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Updated: May 28, 2025
They showed the marks of enormous pugs that ran, always down-hill, to a few hundred feet below Jan Chinn's tomb, and disappeared in a narrow-mouthed cave. It was an insolently open road, a domestic highway, beaten without thought of concealment. "The beggar might be paying rent and taxes," Chinn muttered ere he asked whether his friend's taste ran to cattle or man. "Cattle," was the answer.
That set all talking, and long before midnight Chinn's brain was in a whirl with stories of tigers man-eaters and cattle-killers each pursuing his own business as methodically as clerks in an office; new tigers that had lately come into such-and-such a district; and old, friendly beasts of great cunning, known by nicknames in the mess-such as "Puggy," who was lazy, with huge paws, and "Mrs.
For most of the unexpected guests chairs had been hastily provided by Hedwig, and the few men standing were doing so from choice. As she finished counting, Mrs. McDougal stepped back and stood by Mary Cary's side. "We are all here," she said. "Not a one was spilt out the wagon, but 'twas so crowded I was 'fraid some might be jolted off the ends. We come in Mr. Chinn's undertakin' wagon."
Must be a queer thing to see your grandfather treated as a god." "What makes you think there's any truth in the tale?" said Chinn. "Because all our men deny it. They say they've never heard of Chinn's tiger. Now that's a manifest lie, because every Bhil has." "There's only one thing you've overlooked," said the Colonel, thoughtfully.
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.
It happened to be the old answer of his childhood, when Bukta in jest called him the little General Sahib. The Major's quarters were opposite Chinn's, and when he heard his servant gasp with surprise he looked across the room.
Nothing would have pleased the old man better than a rough-and-tumble campaign against the Satpuras, whom he, as an "unmixed" Bhil, despised; but he had a duty to all his nation as Jan Chinn's interpreter; and he devoutly believed that forty plagues would fall on his village if he tampered with that obligation. Besides, Jan Chinn knew all things, and he rode the Clouded Tiger.
It was slow, unseen work, of the sort that is being done all over India to-day; and though John Chinn's only reward came, as I have said, in the shape of a grave at Government expense, the little people of the hills never forgot him. Colonel Lionel Chinn knew and loved them, too, and they were very fairly civilised, for Bhils, before his service ended.
From Chinn's point of view the stalk was nothing more than an ordinary one down-hill, through split and crannied rocks, unsafe, perhaps, if a man did not keep his wits by him, but no worse than twenty others he had undertaken. Yet his men they refused absolutely to beat, and would only trail dripped sweat at every move.
"Nothing. It is only night-running, as I have said. He rides to see if they obey the Government, as he taught them to do in his first life." "And what if they do not?" "He did not say." The light went out in Chinn's quarters. "Look," said Bukta. "Now he goes away. None the less it is a good ghost, as he has said. How shall we fear Jan Chinn, who made the Bhil a man?
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