. For a further consideration--videlicet my boots--he would be
willing to allow me to occupy the den next to his own, and would supply
me with as much dried grass for bedding as he could spare.

"Very well, Gunga Dass," I replied; "to the first terms I cheerfully
agree, but, as there is nothing on earth to prevent my killing you as
you sit here and taking everything that you have" (I thought of the two
invaluable crows at the time), "I flatly refuse to give you my boots and
shall take whichever den I please. "

The stroke was a bold one, and I was glad when I saw that it had
succeeded. Gunga Dass changed his tone immediately, and disavowed all
intention of asking for my boots. At the time it did not strike me as at
all strange that I, a Civil Engineer, a man of thirteen years' standing
in the Service, and, I trust, an average Englishman, should thus
calmly threaten murder and violence against the man who had, for a
consideration it is true, taken me under his wing. I had left the world,
it seemed, for centuries. I was as certain then as I am now of my own
existence, that in the accursed settlement there was no law save that
of the strongest; that the living dead men had thrown behind them every
canon of the world which had cast them out; and that I had to depend
for my own life on my strength and vigilance alone. The crew of the
ill-fated Mignonette are the only men who would understand my frame of
mind. "At present," I argued to myself, "I am strong and a match for six
of these wretches. It is imperatively necessary that I should, for my
own sake, keep both health and strength until the hour of my release
comes--if it ever does. "

Fortified with these resolutions, I ate and drank as much as I could,
and made Gunga Dass understand that I intended to be his master, and
that the least sign of insubordination on his part would be visited with
the only punishment I had it in my power to inflict--sudden and violent
death. Shortly after this I went to bed.

That is to say, Gunga Dass gave me a double armful of dried bents which
I thrust down the mouth of the lair to the right of his, and followed
myself, feet foremost; the hole running about nine feet into the
sand with a slight downward inclination, and being neatly shored with
timbers. From my den, which faced the river-front, I was able to watch
the waters of the Sutlej flowing past under the light of a young moon
and compose myself to sleep as best I might.

The horrors of that night I shall never forget. My den was nearly as
narrow as a coffin, and the sides had been worn smooth and greasy by
the contact of innumerable naked bodies, added to which it smelled
abominably. Sleep was altogether out of question to one in my excited
frame of mind. As the night wore on, it seemed that the entire
amphitheatre was filled with legions of unclean devils that, trooping up
from the shoals below, mocked the unfortunates in their lairs.

Personally I am not of an imaginative temperament,--very few Engineers
are,--but on that occasion I was as completely prostrated with nervous
terror as any woman. After half an hour or so, however, I was able once
more to calmly review my chances of escape. Any exit by the steep sand
walls was, of course, impracticable. I had been thoroughly convinced of
this some time before. It was possible, just possible, that I might, in
the uncertain moonlight, safely run the gauntlet of the rifle shots. The
place was so full of terror for me that I was prepared to undergo
any risk in leaving it. Imagine my delight, then, when after creeping
stealthily to the river-front I found that the infernal boat was not
there. My freedom lay before me in the next few steps!

By walking out to the first shallow pool that lay at the foot of the
projecting left horn of the horseshoe, I could wade across, turn
the flank of the crater, and make my way inland. Without a moment's
hesitation I marched briskly past the tussocks where Gunga Dass had
snared the crows, and out in the direction of the smooth white sand
beyond. My first step from the tufts of dried grass showed me how
utterly futile was any hope of escape; for, as I put my foot down, I
felt an indescribable drawing, sucking motion of the sand below. Another
moment and my leg was swallowed up nearly to the knee. In the moonlight
the whole surface of the sand seemed to be shaken with devilish delight
at my disappointment. I struggled clear, sweating with terror and
exertion, back to the tussocks behind me and fell on my face.

My only means of escape from the semicircle was protected with a
quicksand!

