The Old Rebel.

Evening Post, Volume LXXVII, Issue 73, 27 March 1909, Page 10

The Old Rebel.

Look at him sitting there, with sturdy frame and strong weary face. His shoulders are bent, his hair s !s white, and . his eyes are dim ; bub he is still the leader of all the country-side, and still men talk of his deeds when he was young. He is over eighty now, and he is bhe lasb of the rebels. Fifty years ago he was a fine man, strong and daring and active. When the district rose againsb the English in the .Mutiny year, and the jungle tribes struck their last blow for freedom, he was their leader. It was for freedom bhey rose. They had been the lords of the jungle, free and untrammelled, doing wbab they ., wished ; and how should they brook the English rule, with its hard levelling laws and bhe foreign courts and the hoi brick walls of the gaol? When the whole c6untry was in arms the jungle tribes saw freedom and loot and disorder and all that their wild souls loved. They rose againsb the English, and that old man was their leader. They looted tbe towns and robbed the Hindus and held high revelry, penning the few English up in their little fort. Ib was nob blood for which they thirsted, as others bhirsted ; nor did bhey care for any king or chief, bnb that they longed for freedom — jusb the freedom of the birds and the jackals, and for the wild desert life that they had always lived — freedom to wander in the jungles and do as they liked. How could they stand before bho English grins, men who knew no d^cipline and carried bub clubs and spears? They were scattered like chaff. Many fell in combat, many -were shot or hanged. When, all was done and the gaols were full, then the English Governor sent down and said that nothing had been done, and so the punishmenb musb begin again. They had to build forts to watch their own villages, to cub roads through their own forests, to burn and level their own jungles, so that no cover should be left where bhe jungle tribes might hide from their stern, rulers and forget their rtile. Scores were sent to transportation for life — to the Andamans across the sea. Of all that went but one returned, and he was the old rebel who had been the chief of them all. As a boatload of prisoners dropped down the great river towards exile and lonely death, he alone escapod. He slipped over the side one night, swam ashore, and found his way back stealthily to his little village, which had been burned and desolated. His escape was known and his return was known, but even the English could not catch him. It would nob be possible now, but in bhos© days he lived in his village and looked after his house and tended his lands and brought up his family, while the police could never find him. 'there Was no robbery in which he wag not the leader, no cattlestealing that he did not direcb ; bub no one bebrayed him and no one arrested him — all men honoured him. At last the English grew tired of the troublesome rebel and put a fine on his village and quartered police upon them till the man should be caught. His people groaned under the burden, and the rebel knew that his time was come and that he too musb now admib the English rule. Ho scorned to surrender bo lesser men, bub journeyed hundreds of miles on foot to see the Governor himself, and stopped him in the street as he rode past. "I am the rebel whom you seek," he cried ; "arrest me, and cease from troubling my people." It was twenby years since he had escaped and swum ashore, and for all bhose years they had sought him and had nob found him, and he had lived openly i in his village where every one knewJthat he lived. Now the English had caught the man, but they mean-i him no har&i. He gave security for his behaviour for a time, and was released and wenb back to his village wibh a paurdon for his past crimes. There he has lived since, the lasb of his class, and has seen the world change around him. The jungle tribes Jive in the jungle, grazing their cattle, and robbing one another. They live by stealing one another's cattle, and count it no shame bub an honour. The old rebel is the leader of them all. Not a head of cattle is sbolen bub he knows aboub it, nob a device for getting stolen property away is tried but he has planned ib and approved ib. He who fia's losb anything musb visib him and pay ransom, if he would see his properly again. All men know him, admire him, and respecb him ; for he does as his fabhers did, and never accepted the English rule nor admitted thab times have changed. The times have changed, and the old rebel lives on, a rebel still, to see new sights, to hear new doctrines, to struggle with the inevitable, and to beat against the pitiless iron grasp that closes ever tighter on tho old jungle tribes. The broad shoulders are bowed, the once keen eyes are- dim, and the old man in surly resentment wishes that he had died with his -comrades fifty years ago. The rainfall is scant, and there is little frator in the jungles where tho cattle grazed under bhe trees and the herdsmen watched beside and breathed the pure air of liberty. Who could have gue&sed thab bhe English could bring water into the desert, and people to fell the trees and cultivate the waste? What is loft to the jungle-dwellers when the junglo is gone .' they a?k for land to cultivate where before they roamed free as air? Strangers from far away cut down the trees and drive their ploughs and hound the cattle off their lands. The old man and his tribe havo lost their grazing-lands, and how shall their cattle live? Musb they drive ploughs aud sow crops and do as their fathers never did? Tho old man has lived too long, and there is no place for him. He would still resist, bub what will he gain by resistance? Even now the young men attacked a party of settlers, fierce men and veteran soldiers. Can the jungle tribes stand before tho Sikhs in battle? His son ifa killed, and his grandson lies in gaol, as he himself lay fifty years ago. The old rebel's heart is broken ; for the world that he knew has gone, and in the new world that has come there is ho place for him. They call him rebel and robber and 60, indeed, ho is ; and so his fathers tvere, and counted it their pride. He is still the leader of his bribe and the fountain of honour ; shall he bp ashamed of the life that his fathers lived, and of the deeds that have earned him his fame? He at least will never yield nor bow to the English rule. Death must claim him soon, and lie will welcome it when it comes, and will die as ,he has lived, a rebel to the last. — Westminster .Gazette.