TALES AND SKETCHES.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 7203, 14 September 1901, Page 1

TALES AND SKETCHES.

CCOPy^^go^ggrgD states, : K. I M . (By RUDYABD KE?LING.) [All Rights Bbseevbd.3 ijra&a CHAPTER XIH. *& s * !flor Hi« own greedimaw killed lie tiger, ton* tte Iwiniter got -the GovcramMit reward D^^t the asane.— Native Proverb. -^ "Who goes to the Hills goes to (his mother." They had crossed! the Setraliks and the baOf-tropical Boon, left Mussoorie ibehind them, and headed. north, along *he narrmr hill-roads. Day after day 'they struck deeper into the huddled mountains, and day after day Kirn. watched the lama return to a man's strength. Among the terraces of tiie Doon, he had leaned on the boys shoulder, ready to profit by wayside halts, tinder the great tramp to Mussoone he diww himself together as an. p'ld- hunter faces a weU-remembered bank, and where he BhooKl hanre sunk exhausted swung nos lo«r draperies him, drew a deep doujjle-lungful of the diamond air, antt walked as only a hillman can Rim, plwM-toed and plains-fed, sweated and rated, astonished. " This is my counwid the lama, "Beside Suehzen this is flatter than a ncefield;" and with; steady driving strokes from the loins he vtxode upwards. But it was on the long downhill marches, three thousand feet m ifaee'hcynis, thaJt he went utterly . away from Kirn, whose back ached with holdin* back,' and whose big toe was nigh cut off by yegraa sandal-string. Through th» Bpeckled: shadow of the great deodar forests, tiwtough oak feathered and plumed pine, out on to the bare hillsides' slippery, Sunburn* grass, «nd back into the woodlands coolth again, till cak gave way to bamiboo and palna of tihe valley, he swung Glancinff back to the twiKght at the huge ridges behind him and the fain*, thin lm« of the road whereby they had come, he would lay out, with a hillman s generous breadth of vision, fresh . marches for 6he morrow; or, halting in the neck of Borne uplifted pass that gave on Spiti and K-ulu, would stretch out his hands yearnfagly towards the fcagh snows of the honlon. -In the -dawns they flared wmdyred above stark blue, as Kedarnaai and Badrinath— kings of that wdMerness— took the fin* < sunlight. All day long, they lay like molten silver tender tihe sun, and at evwrinij put on their jewels again. At first they breathed temperately upon the travellers, winds good to meet when caie crawled over some gigantic Ihogback ; but in a Jew ds-ys, at a height of nine or ten- thousand feet, tiwse breezes bit, and. Kirn kmdly allowed a village of hillmen to acquire merit by giving him a rough blanket-coat. The lama was mildly surprised tihat anyone should object to the knife-edged breezes which lad cut the years off his tfhous&em ' "These are bub the lower thills, chela. •There' is no cold till we come to the *rue Hills." " Adr and water are good 1 , amd the people *re devout enough, butkthe food is very bad;"' Kirn growteeTj we walk as j thought we ■• were mad— -or English. It freezes. at nighi, too." . „. .' "A little, maybe; but only enough to make .old bones rejoice in the sun. We must not always delight in the (soft beds and rich food." "We- anight at the least keep to the road." Kirn had' all a plains-man's affection for the well-trcdden track, not six feet wide, tfhat snaked among the mountains ; but the lama, being Tibetan, could not 'refrain from short cuts over spurs and the rims of graveVstrewn slopes. A 9 he explained to his limping disciple, a man 'bred among mountains can prophesy the course .of a mountain road, and though low-lying clouds might be a hindrance to a ehorfccuttaog stranger, they made no earthly difference to a thoughtful man. • Thus, after long hours of what would be reckoned very fair, mountaineering in civilised countries, would pant over a saddleback, sidle past a few landslips, and drop through forest at an angle of forty-five into the road again. Along their track lay the villages of the hillfolk— mud and earth httte, timbers now and 'then, rudely carved wdtJh an axe, clinging like swallows' nests against the steeps— fuddled on tiny fiats balf-way down a ibhree-thousandi foot p'h's- • cade ; jammed into -a corner between cliffs tfcat funnelled and focussed every Trander- , ing blast; or, for the sake of sumnner pasture, cowering down on a neck that in .winteT would 1 be ten feet deep <in snow. And the people^ — the sallow, greasy, duffle-clad people, with shqrt Jbare legs ami faces almost Esquimauxwould flock out and! adlore. The Plains— iriiodly and geuttl© — had treated the lama as a holy man among Oxoly mem. But the Hills worshipped' him as <wo in the confidence of all the devils. Theirs was an almost obliterated Buddhism, overlaid with a nature worship fantastic as their own landscapes, elaboirate as the terracing, of their tiny fields; but they recognised; the flbig hat, the clicking rosary, and' the rare Chinese texts for great authority, and they respectedl the smart under the hat. .' "We saw three come down over she black Breasts of Eva," said a Betah, w>bo gave them cheese, sour mdlk and «tone-haud bread, one evenomg. "We do mot use that often— except wheni ucalving cows ateay in summer. There is a sudden wind among tiboso stones thatfc oasts men down on the stillest day. But what) should folk care for the Devil Eva I" Then dad Kirn, achimig in every fibre, dizzy with looking down, footsore •with cramping desperate toes into inadequate j crannies, take