How long I lay I have not the faintest idea; but I was roused at last
by the malevolent chuckle of Gunga Dass at my ear. "I would advise you,
Protector of the Poor" (the ruffian was speaking English) "to return to
your house. It is unhealthy to lie down here. Moreover, when the boat
returns, you will most certainly be rifled at. " He stood over me in the
dim light of the dawn, chuckling and laughing to himself. Suppressing
my first impulse to catch the man by the neck and throw him on to the
quicksand, I rose sullenly and followed him to the platform below the
burrows.

Suddenly, and futilely as I thought while I spoke, I asked--"Gunga Dass,
what is the good of the boat if I can't get out anyhow? " I recollect
that even in my deepest trouble I had been speculating vaguely on the
waste of ammunition in guarding an already well protected foreshore.

Gunga Dass laughed again and made answer:--"They have the boat only in
daytime. It is for the reason that there is a way. I hope we shall have
the pleasure of your company for much longer time. It is a pleasant spot
when you have been here some years and eaten roast crow long enough. "

I staggered, numbed and helpless, toward the fetid burrow allotted to
me, and fell asleep. An hour or so later I was awakened by a piercing
scream--the shrill, high-pitched scream of a horse in pain. Those who
have once heard that will never forget the sound. I found some little
difficulty in scrambling out of the burrow. When I was in the open, I
saw Pornic, my poor old Pornic, lying dead on the sandy soil. How they
had killed him I cannot guess. Gunga Dass explained that horse was
better than crow, and "greatest good of greatest number is political
maxim. We are now Republic, Mister Jukes, and you are entitled to a fair
share of the beast. If you like, we will pass a vote of thanks. Shall I
propose? "

Yes, we were a Republic indeed! A Republic of wild beasts penned at the
bottom of a pit, to eat and fight and sleep till we died. I attempted
no protest of any kind, but sat down and stared at the hideous sight
in front of me. In less time almost than it takes me to write this,
Pornic's body was divided, in some unclear way or other; the men and
women had dragged the fragments on to the platform and were preparing
their normal meal. Gunga Dass cooked mine. The almost irresistible
impulse to fly at the sand walls until I was wearied laid hold of me
afresh, and I had to struggle against it with all my might. Gunga Dass
was offensively jocular till I told him that if he addressed another
remark of any kind whatever to me I should strangle him where he sat.
This silenced him till silence became insupportable, and I bade him say
something.

"You will live here till you die like the other Feringhi," he said,
coolly, watching me over the fragment of gristle that he was gnawing.

"What other Sahib, you swine? Speak at once, and don't stop to tell me a
lie. "

"He is over there," answered Gunga Dass, pointing to a burrow-mouth
about four doors ta the left of my own. "You can see for yourself. He
died in the burrow as you will die, and I will die, and as all these men
and women and the one child will also die. "

"For pity's sake tell me all you know about him. Who was he? When did he
come, and when did he die? "

This appeal was a weak step on my part. Gunga Dass only leered and
replied:--"I will not--unless you give me something first. "

Then I recollected where I was, and struck the man between the eyes,
partially stunning him. He stepped down from the platform at once, and,
cringing and fawning and weeping and attempting to embrace my feet, led
me round to the burrow which he had indicated.

"I know nothing whatever about the gentleman. Your God be my witness
that I do not. He was as anxious to escape as you were, and he was
shot from the boat, though we all did all things to prevent him from
attempting. He was shot here. " Gunga Dass laid his hand on his lean
stomach and bowed to the earth.

"Well, and what then? Go on! "

"And then--and then, Your Honor, we carried him in to his house and
gave him water, and put wet cloths on the wound, and he laid down in his
house and gave up the ghost. "

"In how long? In how long? "

"About half an hour, after he received his wound. I call Vishnu to
witness," yelled the wretched man, "that I did everything for him.
Everything which was possible, that I did! "

He threw himself down on the ground and clasped my ankles. But I had
my doubts about Gunga Dass's benevolence, and kicked him off as he lay
protesting.

