"I am a soldier. I do not know the law."
"Hoo! Law is for fools and white men. Give them a large and
loud order, and they will abide by it. Thou art their law."
"But wherefore?"
Every trace of expression left Bukta's countenance. The idea might
have smitten him for the first time. "How can I say?" he replied.
"Perhaps it is on account of the name. A Bhil does not love
strange things. Give them orders, Sahib- two, three, four words
at a time such as they can carry away in their heads. That is
enough."
Chinn gave orders then, valiantly, not realising that a word spoken
in haste before mess became the dread unappealable law of villages
beyond the smoky hills was, in truth, no less than the Law of Jan
Chinn the First, who, so the whispered legend ran, had come back
to earth, to oversee the third generation, in the body and bones
of his grandson.
There could be no sort of doubt in this matter. All the Bhils
knew that Jan Chinn reincarnated had honoured Bukta's village
with his presence after slaying his first - in this life - tiger;
that he had eaten and drunk with the people, as he was used; and
- Bukta must have drugged Chinn's liquor very deeply - upon his
back and right shoulder all men had seen the same angry red
Flying Cloud that the high Gods had set on the flesh of Jan
Chinn the First when first he came to the Bhil.
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