The Rolling Stones - "Angie"

A very nice song of one of the best rock bands of the world. I hope you like it!!

After the Second Group Work

Some tips for making questions:

Every time you make a question remember: 

It isn't enough to change your tone: 

"You get your suitcase?" X (You are thinking in Spanish)
You should say: "Did you get your suitcase?" 

"You went to the Club?" X (You are thinking in Spanish)
You should say: "Did you  go to the club?"

You must change the words order when a verb is composed by two words: 

" Have been you worried?" X
You should say: "Have you been worried?" (The subject goes between the two words verb)

"Did lose you the suitcase?" X
You should say: "Did you lose the suitcase?" (The subject goes between the two words verb)
  

If you make a subordinated question, construct it in an affirmative form:

"Do you remember where did you leave the suitcase?" X
You should say: "Do you remember where you left the suitcase?"  (The subordinated question won't take auxiliaries, the verb will go in the tense you need, and you won't change the words order)

"Do you know what did the suitcase have?" X
 You should say: "Do you know what the suitcase had?" (The subordinated question won't take auxiliaries, the verb will go in the tense you need, and you won't change the words order)

Pronouns after a verb or a preposition:

Polly helped she. X
You should say: Polly helped her. 

Corsellis listened to they. X 
 You should say: Corsellis listened to them.

These are the correct forms for each:

I : Me
You: You
He: Him
She: Her
It: It
We: Us
They: Them

 

 

FRIENDS - Joey tries to speak French

What do you think is Joey's difficulty when he wants to speak French?
Do you feel like Joey when you learn English?

"The Zimmers" in a cover of The Who's "My Generation"

And talking about diversity, this is a British Band of old people that decided to get old,  living their passion.

Present Perfect vs. Simple Past

This is a video that shows the uses of Present Perfect and Simple Past. If you want to go to the Real English page, here you have the link. Enjoy it!!

http://www.real-english.com/

Enjoy The Beatles

"All is truth" by Walt Whitman

Walt Whitman
1819–92, American poet, b. West Hills, N.Y. Considered by many to be the greatest of all American poets, Walt Whitman celebrated the freedom and dignity of the individual and sang the praises of democracy and the brotherhood of man. His Leaves of Grass, unconventional in both content and technique, is probably the most influential volume of poems in the history of American literature.
I celebrate myself; / And what I assume you shall assume/ For every atom belonging to me, as good belongs to you. —Leaves of Grass

All is Truth

O ME, man of slack faith so long!
Standing aloof—denying portions so long;
Only aware to-day of compact, all-diffused truth;
Discovering to-day there is no lie, or form of lie, and can be none, but grows as inevitably upon itself as the truth does upon itself,
Or as any law of the earth, or any natural production of the earth does.	5
(This is curious, and may not be realized immediately—But it must be realized;
I feel in myself that I represent falsehoods equally with the rest,
And that the universe does.)
Where has fail’d a perfect return, indifferent of lies or the truth?
Is it upon the ground, or in water or fire? or in the spirit of man? or in the meat and blood?	10
Meditating among liars, and retreating sternly into myself, I see that there are really no liars or lies after all,
And that nothing fails its perfect return—And that what are called lies are perfect returns,
And that each thing exactly represents itself, and what has preceded it,
And that the truth includes all, and is compact, just as much as space is compact,
And that there is no flaw or vacuum in the amount of the truth—but that all is truth without exception;	15
And henceforth I will go celebrate anything I see or am,
And sing and laugh, and deny nothing.

Walt Whitman

In 1855 Whitman published at his own expense a volume of 12 poems, Leaves of Grass, which he had begun working on probably as early as 1847. It was criticized because of Whitman’s exaltation of the body and sexual love and also because of its innovation in verse form

After the First Group Work

Connectors: It depends on the idea, the connector that will be suitable. Here you can find the purpose of them and some examples. Always remember  the context.

Ordering 

first of all
firstly 
secondly
then
after that
before that
E.g.: First of all/Firstly Paul left home.Secondly he took a bus.Then he called his friend.After that he arrived to work.Before that he had read the news on his i-phone.

Adding 

and
also
as well
not only...but also
E.g.:He said hello to his partners and he went to his office. He checked his mails and he also organized his desk. He wrote some letters as well as invitations to his birthday party. Not only he called his daughter’s school but also his wife’s office.

Giving Examples

for instance .
for example
E.g.: Generally Paul prefers dark colors to wear for work, for instance/for example brown pans.

Making Contrast

whereas
although
even though
but
E.g.: Whereas he prefers light colors for weekends. Although / even though he doesn’t go out frequently. But, when he goes to concerts he wears casual clothes.

Generalizing

on the whole
in the main
mainly
generally
E.g.:On the whole/in the main/mainly/generally his wife loves his look.

Moving On To Another Point 

now
right
anyway
E.g.: Now/ right/anyway , when he went for lunch, he took his suitcase with him.

Showing Logical Consequences 

so
E.g.: So he could have a look at the files of his customers.

Clarifying Or Emphasizing

I mean
actually
really
in fact
of course
obviously
certainly
basically
E.g.: I mean/ actually/really/in fact/of course/obviously/certainly/basically, he didn’t have enough time for lunch but he had some meetings that afternoon.

Showing Your Attitude 

honestly:
to be honest
frankly
to be frank
without doubt
no doubt
E.g.: Honestly/to be honest/frankly/to be frank/without doubt/no doubt I think he has a very busy day.

Referring Back

as I say
as I said
E.g.:As I say/as I said he had appointed several meetings with his customers the week before.

Giving Options

I think 
I suppose
I believe
I guess
I would say
E.g.: I think/I suppose/I believe/I guess/I would say he works too long hours.

Softening Opinions/Statements

well
sort of
kind of
I mean
actually
E.g.: Well/sort of/kind of/I mean/actually, life is hard to work nowadays.

Giving Yourself Time

well
let me think
you know
I mean
I don't know
kind of sort of
I can't/don't remember
I'm not sure
I mean
actually
E.g.: Well/let me think/You know when I was young, I used to work long hours too. 

So the following would be the story written in a paragraph:

First of all Paul left home.Secondly he took a bus.Then he called his friend. After that he arrived to work. Before that he had read the news on his i-phone. He said hello to his partners and he went to his office. He checked his mails and he also organized his desk. He wrote some letters as well as invitations to his birthday party. Not only he called his daughter’s school but also his wife’s office. Generally Paul prefers dark colors to wear for work, for instance brown pans. Whereas he prefers light colors for weekends. Although he doesn’t go out frequently. But, when he goes to concerts he wears casual clothes.On the whole his wife loves his look. Now, when he went for lunch, he took his suitcase with him. So he could have a look at the files of his customers. In fact he didn’t have enough time for lunch but he had some meetings that afternoon. Honestly I think he has a very busy day.As I said he had appointed several meetings with his customers the week before.I  would say he works too long hours. Actually, life is hard to work nowadays.Well when I was young, I used to work long hours too.