joy in. the day's march — such J joy as a boy of Sb Xavier's wiw> had won tbe quarter-mile on 'the flat might take in j the .praises of his friends. The hills sweated ths ghi and sugar suet off his bones ; the dry air, taken sobbimgly at the bead, of I cruel -passes, firmed and* built out his upper ribs; and the 'tilted; levels put new, hard muscles into calf and' rthigh. They meditated often on, the Wheel of Life — the more so since, as tihe lama said, they -were freed- from its visible temptations. Except the grey eagle and an occasional far-seen, bear grubbing and rooting on the hillside, the vision of a furious painced leopard met at dawn in a still valley devouring a goat, and now and 1 again a bright-coloured bird, they were alone with the winds a.ndi the grass singling under tie wind. The women of the smoky huts over ■whose roofs the two walked 'as they de6Ccinded the mountains, were unlovely and unclean', wives of many husbands andl afflicted with goitre. The men. were wood cutters when they were not fanners — meek, and of an incredible simplicity. But that suitable discourse might not fail, Fate sent t-hem, overtaking andi overtaken upon the roaid, the courteous Dacca, physician, who paid for his food in ointmembs good for goitre and councils that restore pence between msn. and women. Hit* seemed) t& know these hills as wall ns he knew the hill dialects, and gave the lama, tie' -Jie of the land towards Ladakn and Tibet. He said they couldi ifitonn to the Plains at any moment. Meantime, fcr such as loved mountains, yonder road' might am^ne. This was not all revealed in. a breath, bub at evening encounters <m the stone threshing floors, when, jpatfente disposed of, the doc- ,

tor would) smoke onid -"tin* lama snuff, while Kirn watched tihe -vre© caws grazing ooi tie •bouse-topg, or -tihirew ibta aoul after hds eyes aoross the deep blue gulfs between, range alnd range. Andl there were talks epar*b in the dark woods, -when the doctor would seek planifcs, andl Kirn, as btcd'dimg physician, moist accompany Mm. " Ycu see, Mr O'Hara, I do not know ■what the deuce-an'-all I ehall dlo when. I find our sporting friends; bufc if you Trill knudfy keep within sighib < of my umbrella, which is fine fixed point for cadastral survey, I feel much better." Kirn looked out across the jungle of peaks. "This is not my country, hakim. Easier, I think, to find one louse in a bearskin." " Oah, thatfc is my strong points. There is no ihurry for Hurree. They were at Leh not so long ago. They said they bad come froini the Kara Karum with their headis and horns and all. lam onlee afraid they will hare sent back all their letters and compromising things from Leh into Russian territoree. Of course tfh«y will walk away as far to the East as possible — just to show that they were never among the Western : States: -You do not know the Hills." He scratched 1 with a twig on the earth. "Look ! They should have come in by Srinagar or Abbottabad. Thatt is their short road — down the river by Bunji and Asfcor. But they have made mischief in the west. So" — he drew a furrow from right to left — "they march and. they march away East to Leh (ah! it is cold there), and down the Indus to Hanle (I know that road), aaid then dtown, you see, to Basfiahr and Chini valley. That is ascertained by process of elimination, and also by asking questions? from people that I cure so well. Our friends have been a long time playing about, and producing impressions. So they are wellknown from far off. You will see me catch them somewlrere in Chini valley. Pleas© keep your eye on the umbrella." Ifc nodded like a wind-blown harebell down the valleys and round the mountain ' sides, and' in due time the lama and; Kirn, who steered by compass, would overhaul it, vending ointments and' powders at eventide. "We came by such .and . such /a way !'? The lama Would throw a careless finger backward at the ridges, amd the umbrella would expend itself in compliments. They crossed a snowy pass in o&ld moonlight, when the lama, "mildly chaffing Kirn, went through up 'to his knees, like a Bactrian camel — the snow-bred, shag-haired sort that come in:to the Kashmir Serai. They dipped across beds of light snow arid snow-powderedi shale, where they took refuge from a gale in a camp of Tibetans, hurrying down tiny sheep, each laden with a bag of borax. They came down upon grassy shoulders, still snow-speckled, and through forest, to grass anew. • For all their marchings, Kedarnath and Badrinath were not impressed ; and it was only after days of travel that Kirn, uplifted upon some insignificant ten-thousand-feet hummock, could see that a shoulder knot or •horn of the two grea* lords had — ever so slightly — changed outline. At .'last they enitered a world within a world — a valley of leagues where the high hills wece fashioned of the mere rubble and refuse from off the knees of the mountains. Here one- day's march carried them no further, it seemed, than a dreamer's clogged # pace 'brings lrim in jaigh-trnajce. - ~33ig\-'; skirted a shoulder painfully for hours, and behold it was but «a outlying boss in an outlying buttress of the main pile. A rounded meadow revealed itself, when' they had reached it, for a vast tableland running fair into the valley. Three days later, it was a dim fold in the earth to southward. "Surely the Gods Lye here," said. Kirn, •beaten down by the silence and appalling sweep and dispersal of the cloud-shadows after rain. " This is no place for men !" "Long and long ago," said the lama, as to himself, "it was asked of the Lord whether the world were everlasting. To this the Excellent One returned no answer. . .