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'Nothing, but that it is full of the Written Word books and papers in which they wrote, and strange instruments, as of worship. 'Shamlegh-midden will take them all. 'True! But how if we insult the Sahibs' Gods thereby! I do not like to handle the Written Word in that fashion. And their brass idols are beyond my comprehension. It is no plunder for simple hill-folk. 'The old man still sleeps.
At its base was perhaps half an acre of flat land, on which stood a few soil and timber huts. Behind them for, hill-fashion, they were perched on the edge of all things the ground fell sheer two thousand feet to Shamlegh-midden, where never yet man has set foot.
That we do not need we shall throw on Shamlegh-midden, where no man has yet set foot. 'Who is at Shamlegh this summer? The place was only a grazing centre of three or four huts. 'The Woman of Shamlegh. She has no love for Sahibs, as we know. The others can be pleased with little presents; and here is enough for us all. He patted the fat sides of the nearest basket. 'But but
It is a far cry from Simla to Chini, and farther from Shamlegh to Shamlegh-midden. 'So be it, but I carry the big kilta. The basket with the red top that the Sahibs pack themselves every morning. 'Thus it is proved, said the Shamlegh man adroitly, 'that they are Sahibs of no account.
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