_______________________________________________________________________

 Time expressions that lead you to tenses:

Simple Past:

Last week/weekend/month/year
Yesterday
In the morning/in the afternoon (if you are in the evening)
 E.g.: Last week Paul visited a small agency.

Past Perfect :

Before that (if you are in the simple past)
The day/week/month/year before (if you are in the simple past)
E.g.: Last week Paul visited a small agency. Before that, we had made an appointment with the manager.

Present Perfect:

So far
This week/month/year
Yet
Since
E.g.: So far, he's never been to a big company. 

Now, work out these expressions with Anna's story ._______________________________________________________________

Some tips to think about and work out :

verbs+infinitive:

refuse
expect
decide
hope
promise
want
offer
help
E.g.: He refused to wear white pans.

verbs+ing :

give up
avoid
imagine
finish
E.g.: He gave up smoking.

Now, work out these expressions with Anna's story .
_________________________________________________________________

  Every time you must express an action think when it actually happens:

E.g.:
Dear friend:
I'm writing to tell you...............
This is the moment you are doing it, so you must use Present Continuous. (The only REAL PRESENT)

E.g.: (the ending of an informal letter)
I'll write you soon.
Kiss
You will write a letter in the future, in spite you don't know when. So, you must use SIMPLE FUTURE

Now, work out these expressions in a letter that Anna writes to her family .

_____________________________________________________________________

Jazz History by Ken Burns

For music fans...............

La Vie En Rose (Louis Armstrong)

While you're working...........

What a wonderful World - Louis Armstrong

If you're fond of more music........

Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong - Summertime

If you're fond of music........

I Get Ideas (Louis Armstrong)

If you're fond of music........

Black and Blue - Louis Armstrong

Vocabulary for describing behaviour

DESCRIBING BEHAVIOUR

A

active = always doing something: "She's an active person and never wants to stay in."
aggressive = being angry or threatening: "He's aggressive and starts arguments."
ambitious = wanting to succeed: "He's ambitious and wants to lead the company."
argumentative = always arguing with people: "He won't accept what you say - he's argumentative and loves to disagree!"
arrogant = thinking you are better than anyone else: "He always behaves as if nobody else's opinion is important - "I find him very arrogant."
assertive = being confident, so people can't force you to do things you don't want to do: "It's important to be assertive at work."

B

bad-tempered = in a bad mood: "What's got into him lately? He's so bad-tempered."
big-headed = thinking you're very important or clever: "I've never met anyone so big-headed!"
bossy = telling people what to do all the time: "He's so bossy - he never lets me do things the way I want to do them."

C

careless = not taking care: "He's a careless driver - "I'm sure he'll have an accident."
caring = wanting to help people: "My boss is caring and often asks me how things are going."
catty = saying nasty or spiteful things about other people: "I know you don't like her, but calling her names is a bit catty."
cautious = being careful, so that you avoid mistakes: "He's cautious about investing money in the stock market."
charming = pleasant and likeable: "What a charming man!"
cheeky = being rude or disrespectful: "It was a bit cheeky of him to ask for more money."
clever = intelligent: "She's a clever student and picks things up quickly."
conceited = thinking you're very clever, or better than others: "He's so conceited - he thinks everyone should admire him."
conscientious = doing something carefully, because you want to do it well: "She's a conscientious student and always does her homework."
considerate = thinking and caring about others: "My neighbour brought me flowers when I was in hospital - he's very considerate." ("That was considerate of him.")
coy = pretending to be shy so that you don't have to give information: "He's very coy about his qualifications - maybe he doesn't have any."
creative = someone who can make or design things, or can think of solutions to a problem: "She's creative and artistic."
curious = wanting to know things: "I'm curious to find out what you think of the situation."

D

deceitful = trying to make people think something, so that you get what you want: "He lied to get this job - he's so deceitful."
docile = quiet and submissive: "She's a docile child and always does what she's told."
dogmatic = wanting others to accept your ideas without discussion: "He's a dogmatic politician and always thinks he's right."
domineering = trying to control other people: "He's loud and domineering in the office - it's difficult to get him to listen to us."

E

enthusiastic = having a lot of interest in something: "He's an enthusiastic supporter of equal rights."
excitable = someone who easily gets excited: "He gets very excitable about politics - it's one of his passions in life."
extroverted = outgoing and lively: "She's extroverted and loves going out with people."

F

faithful = being loyal to someone or something: "She's a faithful friend."
fickle = changing your mind and being unpredictable: "Politicians can be fickle when it suits them!"
flaky = slightly unstable and unreliable: "She's a little flaky at times, but otherwise she's a good worker."
full of himself = acting proud of yourself: "He was full of himself after he got the promotion - it got annoying after a while."
funny = making other people laugh: "He can be extremely funny when he's in the mood."
fussy = only liking certain things: "She's fussy about what she wears."

G

good-natured = kind and thoughtful: "She's good-natured and always tries to help."
grumpy = someone who tends to be in a bad mood: "He's always grumpy in the morning and never says 'hello'."

H

happy-go-lucky = not worrying about what might happen in the future: "He's a bit happy-go-lucky and doesn't think about the future."

I

impulsive = doing things without thinking first: "If he sees something he likes, he just buys it - he can be so impulsive at times!"
inconsiderate = not considering other people or their feelings: "It was a little inconsiderate of him not to give you a get-well card."
introverted = opposite of extroverted: "He was introverted as a teenager, but became more confident as he got older."
inventive = able to think up new ideas: "As head of Marketing, he can often think of inventive ways to keep his customers happy."
irritating = annoying others: "He can be very irritating to work with."

J

jokey = making jokes: "You're in a jokey mood today, but we've got work to do!"
jolly = happy and cheerful: "It was the weekend and everyone was in a jolly mood."

K

kind = thoughtful and caring: "My neighbour is kind - she looked after my cat when I was on holiday."

L

loud-mouthed = someone who talks a lot and often says offensive things: "Don't worry about what he said - he's loud-mouthed at times."
loyal = someone who is faithful and stands by you: "His colleagues were loyal to him when he was having problems with his boss."

M

manic = behaving in a slightly crazy way: "We're a bit manic at the moment - we're rushing to finish the work before our deadline."
manipulative = trying to get people to do what you want, by influencing or deceiving them: "She's very manipulative when she wants something."
moody = having unpredictable moods: "Some people think he's moody - you never know if he's happy or grumpy."

N

nervous = uncomfortable with a situation: "I'm always nervous before an exam."

O

old-fashioned = behaving or thinking in a way that isn't modern: "He's a bit old-fashioned and thinks women shouldn't work."
opinionated = having strong opinions: "He's opinionated and dogmatic - the last person you want to negotiate with."