■ . When I was in Ceylon a wise Seeker confirmed that from the gospel which is written in Pali. Certainly, since we know the way to Freedom, the question were unprofitable, but— look, and know illusion, ehelai! These are the true Hills! They are like my hills by Suchzen. Never were such hills I" Above them, still enormously above them, earth towered away towards the snotf-line, where from east to west across hundreds of miles, ruled as with a ruler, the last of the bold birches stopped. Above that, in scarps and blocks unheaved, the rocks strove to fight their heads above the white smother. Above these . again, changeless since the world's beginning, but chainging to fcf ery mood of 6un and cloud, lay out the eternal snow. They could -see blobs and blurs on its face, where storm and wandering wullie-wa got up to dance. Below them, as they stood, the forest slid away in a sheet of blue-green for mile upon mile; below the forest was a village in its sprinkle of terraced fields and steep grazing grounds ; below the village they knew, though a thunderstorm worried- and growled -there for the moment, a pitch of twelve or fifteen hundred feeb gave to the moist valley where the streams gather that are the mothers of young Suiluj. As usual, the lama had led' ihim by cowtrack'and byroad, far from ithe -main rout© along which Hurreo Babu, that " fearful mam," had bucketed three days before through a storm to which nine Englishmen out of ten. would have given full right of way. Hurree was no game shot' — t-he snick of a trigger made him change colour — bub, as he himself would have said, he was "ifairly effeecienfc stalker," and he had raked the huge valley with a pair of cheap binoculars to some purpose. Moreover, the white of worn ' canvas tents against green carries far. Hurree Babu had seen, all he wanted to see when he sab on the ithresh-ing-floor of Ziglaur, twenty miles away as the eagles flies, and forty by road — that is to say, two small dots, which one day were just below the snow-line, and' ithe next had moved downward perhaps six inches on the hill-side. Once cleaned out and set to the work, fat bare legs could cover a surprising; amount of ground, and this was the reason why, while Kirn and 'the laima lay -in a leaky hut «t Ziglaur till the storm should be overpassed, an oily, wet, but always smiling Bengali, talking the best of English with the vilest of phrases, was ingratiating himself with ■two sodden and rather rheumatic foreigners. Ho had arrived, revolving many wild schemes, on tt.e heels of a thunderstorm wniob. had split a, pin© over against ths camp, and co convinced) a dozen or two forcibly-impressed baggage-coolies the day was inauspicious for farther travel x\uui wj-vh one accord they had thrown down their loads and jibbed. They -were subjects of a Hill-Rajah, -who farmed out their .services, «s is the custom, for his private gain ; and 1 , to add to their personal uvs tastes, the strange Sahib had already threatened them with rifles. The most cf thean knew rifles, and Sahibs of old: they were trackers and shikaaris of the Xoifthern valleys, keen nftei bear and wild- goa,fc ; hue they had never been thus trusted in their lives. So the forest took them to her bosom, and, for all oaths and clamwur, refused, to restore. There was -no Meid to feign madm-Ess or — tie. Bubu had thought of another means of seeming a welcome. He wrung out his wet clothe*" slipped on h.:.g patent-l'ea.fcher shoes, opened

the blue and 1 white umbreiUa, and, with mdmcing gait and! a heart beating against his 'tonsils appeared 'as "agent for his Royal Highness, the Rajah of Ramipur, gentlemen. What can Ido far you, please?" The gentlemen* Wctr© delighted 1 . One was visibly French, the other Russia©, but they sspofce Engliishi mob much inifer'iw to the Babu's. They begged his kind offices. Their native servants had) gone sick at Leh, They had. tarried! on because they were anxious j to bring the spoils of the chase to Simla era the skins grew mwth -eaten. They bore a gemeial letter of introduction (the Babu | salaamed! to it orientally) to all Government officials. No, they had nob met any other shooting pairti.es en .route. They did for themselves. They had 1 plenifcy of supplies. They only wished to push on as soon as might be. At ihis he waylaid a cowerfinig MMmaai among the trees, and after three minutes' talk and; a little silver (one caronotb be economical upon Staite service, though HuiTee's heart bled at the waste), tihe eleven coolies and) the three hangers-cm reappeared. At least the Babu would be a witness to oppression. "My royal master, he will be much annoyed, but these people axe onlee common people and grossly ignorant. If your honors wiJl kindly overioofc unfortunate affair, I shall be much pleased. In a little while rain will stop end) we can then proceed. You have been shooting, eh? That is fine perfonmanoe !" He skipped nimbly from one kilta to the njexfc, making pretence to adjust each conical basket. The Englishman) is not, as a rule, faandliaT with the Asiatic, but he would not strike across the wrist a kindly Babu who had accidentally upset a kilta with a red oilskin top. On the other hand, h& would not press drink upon, a Babu were he never