Historical fiction; India -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Thugs (Indic criminal group) -- Fiction
After prayers we returned to the place where we had put up, and found
a man belonging to the Sahoukar waiting for us. He said his master
would stay that evening where he was, with a friend, instead of coming
outside the village to our encampment, but that my father was to leave
some men with him as a guard; and that he would set out early in the
night, as he was determined to go on to Bassim, a town some distance
off, where he had another friend, whom he wished to visit; that as it
was so long a march we must start early, so as to allow time for a halt
for refreshment at a village half way. My father did not like the idea
of sending the men into the village, lest they should be recognized as
Thugs by any of the Thug villagers; yet he could not but acquiesce, and
some were sent as soon as night closed in, that there might be hardly a
chance of their being known. In the meantime every preparation was made
by the party of gravediggers who were to precede us, and at nightfall
they also left the ground, fourteen in number, with the two who knew
the spot in company with them. They were confident as to the precise
place they should fix on, and described the hills as little more than
low mounds, caused by some high land breaking into ravines; that, if
they remembered right, the road was very stony, and crossed by several
small streams, whose banks were lined by thick brushwood, and that in
any one of these in which there might be no water, the bhil, or grave,
should be prepared. They were also desired to place men in advance to
give information, that we might all take our places, and fall on, when
the signal was given.
It was now generally known to all that I was to have the Sahoukar to
myself, and many thronged about me to see how I looked forward to my
first trial; every one cheered me, and I must own this gave me great
confidence. As the time approached, my soul burned for the work like
that of a young and brave soldier to see the first flash of his bright
sword in anger. My father enjoyed my demeanour in silent satisfaction;
he spoke not, but there was exultation in his eye as he looked fondly
upon me, and I felt that I should not disappoint him. The whole band
seemed to be impressed particularly with the importance of the present
matter, for they collected into groups, and though each man knew
exactly what he had to do, and what was appointed for his comrade, yet
they seemed to be discussing the whole, till one by one they separated,
and each stretched himself out to gain the little rest he could,
before the time arrived which would call him into active, nay, deadly
strife,--my father and Hoosein too--all except myself. I was sitting
outside our slight tent, when Roop Singh came to me.
"Baba!" said he, as he sat down, "how feel you? is your heart firm and
your blood cool?"
"Both," said I: "nothing can change my heart; and feel my hand, is my
blood hot?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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