P

passive = not assertive - doing what other people want you to do without arguing: "He's passive at work, but domineering at home."
perfectionnist = someone who wants perfection: "Her boss is a perfectionnist - no spelling mistakes are allowed."
persuasive = being able to persuade people to do things or to accept your ideas: "He's a persuasive talker."
picky = only liking certain things or people: "She's picky about her friends."
playful = someone who likes to play and have fun: "You're in a playful mood today!"
pleasant = nice and polite: "The bank manager was pleasant to me today."
polite = showing good manners: "She's polite and never forgets to say 'please' or 'thank you'."
pragmatic = being practical and aware of your limitations: "She's pragmatic at work and only does what she can."

Q

quick-tempered = getting angry quickly: "He was quick-tempered when he was young, but he's more relaxed now."

R

reserved = keeping your ideas and thoughts to yourself: "He's reserved, but polite."
rude = impolite: "He's very rude and never says 'please' or 'thank you'."

S

scatter-brained / scatty = someone who often forgets things: "Don't you remember where you put your wallet? You're so scatter-brained!"
serious = not light-hearted: "He's a serious student and always does his homework."
shy = quiet, because you are not very confident: "He's so shy and hates saying anything to people he doesn't know."
sincere = saying what you believe (opposite of insincere): "He's sincere in his beliefs."
slapdash = doing your work quickly and carelessly: "He's got a very slapdash attitude - I doubt he'll ever become a lawyer."
slimy = trying to get what you want by being over-friendly: "That man is so slimy - he makes me feel sick!"
sly = doing things in a secretive way: "You never know what he's up to - he's sly and manipulative."
spiteful = trying to hurt other people because you didn't get what you wanted: "If she doesn't get what she wants, she can be quite spiteful."

T

thoughtful = someone who thinks a lot: "He's a thoughtful person and won't do anything unless he has considered the consequences."
thoughtless = not thinking about people or the consequences of your actions: "I'm sure he didn't mean to be rude - he can be thoughtless at times."
trustworthy = someone you can trust: "My accountant is really trustworthy."

V

volatile quickly changing moods: "He's easily excitable and pretty volatile."

W

witty = being able to make other people laugh by what you say: "He's witty and charming - the perfect person to invite to a party."

"The man who would be king" by Rudyard Kipling

THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING

 Brother to a Prince and fellow to a beggar if he be found worthy

 BY RUDYARD KIPLING

 The Law, as quoted, lays down a fair conduct of life, and one not easy

to follow. I have been fellow to a beggar again and again under

circumstances which prevented either of us finding out whether the

other was worthy. I have still to be brother to a Prince, though I

once came near to kinship with what might have been a veritable King,

and was promised the reversion of a Kingdom--army, law-courts,

revenue, and policy all complete. But, to-day, I greatly fear that my

King is dead, and if I want a crown I must go hunt it for myself.

The beginning of everything was in a railway-train upon the road to

Mhow from Ajmir. There had been a Deficit in the Budget, which

necessitated travelling, not Second-class, which is only half as dear

as First-Class, but by Intermediate, which is very awful indeed. There

are no cushions in the Intermediate class, and the population are

either Intermediate, which is Eurasian, or native, which for a long

night journey is nasty, or Loafer, which is amusing though

intoxicated. Intermediates do not buy from refreshment-rooms. They

carry their food in bundles and pots, and buy sweets from the native

sweetmeat-sellers, and drink the roadside water. This is why in hot

weather Intermediates are taken out of the carriages dead, and in all

weathers are most properly looked down upon.

My particular Intermediate happened to be empty till I reached

Nasirabad, when the big black-browed gentleman in shirt-sleeves

entered, and, following the custom of Intermediates, passed the time

of day. He was a wanderer and a vagabond like myself, but with an

educated taste for whisky. He told tales of things he had seen and

done, of out-of-the-way corners of the Empire into which he had

penetrated, and of adventures in which he risked his life for a few

days' food.

"If India was filled with men like you and me, not knowing more than

the crows where they'd get their next day's rations, it isn't seventy

millions of revenue the land would be paying--it's seven hundred

millions," said he; and as I looked at his mouth and chin I was

disposed to agree with him.

We talked politics,--the politics of Loaferdom that sees things from

the under side where the lath and plaster is not smoothed off,--and we

talked postal arrangements because my friend wanted to send a telegram

back from the next station to Ajmir, the turning-off place from the

Bombay to the Mhow line as you travel westward. My friend had no money

beyond eight annas which he wanted for dinner, and I had no money at

all, owing to the hitch in the Budget before mentioned. Further, I was

going into a wilderness where, though I should resume touch with the

Treasury, there were no telegraph offices. I was, therefore, unable to

help him in any way.

"We might threaten a Station-master, and make him send a wire on

tick," said my friend, "but that'd mean inquiries for you and for me,

and /I/'ve got my hands full these days. Did you say you were

travelling back along this line within any days?"

"Within ten," I said.

"Can't you make it eight?" said he. "Mine is rather urgent business."

"I can send your telegrams within ten days if that will serve you," I

said.

"I couldn't trust the wire to fetch him, now I think of it. It's this

way. He leaves Delhi on the 23rd for Bombay. That means he'll be

running through Ajmir about the night of the 23rd."

"But I'm going into the Indian Desert," I explained.

"Well /and/ good," said he. "You'll be changing at Marwar Junction to

get into Jodhpore territory,--you must do that,--and he'll be coming

through Marwar Junction in the early morning of the 24th by the Bombay

Mail. Can you be at Marwar Junction on that time? 'T won't be

inconveniencing you, because I know that there's precious few pickings

to be got out of these Central India States--even though you pretend

to be correspondent of the 'Backwoodsman.' "

"Have you ever tried that trick?" I asked.

"Again and again, but the Residents find you out, and then you get

escorted to the Border before you've time to get your knife into them.

But about my friend here. I /must/ give him a word o' mouth to tell

him what's come to me, or else he won't know where to go. I would take

it more than kind of you if you was to come out of Central India in

time to catch him at Marwar Junction, and say to him, 'He has gone

South for the week.' He'll know what that means. He's a big man with a

red beard, and a great swell he is. You'll find him sleeping like a

gentleman with all his luggage round him in a Second-class apartment.

But don't you be afraid. Slip down the window and say, 'He has gone

South for the week,' and he'll tumble. It's only cutting your time of

stay in those parts by two days. I ask you as a stranger--going to the

West," he said, with emphasis.

"Where have /you/ come from?" said I.

"From the East," said he, "and I am hoping that you will give him the

message on the Square--for the sake of my Mother as well as your own."

Englishmen are not usually softened by appeals to the memory of their

mothers; but for certain reasons, which will be fully apparent, I saw

fit to agree.

"It's more than a little matter," said he, "and that's why I asked you

to do it--and now I know that I can depend on you doing it. A Second-

class carriage at Marwar Junction, and a red-haired man asleep in it.

You'll be sure to remember. I get out at the next station, and I must

hold on there till he comes or sends me what I want."

"I'll give the message if I catch him," I said, "and for the sake of

your Mother as well as mine I'll give you a word of advice. Don't try

to run the Central India States just now as the correspondent of the

'Backwoodsman.' There's a real one knocking about here, and it might

lead to trouble."

