To the northward of Hanadra, blue in the sweltering heat-haze, lay
Siroeh, walled in with sun-baked mud and listless. Through a wooden gate
at one end of the village filed a string of women with their water-pots.
Oxen, tethered underneath the thatched eaves or by the thirsty-looking
trees, lay chewing the cud, almost too lazy to flick the flies away.
Even the village goats seemed overcome with lassitude. Here and there
a pariah dog sneaked in and out among the shadows or lay and licked
his sores beside an offal-heap; but there seemed to be no energy in
anything. The bone-dry, hot-weather wind had shriveled up verdure and
ambition together.
But in the mud-walled cottages, where men were wont to doze through the
long, hot days, there were murmurings and restless movement. Men lay
on thong-strung beds, and talked instead of dreaming, and the women
listened and said nothing--which is the reverse of custom. Hanadra was
what it always had been, thatched, sun-baked lassitude; but underneath
the thatch there thrummed a beehive atmosphere of tension.
In the center of the village, where the one main road that led from the
main gate came to an abrupt end at a low mud wall, stood a house that
was larger than the others and somewhat more neatly kept; there had been
an effort made at sweeping the enclosure that surrounded it on all four
sides, and there was even whitewash, peeling off in places but still
comparatively white, smeared on the sun-cracked walls.
Here, besides murmurings and movement, there was evidence of real
activity. Tethered against the wall on one side of the house stood a row
of horses, saddled and bridled and bearing evidence of having traveled
through the heat; through the open doorway the sunshine glinted on a
sword-hilt and amid the sound of many voices rang the jingling of a
spur as some one sat cornerwise on a wooden table and struck his toe
restlessly against the leg.
Another string of women started for the water-hole, with their
picturesque brass jars perched at varying angles on their heads; and as
each one passed the doorway of this larger house she turned and scowled.
A Rajput, lean and black-bearded and swaggering, came to the door and
watched them, standing proudly with his arms folded across his breast.
As the last woman showed her teeth at him, he laughed aloud.
“Nay!” said a voice inside. “Have done with that! Is noticing the Hindu
women fit sport for a Rajput?”
The youngster turned and faced the old, black-bearded veteran who spoke.
“If I had my way,” he answered, “I would ride roughshod through this
village, and fire the thatch. They fail to realize the honor that we pay
them by a visit!”
“Aye, hothead! And burn thy brother's barn with what is in it! The
Hindus here are many, and we are few, and there will be burnings and
saberings a-plenty before a week is past, if I read the signs aright!
Once before have I heard such murmurings. Once before I have seen
chupatties sent from house to house at sunset--and that time blood ran
red along the roadside for a month to follow! Keep thy sword sharp a
while and wait the day!”
“But why,” growled another deep-throated Rajput voice, “does the Sirkar
wait? Why not smite first and swiftly?”
Mahommed Khan moved restlessly and ran his fingers through his beard.
“I know not!” he answered. “In the days when I was Risaldar in the
Rajput Horse, and Bellairs sahib was colonel, things were different! But
we conquered, and after conquest came security. The English have grown
overconfident; they think that Mussulman will always war with Hindu, the
one betraying the other; they will not understand that this lies deeper
than jealousy--they will not listen! Six months ago I rode to Jundhra
and whispered to the general sahib what I thought; but he laughed back
at me. He said 'Wolf! wolf!' to me and drew me inside his bungalow and
bade me eat my fill.”
“Well--what matters it! This land has always been the playground of new
conquerors!”
“There will be no new conquerors,” growled the old Risaldar, “so long as
I and mine have swords to wield for the Raj!”
“But what have the English done for thee or us?”
“This, forgetful one! They have treated us with honor, as surely no
other conquerors had done! At thy age, I too measured my happiness in
cattle and coin and women, but then came Bellairs sahib, and raised the
Rajput Horse, and I enlisted. What came of that was better than all the
wealth of Ind!”
He spread his long legs like a pair of scissors and caught a child
between them and lifted him.
“Thou ruffian, thou!” he chuckled. “See how he fights! A true Rajput!
Nay, beat me not. Some day thou too shalt bear a sword for England,
great-grandson mine. Ai-ee! But I grow old.”
“For England or the next one!”
“Nay! But for England!” said the Risaldar, setting the child down on his
knee. “And thou too, hot-head. Before a week is past! Think you I called
my sons and grandsons all together for the fun of it? Think you I rode
here through the heat because I needed the exercise or to chatter like
an ape or to stand in the doorway making faces at a Hindu woman or to
watch thee do it? Here I am, and here I stay until yet more news comes!”
“Then are we to wait here? Are we to swelter in Siroeh, eating up our
brother's hospitality, until thy messengers see fit to come and tell us
that this scare of thine is past?”
“Nay!” said the Risaldar. “I said that I wait here! Return now to your
own homes, each of you. But be in readiness. I am old, but I can ride
still. I can round you up. Has any a better horse than mine? If he has,
let him make exchange.”
“There will be horses for the looting if this revolt of thine breaks
out!”
“True! There will be horses for the looting! Well, I wait here then and,
when the trouble comes, I can count on thirteen of my blood to carry
swords behind me?”
“Aye, when the trouble comes!”
There was a chorus of assent, and the Risaldar arose to let his sons and
grandsons file past him. He, who had beggared himself to give each one
of them a start in life, felt a little chagrined that they should now
refuse to exchange horses with him; but his eye glistened none the
less at the sight of their stalwart frames and at the thought of what a
fighting unit he could bring to serve the Raj.
“All, then, for England!” he exclaimed.
“Nay, all for thee!” said his eldest-born. “We fight on whichever side
thou sayest!”
“Disloyal one!” growled the Risaldar with a scowl. But he grinned into
his beard.
“Well, to your homes, then--but be ready!”