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Suddenly the sides of the ravine were crowned with the heads of Bukta's people a force that could have blown the ribs out of the beast had Chinn's shot failed; but their guns were hidden, and they appeared as interested beaters, some five or six waiting the word to skin. Bukta watched the life fade from the wild eyes, lifted one hand, and turned on his heel.
Suddenly the sides of the ravine were crowned with the heads of Bukta's people a force that could have blown the ribs out of the beast had Chinn's shot failed; but their guns were hidden, and they appeared as interested beaters, some five or six waiting the word to skin. Bukta watched the life fade from the wild eyes, lifted one hand, and turned on his heel.
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.
The aboriginal liquors are very potent, and Chinn was compelled to taste them often, but, unless the stuff had been drugged, how came he to fall asleep suddenly, and to waken late the next day half a march from the village? "The Sahib was very tired. A little before dawn he went to sleep," Bukta explained. "My people carried him here, and now it is time we should go back to cantonments."
Bukta, what is this last tale of children?" Bukta had been a silent leader in Chinn's presence since the night of his desertion, and was grateful for a chance-flung question. They know, Sahib," he whispered. "It is the Clouded Tiger. That that comes from the place where thou didst once sleep. It is thy horse as it has been these three generations." "My horse! That was a dream of the Bhils."
I say it. Go and tell them. And I do hope devoutly," he added, "that it will calm 'em down." Flinging back the tiger-skin, he rose with a long, unguarded yawn that showed his well-kept teeth. Bukta fled, to be received in the lines by a knot of panting inquirers. "It is true," said Bukta. "He wrapped him-self in the skin, and spoke from it. He would see his own country again.
Three or four times the reckless trackers returned, most truthfully saying that the beast was mangy, undersized a tigress worn with nursing, or a broken-toothed old male and Bukta would curb young Chinn's impatience.
He has come in from the Mair country. In seven days we will return with the skin." The mess gnashed their teeth enviously. Bukta, had he chosen, might have invited them all. But he went out alone with Chinn, two days in a shooting-cart and a day on foot, till they came to a rocky, glary valley with a pool of good water in it.
The brute couched, choked, and fell, and before Chinn knew well what had happened Bukta bade him stay still while he paced the distance between his feet and the ringing jaws. "Fifteen," said Bukta. "Short paces. No need for a second shot, Sahib. He bleeds cleanly where he lies, and we need not spoil the skin. I said there would be no need of these, but they came in case."
At one end was a rude clay image of a white man, in the old-fashioned top-hat, riding on a bloated tiger. Bukta salamed reverently as they approached. Chinn bared his head and began to pick out the blurred inscription. So far as he could read it ran thus word for word, and letter for letter: To the Memory of JOHN CHINN, Esq.
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