“Nay, a hut is a hut, and it holds the life of a man. But once I sent my
army against him when his excuses became wearisome: of their heads he
brake three across the top with a stick. The other two men ran away.
Also the guns would not shoot.”
I had seen the equipment of the infantry. One-third of it was an old
muzzle-loading fowling-piece, with a ragged rust-hole where the nipples
should have been, one-third a wire-bound matchlock with a worm-eaten
stock, and one-third a four-bore flint duck-gun without a flint.
“But it is to be remembered,” said the King, reaching out for the
bottle, “that he is a very expert log-snatcher and a man of a merry
face. What shall I do to him, Sahib?”
This was interesting. The timid hill-folk would as soon have refused
taxes to their King as revenues to their Gods.
“If it be the King’s permission,” I said, “I will not strike my tents
till the third day, and I will see this man. The mercy of the King is
God-like, and rebellion is like unto the sin of witchcraft. Moreover,
both the bottles and another be empty.”
“You have my leave to go,” said the King.
Next morning a crier went through the State proclaiming that there was a
log-jam on the river, and that it behoved all loyal subjects to remove
it. The people poured down from their villages to the moist warm valley
of poppy-fields; and the King and I went with them. Hundreds of dressed
deodar-logs had caught on a snag of rock, and the river was bringing
down more logs every minute to complete the blockade. The water snarled
and wrenched and worried at the timber, and the population of the State
began prodding the nearest logs with a pole in the hope of starting a
general movement. Then there went up a shout of “Namgay Doola! Namgay
Doola!” and a large red-haired villager hurried up, stripping off his
clothes as he ran.
“That is he. That is the rebel,” said the King. “Now will the dam be
cleared.”
“But why has he red hair?” I asked, since red hair among hill-folks is
as common as blue or green.
“He is an outlander,” said the King. “Well done! Oh, well done!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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