"I believe you robbed him of everything he had. But I can find out in a
minute or two. How long was the Sahib here? "

"Nearly a year and a half. I think he must have gone mad. But hear me
swear, Protector of the Poor! Won't Your Honor hear me swear that I
never touched an article that belonged to him? What is Your Worship
going to do? "

I had taken Gunga Dass by the waist and had hauled him on to the
platform opposite the deserted burrow. As I did so I thought of my
wretched fellow-prisoner's unspeakable misery among all these horrors
for eighteen months, and the final agony of dying like a rat in a hole,
with a bullet-wound in the stomach. Gunga Dass fancied I was going
to kill him and howled pitifully. The rest of the population, in the
plethora that follows a full flesh meal, watched us without stirring.

"Go inside, Gunga Dass," said I, "and fetch it out. "

I was feeling sick and faint with horror now. Gunga Dass nearly rolled
off the platform and howled aloud.

"But I am Brahmin, Sahib--a high-caste Brahmin. By your soul, by your
father's soul, do not make me do this thing! "

"Brahmin or no Brahmin, by my soul and my father's soul, in you go! "
I said, and, seizing him by the shoulders, I crammed his head into
the mouth of the burrow, kicked the rest of him in, and, sitting down,
covered my face with my hands.
At the end of a few minutes I heard a rustle and a creak; then Gunga
Dass in a sobbing, choking whisper speaking to himself; then a soft
thud--and I uncovered my eyes.

The dry sand had turned the corpse entrusted to its keeping into a
yellow-brown mummy. I told Gunga Dass to stand off while I examined it.

The body--clad in an olive-green hunting-suit much stained and worn,
with leather pads on the shoulders--was that of a man between thirty and
forty, above middle height, with light, sandy hair, long mustache, and a
rough unkempt beard. The left canine of the upper jaw was missing, and
a portion of the lobe of the right ear was gone. On the second finger of
the left hand was a ring--a shield-shaped bloodstone set in gold, with
a monogram that might have been either "B. K. " or "B. L. " On the third
finger of the right hand was a silver ring in the shape of a coiled
cobra, much worn and tarnished. Gunga Dass deposited a handful of
trifles he had picked out of the burrow at my feet, and, covering the
face of the body with my handkerchief, I turned to examine these. I give
the full list in the hope that it may lead to the identification of the
unfortunate man:

1. Bowl of a briarwood pipe, serrated at the edge; much worn and
blackened; bound with string at the crew.

2. Two patent-lever keys; wards of both broken.

3. Tortoise-shell-handled penknife, silver or nickel name-plate, marked
with monogram "B. K. "

4. Envelope, postmark Undecipherable, bearing a Victorian stamp,
addressed to "Miss Mon-" (rest illegible) -"ham-'nt. "

5. Imitation crocodile-skin notebook with pencil. First forty-five pages
blank; four and a half illegible; fifteen others filled with private
memoranda relating chiefly to three persons--a Mrs. L. Singleton,
abbreviated several times to "Lot Single," "Mrs. S. May," and
"Garmison," referred to in places as "Jerry" or "Jack. "

6. Handle of small-sized hunting-knife. Blade snapped short. Buck's horn,
diamond cut, with swivel and ring on the butt; fragment of cotton cord
attached.

It must not be supposed that I inventoried all these things on the spot
as fully as I have here written them down. The notebook first attracted
my attention, and I put it in my pocket with a view of studying it later
on.

The rest of the articles I conveyed to my burrow for safety's sake, and
there being a methodical man, I inventoried them. I then returned to
the corpse and ordered Gunga Dass to help me to carry it out to the
river-front. While we were engaged in this, the exploded shell of an old
brown cartridge dropped out of one of the pockets and rolled at my feet.
Gunga Dass had not seen it; and I fell to thinking that a man does not
carry exploded cartridge-cases, especially "browns," which will not
bear loading twice, about with him when shooting. In other words, that
cartridge-case had been fired inside the crater. Consequently there must
be a gun somewhere. I was on the verge of asking Gunga Dass, but checked
myself, knowing that he would lie. We laid the body down on the edge of
the quicksand by the tussocks. It was my intention to push it out and
let it be swallowed up--the only possible mode of burial that I could
think of. I ordered Gunga Dass to go away.