so f riemdly, nor would he invite him to meat- The strangers dtfd) all these things, and askedi many questions — 'about women mostly— to which Hume© returned gay and. unsfeniddiedi answers. They gave him a glass of whitish fluid like to gin,, and then nun ; amd in a little- time Ms gravity departed ifronx him. He became thickly treasonous, and spoke in terms of sweeping imdeeency of a. Government which h'a-d forced upon him a white man's education, and neglected to supply him -withi a white mans salary He babbled tales of oppression and wrong' ■ till the t«ws raoi down Ms cheeks for the .miseries of bus land. Then he staggered off, singing , love songs of Lower Bengal, and collapsed upon a wet tree-tounk. Never was so unfortunate a product of English rule m Indaa more unhappily thrust upon aliens. "They are all just of that pattern," .said one sportsman to the other in French.. " When we get into India proper thou wilt see. I should 'like *o> visit this Rajah. 0n« might- epeak the good, word there. It Is -possible that he, has heard of us and wishes to signify Ihcs goodwill." "We have not time. We must get into Simla as soon as may be," Ms companion replied 1 . "For my own part, I wish our reports had been sent back from Hilas, or even Leh."" "The English post is better and safer. Remember we are given all facilities— and name of God— they give them to us, too ! j Is it unbelievable stupidity?" -iz-y-lt .is pridte^— pride, that deserves and will receive 'punishment.'.' "To fight a fellow-Continental in our game is something. There is a risk aittached, but these people — bah! It is too easy." "Pride — all pride, my friend." "Now what th© dieuce is good I . of Cha-n---dernagOTe being so close to Calcutta and all," said' Hurree, snaring open-mouthed on tih© sodden unoss, "if I cannot understand their French. They talk so particularly fast ! It would have 'been much better to cut their beastly throats." When he presented (himself again he was ! racked with a headache — penitent, and volubly afraid that in his drunkenness he might (have been indiscreet. He loved the British Government— it was the source of all prosperity and) honour, and his master at Rampur held the very same opinion. Upon this the mem began to deride bim and to quote past words, till step by step, with deprecating smirks, oily grins, 'and leers of infinite cunning, the poor Babu was beaten out of his defences and forced to speak — truth. When Lurgan was told the tale later, he mourned aloud that he could not 'have ibeen dm the place of the stubborn., inattentive coolie®, who with grass mats over their heads and the raindrops puddling in their footprints, waited on the weather. All the Sahibs of their acquaintance — rough-clad men, joyously returning year after year to their chosen Sfullies — had servants and cooks and orderlies, very often •hillmeai. Thesa Sahibs travelled without retinue. Therefore they were poor Sahibs, and ignorant ; for no Sahib in his senses? would follow a Bengali's advice. But the Bengali, appearing from somewhere, had given them money, and would make phift witto their dialect. U>cd to comprehensive all-treatment from their o-vm colour, they suispected a* 'trap somewhere, and stood, by to run if occasion offered. Then through the new-washed air, steaming with delicious earth smells, the Babu led the way down the slopes — waJking ahead of the coolies in pride ; walking behind the foreigners in humility. His thoughts were many and various. The least of them would have interested his companions beyond words. But he was an agreeable guide, ever keen to point out- 1-1)6 beauties of his royal master's domain, lie peopled the hills with anything they had a mind to slay — than*, ibex or markhor, and bears by Elisha's allowance He discoursed of botany and ethnology with" unimpeachable accuracy, and his store of loojl legends — he had been a trusted agent of the State for fifteen years, remember — was inexhaustible. "Decidedly this fellow is an original,"; said the taller of the two foreigners. "He is like the nightmare of Viennese courier." "He represents in -petto India in transition — the monstrous hybridism of East and West," the Russian replied. "It is we who can deal with Orientals." He has lost 'his own country and has not acquired any other. But he has a most complete hatred tf his conquerors. Listen. He confides to me last might," etc. Under the striped umbrella Hurree Babu was straining ear and brain to follow tne quick-poured Trench, and keeping both iyes on a kilta full of maps and documents— an fxtra, large one with a double red oilskin cover. He did not wish to steal anything, j He only desired to know what to steal, and, incidentally, how to get away when, he had .stolon it. 'He thanked all the Hods of Hill- \ dustan, and Herbert Spencer, that then; remained; some valuable to s-'tta-l. | On the second <la.y tht mad rose steeply to a. grass spur above t Jit- lorcsr ; ar.<i it was here, about- sunset, that they cjjiip across an ai;ed lama — but they called him a borze — sitting cross-logged abnvo a mysterious char;. heM down hy «trr.os. wlm.'U I he w;is explaining tn a, ynwp; »:mj. cy:de:i!ly a, neophyte, uf ciiiiruV'ir. :h<muh unwasaln. beauty." The ytripeil umbivila- h;ul been sighted half a mardi away, ::nd Kirn had suggested a halt till it «::;mc up to \):om. "Ha!" said Hurree I'nhxu resovrceful as Puss-iu-Boots. "That- is eminent, local j holy ni;:n. Probably subject «•]' my royal maiter." I