"Thank you," said he, simply; "and when will the swine be gone? I

can't starve because he's ruining my work. I wanted to get hold of the

Degumber Rajah down here about his father's widow, and give him a

jump."

"What did he do to his father's widow, then?"

"Filled her up with red pepper and slippered her to death as she hung

from a beam. I found that out myself, and I'm the only man that would

dare going into the State to get hush-money for it. They'll try to

poison me, same as they did in Chortumna when I went on the loot

there. But you'll give the man at Marwar Junction my message?"

He got out at a little roadside station, and I reflected. I had heard,

more than once, of men personating correspondents of newspapers and

bleeding small Native States with threats of exposure, but I had never

met any of the caste before. They lead a hard life, and generally die

with great suddenness. The Native States have a wholesome horror of

English newspapers, which may throw light on their peculiar methods of

government, and do their best to choke correspondents with champagne,

or drive them out of their mind with four-in-hand barouches. They do

not understand that nobody cares a straw for the internal

administration of Native States so long as oppression and crime are

kept within decent limits, and the ruler is not drugged, drunk, or

diseased from one end of the year to the other. They are the dark

places of the earth, full of unimaginable cruelty, touching the

Railway and the Telegraph on one side, and, on the other, the days of

Harun-al-Raschid. When I left the train I did business with divers

Kings, and in eight days passed through many changes of life.

Sometimes I wore dress-clothes and consorted with Princes and

Politicals, drinking from crystal and eating from silver. Sometimes I

lay out upon the ground and devoured what I could get, from a plate

made of leaves, and drank the running water, and slept under the same

rug as my servant. It was all in the day's work.

Then I headed for the Great Indian Desert upon the proper date, as I

had promised, and the night Mail set me down at Marwar Junction, where

a funny little, happy-go-lucky, native-managed railway runs to

Jodhpore. The Bombay Mail from Delhi makes a short halt at Marwar. She

arrived just as I got in, and I had just time to hurry to her platform

and go down the carriages. There was only one Second-class on the

train. I slipped the window and looked down upon a flaming-red beard,

half covered by a railway-rug. That was my man, fast asleep, and I dug

him gently in the ribs. He woke with a grunt, and I saw his face in

the light of the lamps. It was a great and shining face.

"Tickets again?" said he.

"No," said I. "I am to tell you that he is gone South for the week. He

has gone South for the week!"

The train had begun to move out. The red man rubbed his eyes. "He has

gone South for the week," he repeated. "Now that's just like his

impidence. Did he say that I was to give you anything? 'Cause I

won't."

"He didn't," I said, and dropped away, and watched the red lights die

out in the dark. It was horribly cold because the wind was blowing off

the sands. I climbed into my own train--not an Intermediate carriage

this time--and went to sleep.

If the man with the beard had given me a rupee I should have kept it

as a memento of a rather curious affair. But the consciousness of

having done my duty was my only reward.

Later on I reflected that two gentlemen like my friends could not do

any good if they foregathered and personated correspondents of

newspapers, and might, if they blackmailed one of the little rat-trap

States of Central India or Southern Rajputana, get themselves into

serious difficulties. I therefore took some trouble to describe them

as accurately as I could remember to people who would be interested in

deporting them; and succeeded, so I was later informed, in having them

headed back from the Degumber borders.

Then I became respectable, and returned to an office where there were

no Kings and no incidents outside the daily manufacture of a

newspaper. A newspaper office seems to attract every conceivable sort

of person, to the prejudice of discipline. Zenana-mission ladies

arrive, and beg that the Editor will instantly abandon all his duties

to describe a Christian prize-giving in a back slum of a perfectly

inaccessible village; Colonels who have been overpassed for command

sit down and sketch the outline of a series of ten, twelve, or twenty-

four leading articles on Seniority /versus/ Selection; missionaries

wish to know why they have not been permitted to escape from their

regular vehicles of abuse, and swear at a brother missionary under

special patronage of the editorial We; stranded theatrical companies

troop up to explain that they cannot pay for their advertisements, but

on their return from New Zealand or Tahiti will do so with interest;

inventors of patent punka-pulling machines, carriage couplings, and

unbreakable swords and axletrees call with specifications in their

pockets and hours at their disposal; tea companies enter and elaborate

their prospectuses with the office pens; secretaries of ball

committees clamour to have the glories of their last dance more fully

described; strange ladies rustle in and say, "I want a hundred lady's

cards printed /at once/, please," which is manifestly part of an

Editor's duty; and every dissolute ruffian that ever tramped the Grand

Trunk Road makes it his business to ask for employment as a proof-

reader. And, all the time, the telephone-bell is ringing madly, and

Kings are being killed on the Continent, and Empires are saying,

"You're another," and Mister Gladstone is calling down brimstone upon

the British Dominions, and the little black copyboys are whining,

"/kaa-pi chay-ha-yeh/" ("Copy wanted"), like tired bees, and most of

the paper is as blank as Modred's shield.

But that is the amusing part of the year. There are six other months

when none ever come to call, and the thermometer walks inch by inch up

to the top of the glass, and the office is darkened to just above

reading-light, and the press-machines are red-hot to touch, and nobody

writes anything but accounts of amusements in the Hill-stations or

obituary notices. Then the telephone becomes a tinkling terror,

because it tells you of the sudden deaths of men and women that you

knew intimately, and the prickly heat covers you with a garment, and

you sit down and write: "A slight increase of sickness is reported

from the Khuda Janta Khan District. The outbreak is purely sporadic in

its nature, and, thanks to the energetic efforts of the District

authorities, is now almost at an end. It is, however, with deep regret

we record the death," etc.

Then the sickness really breaks out, and the less recording and

reporting the better for the peace of the subscribers. But the Empires

and the Kings continue to divert themselves as selfishly as before,

and the Foreman thinks that a daily paper really ought to come out

once in twenty-four hours, and all the people at the Hill-stations in

the middle of their amusements say, "Good gracious! why can't the

paper be sparkling? I'm sure there's plenty going on up here."

That is the dark half of the moon, and, as the advertisements say,

"must be experienced to be appreciated."

It was in that season, and a remarkably evil season, that the paper

began running the last issue of the week on Saturday night, which is

to say Sunday morning, after the custom of a London paper. This was a

great convenience, for immediately after the paper was put to bed the

dawn would lower the thermometer from 96 degrees to almost 84 degrees

for half an hour, and in that chill--you have no idea how cold is 84

degrees on the grass until you begin to pray for it--a very tired man

could get off to sleep ere the heat roused him.

One Saturday night it was my pleasant duty to put the paper to bed

alone. A King or courtier or a courtesan or a Community was going to

die or get a new Constitution, or do something that was important on

the other side of the world, and the paper was to be held open till

the latest possible minute in order to catch the telegram.