Then I gingerly put the corpse out on the quicksand. In doing so--it
was lying face downward--I tore the frail and rotten khaki shooting-coat
open, disclosing a hideous cavity in the back. I have already told you
that the dry sand had, as it were, mummified the body. A moment's glance
showed that the gaping hole had been caused by a gun-shot wound; the
gun must have been fired with the muzzle almost touching the back. The
shooting-coat, being intact, had been drawn over the body after death,
which must have been instantaneous. The secret of the poor wretch's
death was plain to me in a flash. Some one of the crater, presumably
Gunga Dass, must have shot him with his own gun--the gun that fitted the
brown cartridges. He had never attempted to escape in the face of the
rifle-fire from the boat.

I pushed the corpse out hastily, and saw it sink from sight literally in
a few seconds. I shuddered as I watched. In a dazed, half-conscious way
I turned to peruse the notebook. A stained and discolored slip of paper
bad been inserted between the binding and the back, and dropped out as I
opened the pages. This is what it contained:--"Four out from crow-clump:
three left; nine out; two right; three back; two left; fourteen out; two
left; seven out; one left; nine back; two right; six back; four right;
seven back. " The paper had been burned and charred at the edges. What it
meant I could not understand. I sat down on the dried bents turning
it over and over between my fingers, until I was aware of Gunga Dass
standing immediately behind me with glowing eyes and outstretched hands.

"Have you got it? " he panted. "Will you not let me look at it also? I
swear that I will return it. "

"Got what? Return what? " asked.

"That which you have in your hands. It will help us both. " He stretched
out his long, bird-like talons, trembling with eagerness.

"I could never find it," he continued. "He had secreted it about his
person. Therefore I shot him, but nevertheless I was unable to obtain
it. "

Gunga Dass had quite forgotten his little fiction about the
rifle-bullet. I received the information perfectly calmly. Morality is
blunted by consorting with the Dead who are alive.

"What on earth are you raving about? What is it you want me to give
you? "

"The piece of paper in the notebook. It will help us both. Oh, you fool!
You fool! Can you not see what it will do for us? We shall escape! "

His voice rose almost to a scream, and he danced with excitement before
me. I own I was moved at the chance of my getting away.

"Don't skip! Explain yourself. Do you mean to say that this slip of
paper will help us? What does it mean? "

"Read it aloud! Read it aloud! I beg and I pray you to read it aloud. "

I did so. Gunga Dass listened delightedly, and drew an irregular line in
the sand with his fingers.

"See now! It was the length of his gun-barrels without the stock. I have
those barrels. Four gun-barrels out from the place where I caught crows
straight out; do you follow me? Then three left--Ah! how well I remember
when that man worked it out night after night Then nine out, and so on.
Out is always straight before you across the quicksand. He told me so
before I killed him. "

"But if you knew all this why didn't you get out before? "

"I did not know it. He told me that he was working it out a year and a
half ago, and how he was working it out night after night when the boat
had gone away, and he could get out near the quicksand safely. Then he
said that we would get away together. But I was afraid that he would
leave me behind one night when he had worked it all out, and so I shot
him. Besides, it is not advisable that the men who once get in here
should escape. Only I, and I am a Brahmin. "

The prospect of escape had brought Gunga Dass's caste back to him. He
stood up, walked about and gesticulated violently. Eventually I managed
to make him talk soberly, and he told me how this Englishman had spent
six months night after night in exploring, inch by inch, the passage
across the quicksand; how he had declared it to be simplicity itself up
to within about twenty yards of the river bank after turning the flank
of the left horn of the horseshoe. This much he had evidently not
completed when Gunga Dass shot him with his own gun.