"What is he doing? It is very curious." "He is expounding holy picture — all hand-worked." The two men stood bare-headed in the wash of the afternoon sunlight low across the gold-coloured grass. The sullen cooldes, glad of the check, halted and slid down their loads. " Look," saad' the frenchman. "It is (like a picture for the birth of a religion— the first teacher and the first disciple. Is he a Buddhist?" " Of some debased kind," the other answered. "There are no true BuddbifiW among the Hills. But look ab the foldsof the .drapery. Look at his eyes— how In* solent ! Why does this make one feel 1 that we are so young a people?" The speaker struck passionately at a tall weed. "We have nowhere left our mark yet. Nowhere! That, do you understand, is what disquiets me." He scowled at the placid face, and the monumental calm of the pose. "Have patience. We shall make youor mark together— we and you young people Meantime, draw this picture." The Babu advanced loftily, his back out of all keeping with, his deferential speech, or his wink towards Kirn. " Holy One, these be Sahibs. My medicines cured one of a flux, and I go into Simla to oversee- his recovery. They wish to see thy picture " "To heal the sick is always good. This is the Wheel of Life," said the lama, "the same I showed thee in the hut at Ziglaur when the rain fell." " And to hear thee expound it." . The lama's eyes lighted at the. prospect of new listeners. "To expound the Most Excellent Way is good. Have. they any knowledge of Hindi, such as had thje Keeper -of Images?" | " A little, maybe." JT Hereat, simply as a child engrossed -wiljh. a new game, the lama threw back his heap and began the full-throated invocation j>f the Doctor of Divinity ere he opens *|c full doctrine^ The strangers leaned ,jjn their alpenstocks and listened. Ki|p, squatting humbly, watched the red sunlight on their faces, and the blend and parting of their long shadows. They wore un-English leggings and curious, girt-in belt?, that reminded him hazily of the pictures in a book at St Xavier's library- : "The Adventures of a Young Naturalist in Mexico" was its name. Yes, they looked very like the wonderful M. Sumicbrast of that tale, and very unlike the "highly unscrupulous folk" of Huntee Babu's "imagining. ' The coolies, earthcoloured and mute, crouched reverently some twenty or thirty yards away, and the Babu, the slack of his' thin gear . snapping like a signal-flag in the chill breeze, stood by with an air cf happy proprietorpm P- „ j " These are the men," Hurree whispered, as the ritual went on. and the two whites followed (he grass blade sweeping = from Hell to Heaven and hack again*. "All their books are in the large kilta' with tihe reddish top — books and reports and maps. — and I have seen a Kind's letter that either Hilas or Bunar has written. They guard it most carefully. They have sent nothing back from Hilas or Leh. That is sure." " Who. is with them?! 1 "Only the beggar-coolies. Th.ey have no servants. They are so close they cook their own food." . „ , . """But '■wLi ; fc"anT I to-do.?' — "Wait and see. Only if any chance comes- to me thou wilt know where to seek for the papers." . "This were better in Mah'bub Ali's hands than a Bengali's." said Kirn, scornfully. "There are more ways of getting to a sweetheart than butting down a wall." " See here the Hell appointed for avarice on-rl greed. Planked upon the one side by Desire a.ncl on the other •by Weariness." The lama warmed to his work, and one of th* strangers sketched him in the quickfading lijrht. "That is enough," the man paid at last, brusquely. " I cannot understand 'him, but I want, that picture. He is a. better artist than I. Ask him if he will sell it." " Ha says, ' No, sax,' " the Babu ■repli-S'd. The lama,, of coui-se, would no' more havf parted with his chart to sa casual wayfarer than an archbishop would pawn, 'the holy vessels of a cathedral. All Tibet is full cf cheap reproductions of the Wheel ; but the lama was an artist, as well as a wealthy abbot in his own place. "Perhaps in three days, or four, or ten, if I perceive that the Sahib is «t> Seeker and of good ur.d<ers.Uwding, I may myself draw h.:m another. But -this was used for the initiation of a novice. Tell him so, hakim." "He wishes it now — for money." Tho lama shook his head slowly, ar.d begun to fold up the Wheel. The Russian, on his side, saw no more thaw an. unclean eld man haggling over a dirty piece of paper. He drew out a 'handful of rupees, and snatched half-jesiingiy at the chart, wujch tore in the lama's grip. A low murmur of horror went up from the- coolies —some' of whom were Spiti men-, and, by th€ir lights, good Buddhists. The lama rose at. the insult ; his hand went to the heavy iron pencase that :s> die priest's weapon, and the Babu danced in agony. " Now you see — you see why I wanted witnesses." They are highly unscrupulous people, Oh, Sar! Sar! You must not hit holy m-an.!" "Chela! He has defiled the Written Word!" Jt was too late. Befor? Kirn could) ward him eft", ;the Russian struck the old- micn^ full on, the face. Next instant, he was rolling over and over dc-wn hill with Kirn at hi -s throat. The blow liwd waked every unknown <lie-vil in the boy's blood, an-d the sudden full of his enemy did the rest. The lama dropped to his knees, half stunned ; tlvj coolies under their loads fit a. up the hill as fast as plainsmen run across the level. They bad seen sacrilege- unspeakable, and it benoved them K- get away before tho Gods aixl ctav.ite of the hilte took ve-n---gsan-ce-. The Frenchman ran towards the Lama, fumMing at his revolver with some notion of maknir him a. hesta-ge for his companion. A shower of cutting s tomes— h-illme.il are very straight slices — drove him away, and a coolie, from Acchung snatched thip'lama into tho stamped?. A:l ca-me about as sw.ftly as the sudden- mouE.ra.ai darkness. ' They have taken the baggage- aneTi all the guns/ TPllcdi tbe Freachmaji, firufig blindly into the twilight. " All right . Sar ! All right ! Don't school . I go to rescue," and Hurrer, pounding down th.s slope, ca.