“Yes, but the beasts dominated one end of my cotton-belt like anything. They chivied me out of it when I went to take soil for analysis--me and Imam Din.” “Sahib! Is there a need?” The voice came out of the darkness, and the eyes shone over Adam's shoulder ere it ceased. “None. The name was taken in talk.” Adam abolished him with a turn of the finger. “I couldn't make a casus belli of it just then, because my Chief had taken all the troops to hammer a gang of slave kings up north. Did you ever hear of our war against Ibn Makarrah? He precious nearly lost us the Protectorate at one time, though he's an ally of ours now.” “Wasn't he rather a pernicious brute, even as they go?” said Stalky. “Wade told me about him last year.” “Well, his nickname all through the country was 'The Merciful,' and he didn't get that for nothing. None of our people ever breathed his proper name. They said 'He' or 'That One,' and they didn't say it aloud, either. He fought us for eight months.” “I remember. There was a paragraph about it in one of the papers,” I said. “We broke him, though. No--the slavers don't come our way, because our men have the reputation of dying too much, the first month after they're captured. That knocks down profits, you see.” “What about your charming friends, the Sheshahelis?” said the Infant. “There's no market for Sheshaheli. People would as soon buy crocodiles. I believe, before we annexed the country, Ibn Makarrah dropped down on 'em once--to train his young men--and simply hewed 'em in pieces. The bulk of my people are agriculturists--just the right stamp for cotton-growers. What's Mother playing?--'_Once in royal_'?” The organ that had been crooning as happily as a woman over her babe restored, steadied to a tune. “Magnificent! Oh, magnificent!” said the Infant loyally. I had never heard him sing but once, and then, though it was early in the tolerant morning, his mess had rolled him into a lotus pond. “How did you get your cannibals to work for you?” asked Strickland. “They got converted to civilization after my Chief smashed Ibn Makarrah--just at the time I wanted 'em. You see my Chief had promised me in writing that if I could scrape up a surplus he would not bag it for his roads this time, but I might have it for my cotton game. I only needed two hundred pounds. Our revenues didn't run to it.” “What is your revenue?” Stalky asked in the vernacular. “With hut-tax, traders' game and mining licenses, not more than fourteen thousand rupees; every penny of it ear-marked months ahead.” Adam sighed. “Also there is a fine for dogs straying in the Sahib's camp. Last year it exceeded three rupees,” Imam Din said quietly.