Historical fiction; India -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Thugs (Indic criminal group) -- Fiction
"You have had your wits about you," he said; "and we will think well
of you when we make the distribution: this is a grave that even a
jackal could not discover. Again I say, Peer Khan, you have done this
properly; and it is well I have seen it that I may speak of you as you
deserve. But you must be quick--the night advances."
"It is finished, Khodawund," replied the man; "we do but wait for
another body, which they say is coming, and the filling up will be done
immediately." As he spoke, the body of the Sahoukar was brought up by
three men, who railed at it for its weight.
"It is their wont," he said; "do not speak to them--only watch what
they do; for you must see all, that you may be fully acquainted with
your duties." I was silent. The corpse was dragged to the brink and
thrown in, as also that of the servant who had been killed close to the
Sahoukar; incisions were made in their abdomens, and sharpened stakes
driven through them.
"Were it not for the precaution you see," said my father, "the ground
might swell, and the jackals would drag out the bodies; in this way,
however, it is impossible."
When all was finished, quantities of stones, which had been collected,
were thrown upon the bodies; afterwards thorns; and the whole was
covered up with sand, which was carefully smoothed. "I think this will
do, Jemadar Sahib," said Peer Khan; "we may now leave the place. It is
not likely that any one will come here to look for the Séthjee or his
people; and the Sahib-zada has seen how cleverly we have done our work."
"Enough," said I, "I shall know how to act as a Lugha myself, should
I ever need it." My father beckoned me to follow him. I stayed to see
some dry sand thrown over the place, and proceeded with the others.
The hole in the underwood made by us was closed up with great care;
and a branch of a bush being broken off, and trailed after him by the
hindmost man, obliterated every footmark in the dry sand of the nulla.
CHAPTER VII.
The rest of the band, with the cart and laden bullocks, had proceeded
some way before we overtook them. We passed through a thin jungle for
some distance, emerging from which, we found ourselves on a wild,
bare plain, here and there studded with straggling brushwood. We all
collected together, and, lighting fires, the hooka passed round, and
each one related his achievement, and gloried in the prospect of a
speedy division of the booty we had acquired.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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