«t himself bodily upon the delighted and ast^ry.shed Kirn, who w;« banctin-g his breathles-s ff-c'i head against a boulder. " G-j h:u-k to the coolies." v.-hisperrd the Babu in his ear". " Th..Ky h:ive !ho hairgairc The- papers are in tho k:!ia wilh the red top. bv.t. 10-«k throu-h ;ili. Take (heir ]>aiT!:s. r,n.l sp.-'rial-'y tin.- mur.:>!:i. Go! The i/iiV.-.-t )i!" n ci.ni '-''. " Kirn iT.rc up hiil. A rcvr^Ter-b-Liilet. ra-ng o:\ a, r"tl: by his «-kle, a::d- li-e cowered p:;rti'«-l,r^-wis: . "If y>n .tiM-'-ot," Khoij'-wl Hurreo, " they v.-ii.'. <i':':-c-'U"i vv.il ;\im;hil;vt.r; us. I lmvo re-^---<-u;<i -'V.t" gcntl'inan, Sar. Tlii 1 ? i.^ py.rUculsrly rl'M^L-rnus." ■" Fly Joys !" Kirn wn-s thinkint; hard in English. "This i« dam-tight place, but I think it is self-defence.'' He fell in. lus

bosom for Mabb'ub's gift, and uncertaiinly — save for a few practice shots in the Bikaner desert, he had 1 never used tihe little gun— pulled trigger. "What did I say, Sar!" The Baibu seemed to be in. tears. " Come down here and assist to resuscitate. We are all up a tree, I tell you." The shots ceased. There was a sound of stumbling tfeet, and Kirn hurried upward through fixe gloom swearing like a cat — or a country-bred. "Did they -wound thee, chela?" called the lama above him. " No. And tihiou?" He dived into a clump of stunted, firs. "TJmbnrt. Oome away. We go with these folk to Shamleg'h-under-the-Snow." "But not before we have done justice," a voice cried. "I have got the Sahibs' guns — all four. Let us go down." " He struck -tfl*e Holy One — we saw it ! Our cattle will be barren — our wives will cease to bear! The snows will slide upon Us as we go borne. ... On, top of all other oppression too!" The tettle fir-clump filled with clamouring coolies — panic-stricken, and in their terror capable of anything. The man from Aochung clicked the . breech-bolt of his gun impatiently, and mads as to go down hill, j "Wait a little, Holy On©; they cannot go far, wai* till I return." "It is this person who has suffered wrong," said the lama, Ms ihand 1 over hie brow. " For that very reason," -was the reply. "If this person overlooks! it, your -hands are clean. Moreover, ye acquire merit by obedience." "Wait, and we will all go to Shamlegh to,getlier," the man 'insisted. For a axioiment, for ■just so long as it .needs to stuff a carfrid'ge into a breedhloader,, the lama hesitated. Then he rose to his feet, and Jaid a finger on the mam's shoulder. " Hast thou heard? I say there shall be no killing— l ■ who was Abbot of Such-zen. Is dt any lusb of thine to be re-born as ■a rat, or a snake under the caves — a worm in the beliy of tbe most mean beast? Is. it thy wish to " The man from Ao-chung fell to has knees, for the voice botomed like a Tibetan devil-gong. " Ai, ai !" eried 1 the Spiti men. "Do not curse ttis> — dlo nob curse him. It was but his zeal, Holy One! ... Put diown tine rifle, fool!" , "Anger om anger! Evil on evil! There will be no killing. Let the priest-beaters go in bondage to their own acts. Just. and sure is the Wheel, swerving not a Jhair! They will be born many times— in torment." His head drooped, and he leaned heavily on Eim's shoulder. " I have come near to great evil, chela," he whispered in that dead' hush under fhe pines. " I was tempted to loose the bullet ; and truly, ra Tibet there would ihave been a !foeavy and 1 a slow dteath for them. . , . He struck me across the face . . upon the flesh, . . ." He slid to the ground, breathing heavily, and Kirn cou!d hear the over-driven heart bump and check. " Have they hurt him to 'the death ?" said the Ao-chung man, while the others stood mute , ' • ■Kinr-faielfr-tmr'i&sf body in de&dly-'iear. " Nay," he cried passionately, " this is only a weakness." Then he remembered that he was a -white man, -with a white man's camp-fittings at his service. " Open the kiltas ! The Sahibs may have a medicine." " Oho ! Then I know it," said the Aochung man with a laugh. "Not for five years was I Yankling Sahib's shikarri without knowing that medicine. I too have tested it. Behold!" He drew from his breast a bottle of cheap whisky — such as is sold to explorers at Leh — and cleverly forced a little between the lama's teeth. " So I did 1 when Yankling Saihib twisted his foot beyond Astor. Aha! I have already looked into their baskets— but we will make fair division at Shamlegh. Give him a little more. It is good medicine. Feel! His heart grows better now. Lay his head down and 1 rub a little on the chest. If he had waited quietly while I accounted for thfa Saihibs this would never have come. But perhaps the Sahibs may chase us here. Then it would not be wrong to shook them with their own guns, heh?" " One is paid, I think, already," said Kirn between his teeth. " I