It was a pitchy-black night, as stifling as a June night can be, and

the /loo/, the red-hot wind from the westward, was booming among the

tinder-dry trees and pretending that the rain was on its heels. Now

and again a spot of almost boiling water would fall on the dust with

the flop of a frog, but all our weary world knew that was only

pretence. It was a shade cooler in the press-room than the office, so

I sat there, while the type ticked and clicked, and the night-jars

hooted at the windows, and the all but naked compositors wiped the

sweat from their foreheads and called for water. The thing that was

keeping us back, whatever it was, would not come off, though the loo

dropped and the last type was set, and the whole round earth stood

still in the choking heat, with its finger on its lip, to wait the

event. I drowsed, and wondered whether the telegraph was a blessing,

and whether this dying man, or struggling people, might be aware of

the inconvenience the delay was causing. There was no special reason

beyond the heat and worry to make tension, but, as the clock-hands

crept up to three o-clock and the machines spun their fly-wheels two

and three times to see that all was in order, before I said the word

that would set them off, I could have shrieked aloud.

Then the roar and rattle of the wheels shivered the quiet into little

bits. I rose to go away, but two men in white clothes stood in front

of me. The first one said, "It's him!" The second said, "So it is!"

And they both laughed almost as loudly as the machinery roared, and

mopped their foreheads. "We seed there was a light burning across the

road, and we were sleeping in that ditch there for coolness, and I

said to my friend here, 'The office is open. Let's come along and

speak to him as turned us back from Degumber State,' " said the

smaller of the two. He was the man I had met in the Mhow train, and

his fellow was the red-bearded man of Marwar Junction. There was no

mistaking the eyebrows of the one or the beard of the other.

I was not pleased, because I wished to go to sleep, not to squabble

with loafers. "What do you want?" I asked.

"Half an hour's talk with you, cool and comfortable, in the office,"

said the red-bearded man. "We'd /like/ some drink,--the Contrack

doesn't begin yet, Peachey, so you needn't look,--but what we really

want is advice. We don't want money. We ask you as a favour, because

we found out you did us a bad turn about Degumber State."

I led from the press-room to the stifling office with the maps on the

walls, and the red-haired man rubbed his hands. "That's something

like," said he. "This was the proper shop to come to. Now, Sir, let me

introduce you to Brother Peachey Carnehan, that's him, and Brother

Daniel Dravot, that is /me/, and the less said about our professions

the better, for we have been most things in our time--soldier, sailor,

compositor, photographer, proof-reader, street-preacher, and

correspondents of the 'Backwoodsman' when we thought the paper wanted

one. Carnehan is sober, and so am I. Look at us first, and see that's

sure. It will save you cutting into my talk. We'll take one of your

cigars apiece, and you shall see us light up."

I watched the test. The men were absolutely sober, so I gave them each

a tepid whisky-and-soda.

"Well /and/ good," said Carnehan of the eyebrows, wiping the froth

from his moustache. "Let me talk now, Dan. We have been all over

India, mostly on foot. We have been boiler-fitters, engine-drivers,

petty contractors, and all that, and we have decided that India isn't

big enough for such as us."

They certainly were too big for the office. Dravot's beard seemed to

fill half the room and Carnehan's shoulders the other half, as they

sat on the big table. Carnehan continued: "The country isn't half

worked out because they that governs it won't let you touch it. They

spend all their blessed time in governing it, and you can't lift a

spade, nor chip a rock, nor look for oil, nor anything like that,

without all the Government saying, 'Leave it alone, and let us

govern.' Therefore, such /as/ it is, we will let it alone, and go away

to some other place where a man isn't crowded and can come to his own.

We are not little men, and there is nothing that we are afraid of

except Drink, and we have signed a Contrack on that. /Therefore/ we

are going away to be Kings."

"Kings in our own right," muttered Dravot.

"Yes, of course," I said. "You've been tramping in the sun, and it's a

very warm night, and hadn't you better sleep over the notion? Come

to-morrow."

"Neither drunk nor sunstruck," said Dravot. "We have slept over the

notion half a year, and require to see Books and Atlases, and we have

decided that there is only one place now in the world that two strong

men can Sar-a-/whack/. They call it Kafiristan. By my reckoning it's

the top right-hand corner of Afghanistan, not more than three hundred

miles from Peshawar. They have two and thirty heathen idols there, and

we'll be the thirty-third and fourth. It's a mountaineous country, the

women of those parts are very beautiful."

"But that is provided against in the Contrack," said Carnehan.

"Neither Women nor Liqu-or, Daniel."

"And that's all we know, except that no one has gone there, and they

fight, and in any place where they fight a man who knows how to drill

men can always be a King. We shall go to those parts and say to any

King we find, 'D' you want to vanquish your foes?' and we will show

him how to drill men; for that we know better than anything else. Then

we will subvert that King and seize his Throne and establish a

Dy-nasty."

"You'll be cut to pieces before you're fifty miles across the Border,"

I said. "You have to travel through Afghanistan to get to that

country. It's one mass of mountains and peaks and glaciers, and no

Englishman has been through it. The people are utter brutes, and even

if you reached them you couldn't do anything."

"That's more like," said Carnehan. "If you could think us a little

more mad we would be more pleased. We have come to you to know about

this country, to read a book about it, and to be shown maps. We want

you to tell us that we are fools and to show us your books." He turned

to the bookcases.

"Are you at all in earnest?" I said.

"A little," said Dravot, sweetly. "As big a map as you have got, even

if it's all blank where Kafiristan is, and any books you've got. We

can read, though we aren't very educated."

I uncased the big thirty-two-miles-to-the-inch map of India and two

smaller Frontier maps, hauled down volume INF-KAN of the

"Encyclopaedia Britannica," and the men consulted them.

"See here!" said Dravot, his thumb on the map. "Up to Jagdallak,

Peachey and me know the road. We was there with Robert's Army. We'll

have to turn off to the right at Jagdallak through Laghmann territory.

Then we get among the hills--fourteen thousand feet--fifteen thousand

--it will be cold work there, but it don't look very far on the map."

I handed him Wood on the "Sources of the Oxus." Carnehan was deep in

the "Encyclopaedia."

"They're a mixed lot," said Dravot, reflectively; "and it won't help

us to know the names of their tribes. The more tribes the more they'll

fight, and the better for us. From Jagdallak to Ashang. H'mm!"

"But all the information about the country is as sketchy and

inaccurate as can be," I protested. "No one knows anything about it

really. Here's the file of the 'United Services' Institute.' Read what

Bellew says."

"Blow Bellew!" said Carnehan. "Dan, they're a stinkin' lot of

heathens, but this book here says they think they're related to us

English."

I smoked while the men poured over Raverty, Wood, the maps, and the

"Encyclopaedia."

"There is no use your waiting," said Dravot, politely. "It's about

four o'clock now. We'll go before six o'clock if you want to sleep,

and we won't steal any of the papers. Don't you sit up. We're two

harmless lunatics, and if you come to-morrow evening down to the Serai

we'll say good-bye to you."

"You /are/ two fools," I answered. "You'll be turned back at the

Frontier or cut up the minute you set foot in Afghanistan. Do you want

any money or a recommendation down-country? I can help you to the

chance of work next week."

