Told in the East by Talbot Mundy (ebook reader macos txt) 📗

General Baines was in a position to be envied. No soldier worthy of his salt is other than elated at the thought of war. Now for the proving of his theories. Now for the fruit of all his tireless preaching and inspection and preparing—the planned, pegged-out swoop to victory!

He knew—as few men in India knew—the length and the breadth of what was coming. And when two of his non-commissioned officers sent in word that the whole country was ablaze, he realized, as few other men did in that minute, that this was no local outbreak. The long-threatened holocaust had come, and he had to act, to smite, to strike sure and swift at the festering root of things, or Central India was lost.

But his hands were tied still. He knew. He could see. He could feel. He could hear. But he had his orders. That very morning they had been repeated to him, and with emphasis. In a letter from the Council he had been told that “slight disturbances, of a purely local character, were not without the bounds of possibility, due partly to religious unrest and partly to local causes. Under no circumstances were any extended reprisals to be undertaken until further orders, and generals commanding districts were required to keep the bulk of their commands within cantonments.”

The countryside was up. All India probably was up. His own men, set by himself to watch with one definite idea, had confirmed his worst fears. And he was under orders to stay with the bulk of his command in Bholat! Corked up in cantonments, with three thousand first-class fighting-men squealing for trouble, and red rebellion running riot all around him though it might be quelled by instant action!

And then worse happened. Juggut Khan clattered in to Bholat, spurring a horse that was so spent it could barely keep its feet. It fell in a woeful heap outside the general's quarters, and Juggut Khan—all but as weary as the horse—swung himself free, staggered past the sentry at the door and rapped with his hilt on the tough teak panel. They had to give him brandy and feed him before he could summon strength enough to tell what he had seen and heard and done.

“And Brown stayed on at the crossroads?”

“Aye, General sahib! He stayed!”

The general sat back and drummed his heels together on the floor in a way that his aides had come to recognize as meaning trouble.

“You say that all of the European officers in Jailpore have been killed?”

“I did not count. I did not even know them all by mine or sight. I think, though, that all were killed. I heard men among the mutineers declare that all had been accounted for, save only three women and a child, and me. Those four I myself had hidden, and as for myself—I too was accounted for, and not without credit to the Raj for whom I fight!”

“I believe you, Juggut Khan! Did you have to cut your way out?”

The Rajput smiled.

“There was a message to deliver, sahib! What would you? Should I have waited while they arrested me?”

“Oh! You managed to evade them, did you?”

“At least I am here, sahib!”

The general chewed at his mustache, leaned his chair back against the wall and tapped at his boot with a riding-cane.

“Tell me, Juggut Khan,” he said after another minute's thought, “what is your idea? Is this sporadic? Is this a local outbreak? Will this die down, if left to burn itself out?”

The Rajput laughed aloud.

“'Sporadic,”' he answered, “is a word of which I have yet to learn the meaning. If 'sporadic' means rebellion from Peshawur to Cape Cormorin—revolution, rape, massacre, arson, high treason, torture, death to every European and every half-breed and every loyal native north, south, east and west—then, yes, General sahib, 'sporadic' would be the proper word. If your Honor should mean less than that, then some other word is needed!”

“Then you confirm my own opinion. You are inclined to think that this is an organized and country-wide rebellion?”

“I know of what I speak, sahib!”

“You don't think that you are being influenced in your opinion by the fact that you have seen a massacre, and have lost everything you had?”

“Nay, sahib! This is no hour for joking, or for bearing of false tidings. I tell you, up, sahib! Boots and saddles! Strike!”

The general chewed at his mustache another minute.

“You know this province well?” he asked.

“None better than I. I have traversed every yard of it, attending to my business.”

“And your business is?”

“Each to his trade, sahib. My trade is honorable.”

“I have good reasons for asking, and no impertinence is meant. Be good enough to tell me. I wish to know what value I may place on your opinion.”

“Sahib, I am a full sergeant of the Rajput Horse retired. I bear one medal.”

“And—”

“I sell charms, sahib.”

“What sort of charms?”

“All sorts. But principally charms against the evil eye, and the red sickness, and death by violence. But, also love-charms now and then, and now and then a death-charm to a man who has an enemy and lacks swordsmanship or courage. I trade with each and every man, sahib, and listen to the talk of each, and hold my tongue!”

“Strange trade for a soldier, isn't it?”

“Would you have me a robber, sahib? Or shall I sweep the streets—I,