kicked him in the groin as we went down hill. Would I ted killed him!" "It is well to be brave when one does not live in Raanpur," said one whose hut lay within a few miles of 'the Rajah's rickel'tv palace. "If we get a bad name among the" Sahibs none will employ us as shikarris any more." r 'oh, but these are not Angrezi Sahibs -^not merry -minded men like Fostum Sahib or Yankling Sahib. They arc foreigners — they camnot speak Angrezi as do Sahibs." Here the lama coughed and sat up, groping for the rosary. " There shall be no killing," he murmured. "Just is the Wheel! Evil on evil "Nay, Holy One. We are all here." Tie Ao-chung man timidly patted his feet. "Esccpfc by thy order, no man shall be slain. Rest awhile. We will make a little camp here, and later, m the moon rises, we go to Shamlcgh-under-the-Snow." " After a blow," said a spiii man sententiously, "it- is best to sleep." " There is>, as it were, a. dizziness at tbe biick.ef my neck, and a pinching in it. Let me lay my head ou thy lap, chela. \ I am ;un old man, but not free from passion. . . . We must think of the Cause of Things." •' Give him a, blanket. We dare not Light a fire lest the Sahibs see." "Bettor get away to Shamlegh. None will follow us to Shamlegh. ' This was the nervous Rampur man. " I have been Fostum Sabib"s shikarri, ;nid I am Yankling Sahib's shikarii. I should have been with Yankling Sahib now but for 'this cursed beegar (the corvee). Let two men w-atch below with the guns lest the Sahibs do more foolishness. I shall not leave this Holy On p." They sat down a little apart from the liinia, and, *-fcer listening awhile, passed round a water-pipe whose, receiver was an old Day ;t nd Matt in blacking-bottle. The of. the red charcoal ay it went from haivd to band lit up iJio narrow, blinking eves, ihc li.iyh Chinese cheek bimes, ar.'Ct tlio bull threads t-ha.fc melted 1 away into iho fl'iik duffle folds rmmd : .t-Lif/^l-jOulders. They locked like kobold? from some magic mine — gnomes of the- hills in conclave. And ' while they talked 'the -voices of tlio sr.ow w.ittTs round thorn diminished one by or.* as the. night fros-D choked 1 ami clogged the uiriDeb. | "Wow ho stand up against v* !" paid- aFpili nitUL admiring. "I remrmbcr an eld ibsx, Mit Ladakh way, that- -Dupoivt Sahib mi.-ped on a shoulder shot, sevui sreasens back, standing up jiivt like hrni. Dupont Sitii." was v, goc-d siiikarri." "Not as grod :ts Y.i-rklvng- iS.-rtib.' 1 The | Ao-e]iung m-:m tmok a. pull o* -l.h? whisky bottle a : ndi pius'Spd' it over. "Now, -hca-r in.c — unless any other m-rm thinlis by knows i more." j The chalk-Tigp was no-t tnken up; "We go to Sham!egh when the mnon rises. There -\vo. will fairly divide' t-lio bag- j gage between, us. T run conceirt with this j new little, rifle and all its cartridges." j

"Are the bears emly bad oni thy holdinjg?" saidl a mate, suckinig at the .pipe. "No; but musk pods are wor*h six rupees apiece .now, and thy women can have tbs camwas of the ten>ts and 'some of the cockling gear. We will! do all that at Sbannleghi before dawn. Then we all go our Tjrtays. : , remembering tihaib we have merver seen <xr taken servioe "with these Sahibs, whio may, indieed, say that we have stolen, their baggage." "That is well for thee, but what will our Rajah say?" " Who is to tell 'him? Those Sahibs, who eMmet speak our talk, or the Babu. who for his own ends gave us money? Will he lead; an army against us? What evidience will remain? That we d*> not need we slhal throw on- Shamlegh midden, where no man has y«t set foot." " Who is at •Shamlegh. this -sunumir?" The place was only a .grazing centre of three or four jhuta. . " The Woman of Shamlegh. She has no love for Sahdbs, as we know. The others can be pleased) with Bttib presents ; aawl hero is enough for us all." He patted) tihe fat sidles of the nearest' basket. "But — but- " / ■ "I have said they aira not true Sahibs. AH thear skins and beads ■•■ were bough* in tbe bazaar at Leh. I know the marks. I showed them to ye lasfa march." " True. They were all bought skins amd heads. Some 'hsui even the moth in them." That was a shrewd/ argument and the Ao-chung . man knew ihis fellows. " If the worst comes to the worst-, I shtall tell YamkEng S«Mb, who is a man of merry miiind, aaid he will laugh. We are not doing any .wiwag to any Sahibs whom we know. They are priest beaters. They frightened: U3. We fled ! Who knows were we dropped the baggage? Do ye thiaok Yankling Sahib wiE permit d'own-co'iaitTy police wander all over the h'itts, disturbing ihis gainiE'? It is a far cry from Simla to China, and farther from .Shiamleghi to Shumtegh-midden. " "So be it, but I carry the -big kilta:. The basket wirh the red top that the Sahibs pack * themselves every morning." "Thus it is proved," said the Shamlegh man, adroitly, " that they are Pahibs of no account. »Who ever heard of Fostum Sahib, of Yankling Sahib, or even the little . Peel Sahib that site up of eights to shoot serow — I say, who ever heard of these Sahibs coming into, the hills without a down-oountry cook, and ai bearer, and — and all manner of well-paid, high-handed and oppressive folk in their tail? How cam they make trouble? What of the kilta?" | "Nothing, but that it is full of tihe I 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 idol^ are beyond my comprehension. It is no plunder for simple bill-folk." "The old man still sleeps. Hist! We will ask his chela." The