"Next week we shall be hard at work ourselves, thank you," said

Dravot. "It isn't so easy being a King as it looks. When we've got our

Kingdom in going order we'll let you know, and you can come up and

help us govern it."

"Would two lunatics make a Contract like that?" said Carnehan, with

subdued pride, showing me a greasy half-sheet of notepaper on which

was written the following. I copied it, then and there, as a

curiosity.

  This Contract between me and you pursuing witnesseth in

  the name of God--Amen and so forth.

    (One)     That me and you will settle this matter

              together; i.e., to be Kings of Kafiristan.

    (Two)     That you and me will not, while this

              matter is being settled, look at any

              Liquor, nor any Woman, black, white,

              or brown, so as to get mixed up with

              one or the other harmful.

    (Three)   That we conduct ourselves with Dignity

              and Discretion, and if one of us gets

              into trouble the other will stay by him.

       Signed by you and me this day.

              Peachey Taliaferro Carnehan.

              Daniel Dravot.

              Both Gentlemen at Large.

"There was no need for the last article," said Carnehan, blushing

modestly; "but it looks regular. Now you know the sort of men that

loafers are,--we /are/ loafers, Dan, until we get out of India,--and

/do/ you think that we would sign a Contrack like that unless we was

in earnest? We have kept away from the two things that make life worth

having."

"You won't enjoy your lives much longer if you are going to try this

idiotic adventure. Don't set the office on fire," I said, "and go away

before nine o'clock."

I left them still poring over the maps and making notes on the back of

the "Contract." "Be sure to come down to the Serai to-morrow," were

their parting words.

The Kumharsen Serai is the great foursquare sink of humanity where the

strings of camels and horses from the North load and unload. All the

nationalities of Central Asia may be found there, and most of the folk

of India proper. Balkh and Bokhara there meet Bengal and Bombay, and

try to draw eye-teeth. You can buy ponies, turquoises, Persian pussy-

cats, saddle-bags, fat-tailed sheep, and musk in the Kumharsen Serai,

and get many strange things for nothing. In the afternoon I went down

to see whether my friends intended to keep their word or were lying

there drunk.

A priest attired in fragments of ribbons and rags stalked up to me,

gravely twisting a child's paper whirligig. Behind him was his servant

bending under the load of a crate of mud toys. The two were loading up

two camels, and the inhabitants of the Serai watched them with shrieks

of laughter.

"The priest is mad," said a horse-dealer to me. "He is going up to

Kabul to sell toys to the Amir. He will either be raised to honour or

have his head cut off. He came in here this morning and has been

behaving madly ever since."

"The witless are under the protection of God," stammered a flat-

cheeked Usbeg in broken Hindi. "They foretell future events."

"Would they could have foretold that my caravan would have been cut up

by the Shinwaris almost within shadow of the Pass!" grunted the

Eusufzai agent of a Rajputana trading-house whose goods had been

diverted into the hands of other robbers just across the Border, and

whose misfortunes were the laughing-stock of the bazaar. "Ohe, priest,

whence come you and whither do you go?"

"From Roum have I come," shouted the priest, waving his whirligig;

"from Roum, blown by the breath of a hundred devils across the sea! O

thieves, robbers, liars, the blessing of Pir Khan on pigs, dogs, and

perjurers! Who will take the Protected of God to the North to sell

charms that are never still to the Amir? The camels shall not gall,

the sons shall not fall sick, and the wives shall remain faithful

while they are away, of the men who give me place in their caravan.

Who will assist me to slipper the King of the Roos with a golden

slipper with a silver heel? The protection of Pir Khan be upon his

labours!" He spread out the skirts of his gabardine and pirouetted

between the lines of tethered horses.

"There starts a caravan from Peshawar to Kabul in twenty days,

/Huzrut/," said the Eusufzai trader. "My camels go therewith. Do thou

also go and bring us good luck."

"I will go even now!" shouted the priest. "I will depart upon my

winged camels, and be at Peshawar in a day! Ho! Hazar Mir Khan," he

yelled to his servant, "drive out the camels, but let me first mount

my own."

He leaped on the back of his beast as it knelt, and, turning round to

me, cried, "Come thou also, Sahib, a little along the road, and I will

sell thee a charm--an amulet that shall make thee King of Kafiristan."

Then the light broke upon me, and I followed the two camels out of the

Serai till we reached open road and the priest halted.

"What d' you think o' that?" said he in English. "Carnehan can't talk

their patter, so I've made him my servant. He makes a handsome

servant. 'T isn't for nothing that I've been knocking about the

country for fourteen years. Didn't I do that talk neat? We'll hitch on

to a caravan at Peshawar till we get to Jagdallak, and then we'll see

if we can get donkeys for our camels, and strike into Kafiristan.

Whirligigs for the Amir, O Lor'! Put your hand under the camelbags and

tell me what you feel."

I felt the butt of a Martini, and another and another.

"Twenty of 'em," said Dravot, placidly. "Twenty of 'em and ammunition

to correspond, under the whirligigs and the mud dolls."

"Heaven help you if you are caught with those things!" I said. "A

Martini is worth her weight in silver among the Pathans."

"Fifteen hundred rupees of capital--every rupee we could beg, borrow,

or steal--are invested on these two camels," said Dravot. "We won't

get caught. We're going through the Khaiber with a regular caravan.

Who'd touch a poor mad priest?"

"Have you got everything you want?" I asked, overcome with

astonishment.

"Not yet, but we shall soon. Give us a momento of your kindness,

/Brother/. You did me a service yesterday, and that time in Marwar.

Half my Kingdom shall you have, as the saying is." I slipped a small

charm compass from my watch-chain and handed it up to the priest.

"Good-bye," said Dravot, giving me hand cautiously. "It's the last

time we'll shake hands with an Englishman these many days. Shake hands

with him, Carnehan," he cried, as the second camel passed me.

Carnehan leaned down and shook hands. Then the camels passed away

along the dusty road, and I was left alone to wonder. My eye could

detect no failure in the disguises. The scene in the Serai proved that

they were complete to the native mind. There was just the chance,

therefore, that Carnehan and Dravot would be able to wander through

Afghanistan without detection. But, beyond, they would find death--

certain and awful death.

Ten days later a native correspondent, giving me the news of the day

from Peshawar, wound up his letter with: "There has been much laughter

here on account of a certain mad priest who is going in his estimation

to sell petty gauds and insignificant trinkets which he ascribes as

great charms to H. H. the Amir of Bokhara. He passed through Peshawar

and associated himself to the Second Summer caravan that goes to

Kabul. The merchants are pleased because through superstition they

imagine that such mad fellows bring good fortune."

The two, then, were beyond the Border. I would have prayed for them,

but that night a real King died in Europe, and demanded an obituary

notice.

The wheel of the world swings through the same phases again and again.

