"
"What do the wild Bhils think that it means?"
They do not know. They wait. Sahib, what is coming? Say only one
little word, and we will be content."
"We? What have tales from the south, where the jungly Bhils live,
to do with drilled men?"
"When Jan Chinn wakes is no time for any Bhil to be quiet."
"But he has not waked, Bukta."
"Sahib" - the old man's eyes were full of tender reproof - "if he
does not wish to be seen, why does he go abroad in the moonlight?
We know he is awake, but we do not know what he desires. Is it a
sign for all the Bhils, or one that concerns the Satpura folk alone?
Say one little word, Sahib, that I may carry it to the lines, and
send on to our villages. Why does Jan Chinn ride out? Who has done
wrong? Is it pestilence? Is it murrain? Will our children die?
Is it a sword? Remember, Sahib, we are thy people and thy servants,
and in this life I bore thee in my arms - not knowing."
"Bukta has evidently looked on the cup this evening," Chinn thought;
"but if I can do anything to soothe the old chap I must. It's like
the Mutiny rumours on a small scale."
He dropped into a deep wicker chair, over which was thrown his
first tiger-skin, and his weight on the cushion flapped the clawed
paws over his shoulders.
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