Historical fiction; India -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Thugs (Indic criminal group) -- Fiction
"To-morrow," said I to the assembled men, "is a good day, it is Friday:
we must finish this business." All were agreed upon it, and at midnight
the Bélhas and Lughaees went on, the former to choose a spot for the
affair, and the latter to dig the grave.
At daylight, a man (our Bhikaree it was) came to say the Sahoukar would
wait for us at the other side of the village, and begged we would
be quick, as he liked our company, and wished for the safety of our
escort. "I have been frightening him a little," continued he, "and in
truth he has been in alarm ever since he left Saugor, for he had heard
of the disappearance of some parties on the road last year; so when we
met you yesterday he was highly delighted, and afterwards spoke warmly
of you, Jemadar Sahib, and said he could feel no fear in your society."
"Well done," cried I; "thou too hast played thy part well, and it shall
not be forgotten; but, my friends, the Sahoukar waits, and we had
better be moving; do you all surround his party as you did yesterday;
ply them with tales and stories, and keep their minds quiet."
"Jey Bhowanee! Jey Ameer Ali!" was the shout of the party as we quitted
the ground and took our way to the spot where the Sahoukar awaited us.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
"Ram! Ram! Meer Sahib," was the salutation of the Sahoukar as we met
at the spot whither Bhikaree had guided us. "Ram! Ram! I am glad you
have condescended to keep company with your poor servant, for truly the
sweet savour of your fluent discourse has left a longing in my heart
to hear more of it, and happily I am so far favoured."
I returned the usual compliments, and we set forward on our journey.
Gradually my band arranged themselves around their new victims. All
were at their places, and I eagerly looked out for the first scout who
should give us intelligence that the bhil was ready. A strange feeling
it is, Sahib, that comes over us Thugs at such moments: not a feeling
of interest or pity for our victims, or compunction for the deed we are
about to do, as perhaps you might expect to hear, but an all-absorbing
anxiety for the issue of the adventure, an intense longing for its
consummation, and a dread of interruption from passing travellers; and
though I had become now callous in a great measure, still my heart
was throbbing with anxiety and apprehension, and my replies to the
Sahoukar's witty and jolly remarks were vague and abstracted: my whole
thoughts were concentrated upon the affair in hand, and it was not to
be wondered at. He remarked my altered behaviour, and I rallied myself,
and was soon able to amuse him as I had done before.
"Ah! that is like yourself, Meer Sahib," said he, as I had just given
utterance to a joke which caused his fat sides to shake,--"that is like
yourself. Why, man, whose face did your first glance on awaking from
sleep rest on? Surely on some melancholy being, and you have partaken
of his thoughts ever since."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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