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With a wild Bhil cry the man flung himself down upon his hereditary dread foe and slashed with the knife. Mrs. de Warrenne heard it scratch along the floor, grate on a nail, and crush through the snake. "Aré!! Dead, Mem-Sahib!! Dead!! See, I have cut off its head! Aré!!!! Wah!! The brave mistress!
Law is for fools and white men. Give them a large and loud order, and they will abide by it. Thou art their law." "But wherefore?" Every trace of expression left Bukta's countenance. The idea might have smitten him for the first time. "How can I say?" he replied. "Perhaps it is on account of the name. A Bhil does not love strange things.
All the Bhils knew that Jan Chinn reincarnated had honoured Bukta's village with his presence after slaying his first in this life tiger; that he had eaten and drunk with the people, as he was used; and Bukta must have drugged Chinn's liquor very deeply upon his back and right shoulder all men had seen the same angry red Flying Cloud that the high Gods had set on the flesh of Jan Chinn the First when first he came to the Bhil.
When a Rajput chief whose bards can sing his pedigree backwards for twelve hundred years is set on the throne, his investiture is not complete till he has been marked on the forehead with blood from the veins of a Bhil. The Rajputs say the ceremony has no meaning, but the Bhil knows that it is the last, last shadow of his old rights as the long-ago owner of the soil.
A faint light burned in his room, and, as he entered, hands clasped his feet, and a voice murmured from the floor. "Who is it?" said young Chinn, not knowing he spoke in the Bhil tongue. "I bore you in my arms, Sahib, when I was a strong man and you were a small one crying, crying, crying! I am your servant, as I was your father's before you. We are all your servants."
Nowhere else is there such a medley of peoples of every grade of development, from the almost savage Bhil to the cultivated and high-bred Brahmin or Rajput or Mahomedan chief.
Three weeks ago John Chinn would have said he did not remember a word of the Bhil tongue, but at the mess door he found his lips moving in sentences that he did not understand bits of old nursery rhymes, and tail-ends of such orders as his father used to give the men. The Colonel watched him come up the steps, and laughed. "Look!" he said to the Major. "No need to ask the young un's breed.
Malaprop," who turned up when you never expected her, and made female noises. Then they spoke of Bhil superstitions, a wide and picturesque field, till young Chinn hinted that they must be pulling his leg. "'Deed, we aren't," said a man on his left. "We know all about you.
Then there rose up, with a rattle, as straight as a Bhil arrow, a little white-haired wizened ape of a man, with medals and orders on his tunic, stammering, saluting, and trembling. Behind him a young and wiry Bhil, in uniform, was taking the trees out of Chinn's mess-boots. Chinn's eyes were full of tears. The old man held out his keys. "Foreigners are bad people. He will never come back again.
It is no gain to me; it is no pleasure to me: but for the sake of that one who is yonder, who made the Bhil a man" he pointed down the hill " I, who am of his blood, the son of his son, come to turn your people. And I speak the truth, as did Jan Chinn." The crowd murmured reverently, and men stole out of the thicket by twos and threes to join it. There was no anger in their god's face.
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