Ao-chung man refreshed himself, and swelled with pride of leadership. ' "We have here," he whispered, " a kilta whose nature we do not know." " Bu^l^dOt" said. Kirn, cautiously ? ., The, lama, drew breach in "natural/^ easy sleep, and Kirn had been thinking of Hurree's last words. As a player of the Great Game, he was disposed jusfc then to reverence the Babu. "It is a kilta witb a red top, full of very wonderful things, not tp be handled by fools." "I said it; I said.it," cried the bearer of ithat burden. " Thinkest thou it will betray us?" "' Not if it be given to me. I will draw out its magic. Otherwise it will do great harm." " A priest always takes his share." Whisky was demoralising" the Aochung man. " Ifc is no matter to me," Kirn answered, I with the craft of his mother country. " Share it among you, and see what comes!" " Nr.t I. I was only jesting. Give the I order. There is more than enough for us all. We go our way from Shamlegh in the dawn." They arranged and rearranged their artless plans for another hour, while Kirn shivered with cold and pride. The 'humour of the situation tickled tha Irish and the Oriental in his soul. Here were the emdssaries of the dread Power of the North, very pessibly as great in their own land as Ma'hbub cr Colonel Creighton, suddenly smitten helpless. One of them, he privately knew, would be lame for a time. They htid made promises to Kings. Toi night they lay out somewhere below him, chartless, "food'less, tentless, gunless — except for Hurree Babu, guideless. And this collapse of their Great Fame (Kirn wondered to whom they would repoi-t it), this panicky bolt into the night, had come about through no craft of Hume's, or contrivance c.f Kirn's, but simply, beautifully, and inevitably as the capture of Malhbub's faquir-friends by the zealous young policeman at Umbalia. "They are there — witn nothing; and by Jove, it is cold! I am here with sill their things. Oh, they will be angry! I I am sorry for Hurree Babu." Kirn might have saved his pity, for though at that moment the Bengali suffered acutely in the flesh, his soul was puffed and lofty. A mile down the hill, on the edge of the pine-forest, two half-frozen men — one powerfully sick at intervals — were varying mutual recriminations with the most poignant abuse of the Babu, who seemed distraught with terror. They de- ! manned a plan of action. He explained that they were ver; lucky to be alive ; that their coolies, ii not then stalking them, had passed beyond recall ; that the Rajah, hCs 'master, was ninety nrles away, and, jo far from lending "them money and a retinuu for the Simla journey,' would surely ca."?t them into prison, if he heard that they had hit a priest. He enlarged on 'this <sin ar.d its ccr.sequences til! they bade him change 'the .subject. Their one hope was unostentatious n.'p'ht from village to village till they reached civilisation; and, for the hundredth time dissolved in tears, be <l i emar.'i.le-.l of the hi&'h stars why the Sahibs '• had beaten holy man." Ten steps would have taken Hurree into the creaking gloom utterly beyond their reach — to the shelter and food of the nearest village, where glib-tongucet doctors were scarce. But he preferred to endure cold, belly-pinch, bad words, and occasional blows in the company of his honoured employers. Crouched against a tree-trunk, he Miiffed •dolefully. "And have you thought." said Ihe uninjured man hotly, "what sort- -of spectacle we shall present w;uxiern<j through thes* hills- among the** aborigines?" Hurree Babu had thought of littl? tlse for ?nm« hours, but the remark was nob to his address. "We cannot wander! I can hardly walk." groanprl Kin's victim. "Perhaps the h'»ly man will be mercif'il iti loving kindnes.*. Sitr, othcnv-i:;c " "I p-omi.«e myself .*»■ peculiar pleasure in emptying my revolver into- that youn^ . bouse when next we meet," was the v.n- I Christian answer. | " Revolveis ! Vengeance ! Bor.zes '." I Hmive cr;>uch:d lower. The war was j bve:vk ; .iisr out afresh. "Have- you con.-:d- ' eraiion for our loss? The baggage! The j baggage!'' He could hear the sneaker j

literally dancing on the grass. " Everything we bore ! Everything we have secured! Our. gains! Eight months' work ! Do you know what that means? Decidedly it is we who can deal with Orientals ! Oh, you have done well." They fell to it in several tongues, and Hurree smiled. Kirn was with the kiltas, and in the kiltas lay eight months of good diplomacy. There was no means of communicating with the boy, but he could be trusted. For the rest, he could stagemanage the journey through the hills so that Hilas, Bunar, and four hundred miles of hill-roads should tell the tale for a gen- \ eration. Men who cannot control their own coolies are little respected in the Hills, "md the hillman has a very keen sense of humour. " If I had done it myself," thought Hurree, "it would not have been better ; and, 1 by Jove, now I think of it, of course X arranged it myself. How quick I have been! Just when I ran down hill I thought it ! The outrage was accidental, but onlee me could ha,ve worked it— ah — for all it was dam well worth. Consider the moral effect upon these ignorant people ! Is 6 treaties — no papers — no written docuihents at.. ill — and me to interpret for them. How I shall laugh with the Colonel! 1 wish I had their, papers also; but you cannot occupy two places in space simultaneously. That is axiomatic." '- (To be continued.)