Historical fiction; India -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Thugs (Indic criminal group) -- Fiction
"Certainly," said Bhudrinath: "we may as well be prepared:--but no,"
continued he, "what would be the use of it? If the jungle is as
thick as you say it is, we can easily conceal the bodies; and at any
rate, as there is a river, a grave can soon be made in the sand or
gravel. But the Nuwab is a powerful man, Meer Sahib; you had better
not risk yourself alone with him; as for the rest, the men have
secured them,--that is, they have arranged already who are to do their
business."
"So much the better," said I, "for there is little time now to think
about it."
"I have selected one," continued Bhudrinath, "the fellow who calls
himself the Nuwab's jemadar; I have scraped an intimacy with him, and
am sure of him; the others have done the same; but we left the Nuwab to
you."
"He is mine," cried I; "I did not wish to be interfered with. If
Surfuraz Khan has not selected any one, I will get him to help me."
"He has not, Meer Sahib, that I know of, and he is as strong a man as
any we have with us; with him and another of his men you cannot fail;
but let Surfuraz Khan be the Shumshea, he is a good one."
"I scarcely need one if the Nuwab is sitting," said I; "though perhaps
it is better to have one in case of any difficulty."
We made all our arrangements that night, and next morning started on
our journey in high spirits. The Nuwab and I, as usual, rode together
at the head of the party. "This is an unblest country, Meer Sahib,"
said he, as we rode along. "Didst thou ever see so dreary a jungle, and
not a drop of water to moisten the lips of a true believer from one end
of the stage to the other? It is well the weather is cool, or we should
be sorely tired in our long stages; and here have I, Subzee Khan, gone
without my usual sherbet for three days on this very account. By Alla!
I am now as thirsty as a crow in the hot weather, and my mouth opens
in spite of me. Oh, that we could light on a river or a well in this
parched desert! I would have a glorious draught."
"Patience, Khodawund!" cried I, "who knows but we may be near a stream?
and then we will make a halt, and refresh ourselves: I am hungry myself
and should not care for an hour's delay to break my fast with some
dates I have with me."
"Ha, dates! I will have some too; my fellows may find something to eat
in my wallets, and thou sayest truly the cold wind of these mountains
makes one hungry indeed." But coss after coss was left behind, and as
yet no river appeared. I was beginning to think I had received false
information, and was in no very good humour at my disappointment, when,
to my joy, on passing over the brow of a hill, I saw the small river
the villagers had spoken of below me.
"There," said I. "Khodawund! there at last is a river, and the
sparkling of the water promises it to be good. Will you now halt for
an hour? we can have a pipe all round, and your slave can prepare your
sherbet."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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