English fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, English
He never meant to injure himself, I am certain, and no one was more
astonished than he when he backed on the Balumon road, and dropped the
carriage into a nullah on the night of the Jamabundi Moguls' dance. I
did not go to the dance. I was bent considerably, and one side of the
coachwan's face was flayed. When he had pieced the wreck together, he
only said, "Sahib!" and I said only "Bohat acha." But we each knew
what the other meant. Next morn Tiglath was stiff and strained. I gave
him time to recover and to enjoy life. When I heard him squealing to
the grass-cutter's ponies I knew that the hour had come. I ordered
the carriage, and myself superintended the funeral toilet of Tiglath.
His harness brasses shone like gold, his coat like a bottle, and he
lifted his feet daintily. Had he even then, at the eleventh hour, given
promise of amendment, I should have held my hand. But as I entered
the carriage I saw the hunching of his quarters that presaged trouble.
"Go forward, Tiglath, my love, my pride, my delight," I murmured. "For
a surety it is a matter of life and death this day." The sais ran to
his head with a fragment of chupatti, saved from his all too scanty
rations; the man loved him. And Tiglath swung round to the left in the
portico; round and round swung he, till the near ear touched the muzzle
of the shot-gun that waited its coming. He never flinched; he pressed
his fate. The coachwan threw down the reins as, with four ounces of
No. 5 shot behind the hollow of the root of the ear, Tiglath fell. In
his death he accomplished the desire of his life, for he fell upon the
shaft and broke it into three pieces. I looked on him as he lay, and of
a sudden the reason of the horror in his eyes was made clear. Tiglath,
the breaker of carriages, the strong, the rebellious, had passed into
the shadowy spirit land, where there was nought to destroy and no power
to destroy it with. The ghastly fore-knowledge of the flitting soul
was written on the glazing eyeball.
I repented me, then, that I had slain Tiglath, for I had no intention
of punishing him in the hereafter.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 13: "Turnovers," Vol. IV.]
THE LIKES O' US[14]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account