Summer passed and winter thereafter, and came and passed again. The

daily paper continued and I with it, and upon the third summer there

fell a hot night, a night issue, and a strained waiting for something

to be telegraphed from the other side of the world, exactly as had

happened before. A few great men had died in the past two years, the

machines worked with more clatter, and some of the trees in the office

garden were a few feet taller. But that was all the difference.

I passed over to the press-room, and went through just such a scene as

I have already described. The nervous tension was stronger than it had

been two years before, and I felt the heat more acutely. At three

o'clock I cried, "Print off," and turned to go, when there crept to my

chair what was left of a man. He was bent into a circle, his head was

sunk between his shoulders, and he moved his feet one over the other

like a bear. I could hardly see whether he walked or crawled--this

rag-wrapped, whining cripple who addressed me by name, crying that he

was come back. "Can you give me a drink?" he whimpered. "For the

Lord's sake, give me a drink!"

I went back to the office, the man following with groans of pain, and

I turned up the lamp.

"Don't you know me?" he gasped, dropping into a chair, and he turned

his drawn face, surmounted by a shock of gray hair, to the light.

I looked at him intently. Once before had I seen eyebrows that met

over the nose in an inch-broad black band, but for the life of me I

could not tell where.

"I don't know you," I said, handing him the whisky. "What can I do for

you?"

He took a gulp of the spirit raw, and shivered in spite of the

suffocating heat.

"I've come back," he repeated; "and I was the King of Kafiristan--me

and Dravot--crowned Kings we was! In this office we settled it--you

setting there and giving us the books. I am Peachey,--Peachey

Taliaferro Carnehan,--and you've been setting here ever since--O

Lord!"

I was more than a little astonished, and expressed my feelings

accordingly.

"It's true," said Carnehan, with a dry cackle, nursing his feet, which

were wrapped in rags--"true as gospel. Kings we were, with crowns upon

our heads--me and Dravot--poor Dan--oh, poor, poor Dan, that would

never take advice, not though I begged of him!"

"Take the whisky," I said, "and take your own time. Tell me all you

can recollect of everything from beginning to end. You got across the

Border on your camels, Dravot dressed as a mad priest and you his

servant. Do you remember that?"

"I ain't mad--yet, but I shall be that way soon. Of course I remember.

Keep looking at me, or maybe my words will go all to pieces. Keep

looking at me in my eyes and don't say anything."

I leaned forward and looked into his face as steadily as I could. He

dropped one hand upon the table and I grasped it by the wrist. It was

twisted like a bird's claw, and upon the back was a ragged, red,

diamond-shaped scar.

"No, don't look there. Look at /me/," said Carnehan. "That comes

afterward, but for the Lord's sake don't distrack me. We left with

that caravan, me and Dravot playing all sorts of antics to amuse the

people we were with. Dravot used to make us laugh in the evenings when

all the people was cooking their dinners--cooking their dinners, and

. . . what did they do then? They lit little fires with sparks that

went into Dravot's beard, and we all laughed--fit to die. Little red

fires they was, going into Dravot's big red beard--so funny." His eyes

left mine and he smiled foolishly.

"You went as far as Jagdallak with that caravan," I said, at a

venture, "after you had lit those fires. To Jagdallak, where you

turned off to try to get into Kafiristan."

"No, we didn't, neither. What are you talking about? We turned off

before Jagdallak, because we heard the roads was good. But they wasn't

good enough for our two camels--mine and Dravot's. When we left the

caravan, Dravot took off all his clothes and mine too, and said we

would be heathen, because the Kafirs didn't allow Mohammedans to talk

to them. So we dressed betwixt and between, and such a sight as Daniel

Dravot I never saw yet nor expect to see again. He burned half his

beard, and slung a sheepskin over his shoulder, and shaved his head

into patterns. He shaved mine too, and made me wear outrageous things

to look like a heathen. That was in a most mountaineous country, and

our camels couldn't go along any more because of the mountains. They

were tall and black, and coming home I saw them fight like wild goats

--there are lots of goats in Kafiristan. And these mountains, they

never keep still, no more than the goats. Always fighting they are,

and don't let you sleep at night."

"Take some more whisky," I said, very slowly. "What did you and Daniel

Dravot do when the camels could go no farther because of the rough

roads that led into Kafiristan?"

"What did which do? There was a party called Peachey Taliaferro

Carnehan that was with Dravot. Shall I tell you about him? He died out

there in the cold. Slap from the bridge fell old Peachey, turning and

twisting in the air like a penny whirligig that you can sell to the

Amir. No; they was two for three ha'pence, those whirligigs, or I am

much mistaken and woful sore. . . . And then these camels were no use,

and Peachey said to Dravot, 'For the Lord's sake let's get out of this

before our heads are chopped off,' and with that they killed the

camels all among the mountains, not having anything in particular to

eat, but first they took off the boxes with the guns and the

ammunition, till two men came along driving four mules. Dravot up and

dances in front of them, singing, 'Sell me four mules.' Says the first

man, 'If you are rich enough to buy, you are rich enough to rob;' but

before ever he could put his hand to his knife, Dravot breaks his neck

over his knee, and the other party runs away. So Carnehan loaded the

mules with the rifles that was taken off the camels, and together we

starts forward into those bitter-cold mountaineous parts, and never a

road broader than the back of your hand."

He paused for a moment, while I asked him if he could remember the

nature of the country through which he had journeyed.

"I am telling you as straight as I can, but my head isn't as good as

it might be. They drove nails through it to make me hear better how

Dravot died. The country was mountaineous and the mules were most

contrary, and the inhabitants was dispersed and solitary. They went up

and up, and down and down, and that other party, Carnehan, was

imploring of Dravot not to sing and whistle so loud, for fear of

bringing down the tremenjus avalanches. But Dravot says that if a King

couldn't sing it wasn't worth being King, and whacked the mules over

the rump, and never took no heed for ten cold days. We came to a big

level valley all among the mountains, and the mules were near dead, so

we killed them, not having anything in special for them or us to eat.

We sat upon the boxes, and played odd and even with the cartridges

that was jolted out.

"Then ten men with bows and arrows ran down that valley, chasing

twenty men with bows and arrows, and the row was tremenjus. They was

fair men--fairer than you or me--with yellow hair and remarkable well

built. Says Dravot, unpacking the guns, 'This is the beginning of the

business. We'll fight for the ten men,' and with that he fires two

rifles at the twenty men, and drops one of them at two hundred yards

from the rock where he was sitting. The other men began to run, but

Carnehan and Dravot sits on the boxes picking them off at all ranges,

up and down the valley. Then we goes up to the ten men that had run

across the snow too, and they fires a footy little arrow at us. Dravot

he shoots above their heads, and they all falls down flat. Then he

walks over them and kicks them, and then he lifts them up and shakes

hands all round to make them friendly like. He calls them and gives

them the boxes to carry, and waves his hand for all the world as

though he was King already. They takes the boxes and him across the

valley and up the hill into a pine wood on the top, where there was

half a dozen big stone idols. Dravot he goes to the biggest--a fellow

they call Imbra--and lays a rifle and a cartridge at his feet, rubbing

his nose respectfuly with his own nose, patting him on the head, and

nods his head, and says, 'That's all right. I'm in the know too, and

these old jimjams are my friends.' Then he opens his mouth and points

down it, and when the first man brings him food, he says, 'No;' and

when the second man brings him food, he says 'no;' but when one of the

old priests and the boss of the village brings him food, he says,

'Yes;' very haughty, and eats it slow. That was how he came to our

first village without any trouble, just as though we had tumbled from

the skies. But we tumbled from one of those damned rope-bridges, you

see, and--you couldn't expect a man to laugh much after that?"