In my frenzy of delight at the possibilities of escape I recollect
shaking hands effusively with Gunga Dass, after we had decided that we
were to make an attempt to get away that very night. It was weary work
waiting throughout the afternoon.

About ten o'clock, as far as I could judge, when the Moon had just risen
above the lip of the crater, Gunga Dass made a move for his burrow to
bring out the gun-barrels whereby to measure our path. All the other
wretched inhabitants had retired to their lairs long ago. The guardian
boat drifted downstream some hours before, and we were utterly alone by
the crow-clump. Gunga Dass, while carrying the gun-barrels, let slip
the piece of paper which was to be our guide. I stooped down hastily to
recover it, and, as I did so, I was aware that the diabolical Brahmin
was aiming a violent blow at the back of my head with the gun-barrels.
It was too late to turn round. I must have received the blow somewhere
on the nape of my neck. A hundred thousand fiery stars danced before my
eyes, and I fell forwards senseless at the edge of, the quicksand.

When I recovered consciousness, the Moon was going down, and I was
sensible of intolerable pain in the back of my head. Gunga Dass had
disappeared and my mouth was full of blood. I lay down again and prayed
that I might die without more ado. Then the unreasoning fury which I had
before mentioned, laid hold upon me, and I staggered inland toward the
walls of the crater. It seemed that some one was calling to me in a
whisper--"Sahib! Sahib! Sahib! " exactly as my bearer used to call me in
the morning I fancied that I was delirious until a handful of sand
fell at my feet. Then I looked up and saw a head peering down into
the amphitheatre--the head of Dunnoo, my dog-boy, who attended to my
collies. As soon as he had attracted my attention, he held up his hand
and showed a rope. I motioned, staggering to and fro for the while, that
he should throw it down. It was a couple of leather punkah-ropes knotted
together, with a loop at one end. I slipped the loop over my head and
under my arms; heard Dunnoo urge something forward; was conscious that I
was being dragged, face downward, up the steep sand slope, and the
next instant found myself choked and half fainting on the sand
hills overlooking the crater. Dunnoo, with his face ashy grey in the
moonlight, implored me not to stay but to get back to my tent at once.

It seems that he had tracked Pornic's footprints fourteen miles across
the sands to the crater; had returned and told my servants, who flatly
refused to meddle with any one, white or black, once fallen into the
hideous Village of the Dead; whereupon Dunnoo had taken one of my ponies
and a couple of punkah-ropes, returned to the crater, and hauled me out
as I have described.

To cut a long story short, Dunnoo is now my personal servant on a gold
mohur a month--a sum which I still think far too little for the services
he has rendered. Nothing on earth will induce me to go near that
devilish spot again, or to reveal its whereabouts more clearly than I
have done. Of Gunga Dass I have never found a trace, nor do I wish to
do. My sole motive in giving this to be published is the hope that some
one may possibly identify, from the details and the inventory which I
have given above, the corpse of the man in the olive-green hunting-suit.

* * * * *




THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING

Brother to a Prince and fellow to a beggar if he be found worthy.

The Law, as quoted, lays down a fair conduct of life, and one not easy to
follow. I have been fellow to a beggar again and again under
circumstances which prevented either of us finding out whether the other
was worthy. I have still to be brother to a Prince, though I once came
near to kinship with what might have been a veritable King, and was
promised the reversion of a Kingdom--army, law-courts, revenue, and
policy all complete. But, today, I greatly fear that my King is dead,
and if I want a crown I must go hunt it for myself.

The beginning of everything was in a railway-train upon the road to Mhow
from Ajmir. There had been a Deficit in the Budget, which necessitated
travelling, not Second-class, which is only half as dear as First-Class,
but by Intermediate, which is very awful indeed. There are no cushions
in the Intermediate class, and the population are either Intermediate,
which is Eurasian, or native, which for a long night journey is nasty,
or Loafer, which is amusing though intoxicated. Intermediates do not buy
from refreshment-rooms. They carry their food in bundles and pots, and
buy sweets from the native sweetmeat-sellers, and drink the roadside
water. This is why in hot weather Intermediates are taken out of the
carriages dead, and in all weathers are most properly looked down upon.

My particular Intermediate happened to be empty till I reached
Nasirabad, when the big black-browed gentleman in shirt-sleeves entered,
and, following the custom of Intermediates, passed the time of day. He
was a wanderer and a vagabond like myself, but with an educated
taste for whisky. He told tales of things he had seen and done, of
out-of-the-way corners of the Empire into which he had penetrated, and
of adventures in which he risked his life for a few days' food.

"If India was filled with men like you and me, not knowing more than
the crows where they'd get their next day's rations, it isn't seventy
millions of revenue the land would be paying--it's seven hundred
millions," said he; and as I looked at his mouth and chin I was disposed
to agree with him.

We talked politics,--the politics of Loaferdom that sees things from
the under side where the lath and plaster is not smoothed off,--and we
talked postal arrangements because my friend wanted to send a telegram
back from the next station to Ajmir, the turning-off place from the
Bombay to the Mhow line as you travel westward. My friend had no money
beyond eight annas which he wanted for dinner, and I had no money at
all, owing to the hitch in the Budget before mentioned. Further, I was
going into a wilderness where, though I should resume touch with the
Treasury, there were no telegraph offices. I was, therefore, unable to
help him in any way.

"We might threaten a Station-master, and make him send a wire on tick,"
said my friend, "but that'd mean inquiries for you and for me, and I've
got my hands full these days. Did you say you were travelling back along
this line within any days? "

"Within ten," I said.

"Can't you make it eight? " said he. "Mine is rather urgent business. "

"I can send your telegrams within ten days if that will serve you," I
said.

"I couldn't trust the wire to fetch him, now I think of it. It's this
way. He leaves Delhi on the 23rd for Bombay. That means he'll be running
through Ajmir about the night of the 23rd. "

"But I'm going into the Indian Desert," I explained.

"Well and good," said he. "You'll be changing at Marwar Junction to get
into Jodhpore territory,--you must do that,--and he'll be coming through
Marwar Junction in the early morning of the 24th by the Bombay Mail. Can
you be at Marwar Junction on that time? 'T won't be inconveniencing you,
because I know that there's precious few pickings to be got out of these
Central India States--even though you pretend to be correspondent of the
'Backwoodsman. '"

"Have you ever tried that trick? " I asked.

"Again and again, but the Residents find you out, and then you get
escorted to the Border before you've time to get your knife into them.
But about my friend here. I must give him a word o' mouth to tell him
what's come to me, or else he won't know where to go. I would take it
more than kind of you if you was to come out of Central India in time to
catch him at Marwar Junction, and say to him, 'He has gone South for the
week. ' He'll know what that means. He's a big man with a red beard, and
a great swell he is.

"You'll find him sleeping like a gentleman with all his luggage round him
in a Second-class apartment. But don't you be afraid.

"Slip down the window and say, 'He has gone South for the week,' and
he'll tumble. It's only cutting your time of stay in those parts by
two days. I ask you as a stranger--going to the West," he said, with
emphasis.

"Where have you come from? " said I.

"From the East," said he, "and I am hoping that you will give him the
message on the square--for the sake of my Mother as well as your own. "

Englishmen are not usually softened by appeals to the memory of their
mothers; but for certain reasons, which will be fully apparent, I saw
fit to agree.

"It's more than a little matter," said he, "and that's why I asked
you to do it--and now I know that I can depend on you doing it. A
Second-class carriage at Marwar Junction, and a red-haired man asleep
in it. You'll be sure to remember. I get out at the next station, and I
must hold on there till he comes or sends me what I want. "

"I'll give the message if I catch him," I said, "and for the sake of
your Mother as well as mine I'll give you a word of advice. Don't try
to run the Central India States just now as the correspondent of the
'Backwoodsman. ' There's a real one knocking about here, and it might
lead to trouble.