"Take some more whisky and go on," I said. "That was the first village

you came into. How did you get to be King?"

"I wasn't King," said Carnehan. "Dravot he was the King, and a

handsome man he looked with the gold crown on his head and all. Him

and the other party stayed in that village, and every morning Dravot

sat by the side of old Imbra, and the people came and worshipped. That

was Dravot's order. Then a lot of men came into the valley, and

Carnehan Dravot picks them off with the rifles before they knew where

they was, and runs down into the valley and up again the other side,

and finds another village, same as the first one, and the people all

falls down flat on their faces, and Dravot says, 'Now what is the

trouble between you two villages?' and the people points to a woman,

as fair as you or me, that was carried off, and Dravot takes her back

to the first village and counts up the dead--eight there was. For each

dead man Dravot pours a little milk on the ground and waves his arms

like a whirligig, and 'That's all right,' says he. Then he and

Carnehan takes the big boss of each village by the arm, and walks them

down the valley, and shows them how to scratch a line with a spear

right down the valley, and gives each a sod of turf from both sides of

the line. Then all the people comes down and shouts like the devil and

all, and Dravot says, 'Go and dig the land, and be fruitful and

multiply,' which they did, though they didn't understand. Then we asks

the names of things in their lingo--bread and water and fire and idols

and such; and Dravot leads the priest of each village up to the idol,

and says he must sit there and judge the people, and if anything goes

wrong he is to be shot.

"Next week they was all turning up the land in the valley as quiet as

bees and much prettier, and the priests heard all the complaints and

told Dravot in dumb-show what it was about. 'That's just the

beginning,' says Dravot. 'They think we're Gods.' He and Carnehan

picks out twenty good men and shows them how to click off a rifle and

form fours and advance in line; and they was very pleased to do so,

and clever to see the hang of it. Then he takes out his pipe and his

baccy-pouch, and leaves one at one village and one at the other, and

off we two goes to see what was to be done in the next valley. That

was all rock, and there was a little village there, and Carnehan says,

'Send 'em to the old valley to plant,' and takes 'em there and gives

'em some land that wasn't took before. They were a poor lot, and we

blooded 'em with a kid before letting 'em into the new Kingdom. That

was to impress the people, and then they settled down quiet, and

Carnehan went back to Dravot, who had got into another valley, all

snow and ice and most mountaineous. There was no people there, and the

Army got afraid; so Dravot shoots one of them, and goes on till he

finds some people in a village, and the Army explains that unless the

people wants to be killed they had better not shoot their little

matchlocks, for they had matchlocks. We makes friends with the priest,

and I stays there alone with two of the Army, teaching the men how to

drill; and a thundering big Chief comes across the snow with

kettledrums and horns twanging, because he heard there was a new God

kicking about. Carnehan sights for the brown of the men half a mile

across the snow and wings one of them. Then he sends a message to the

Chief that, unless he wished to be killed, he must come and shake

hands with me and leave his arms behind. The Chief comes alone first,

and Carnehan shakes hands with him and whirls his arms about, same as

Dravot used, and very much surprised that Chief was, and strokes my

eyebrows. Then Carnehan goes alone to the Chief, and asks him in dumb-

show if he had an enemy he hated. 'I have,' says the chief. So

Carnehan weeds out the pick of his men, and sets the two of the Army

to show them drill, and at the end of two weeks the men can manoeuvre

about as well as Volunteers. So he marches with the Chief to a great

big plain on the top of a mountain, and the Chief's men rushes into a

village and takes it; we three Martinis firing into the brown of the

enemy. So we took that village too, and I gives the Chief a rag from

my coat, and says, 'Occupy till I come;' which was scriptural. By way

of a reminder, when me and the Army was eighteen hundred yards away, I

drops a bullet near him standing on the snow, and all the people falls

flat on their faces. Then I sends a letter to Dravot wherever he be by

land or by sea."

At the risk of throwing the creature out of train I interrupted: "How

could you write a letter up yonder?"

"The letter?--oh!--the letter! Keep looking at me between the eyes,

please. It was a string-talk letter, that we'd learned the way of it

from a blind beggar in the Punjab."

I remember that there had once come to the office a blind man with a

knotted twig, and a piece of string which he wound round the twig

according to some cipher of his own. He could, after the lapse of days

or hours, repeat the sentence which he had reeled up. He had reduced

the alphabet to eleven primitive sounds, and tried to teach me his

method, but I could not understand.

"I sent that letter to Dravot," said Carnehan, "and told him to come

back because this Kingdom was growing too big for me to handle; and

then I struck for the first valley, to see how the priests were

working. They called the village we took along with the Chief,

Bashkai, and the first village we took, Er-Heb. The priests at Er-Heb

was doing all right, but they had a lot of pending cases about land to

show me, and some men from another village had been firing arrows at

night. I went out and looked for that village, and fired four rounds

at it from a thousand yards. That used all the cartridges I cared to

spend, and I waited for Dravot, who had been away two or three months,

and I kept my people quiet.

"One morning I heard the devil's own noise of drums and horns, and Dan

Dravot marches down the hill with his Army and a tail of hundreds of

men, and, which was the most amazing, a great gold crown on his head.

'My Gord, Carnehan,' says Daniel, 'this is a tremenjus business, and

we've got the whole country as far as it's worth having. I am the son

of Alexander by Queen Semiramis, and you're my younger brother and a

God too! It's the biggest thing we've ever seen. I've been marching

and fighting for six weeks with the Army, and every footy little

village for fifty miles has come in rejoiceful; and more than that,

I've got the key of the whole show, as you'll see, and I've got a

crown for you! I told 'em to make two of 'em at a place called Shu,

where the gold lies in the rock like suet in mutton. Gold I've seen,

and turquoise I've kicked out of the cliffs, and there's garnets in

the sands of the river, and here's a chunk of amber that a man brought

me. Call up all the priests and, here, take your crown.'

"One of the men opens a black hair bag, and I slips the crown on. It

was too small and too heavy, but I wore it for the glory. Hammered

gold it was--five pounds weight, like a hoop of a barrel.

" 'Peachey,' says Dravot, 'we don't want to fight no more. The Craft's

the trick, so help me!' and he brings forward that same Chief that I

left at Bashkai--Billy Fish we called him afterward, because he was so

like Billy Fish that drove the big tank-engine at Mach on the Bolan in

the old days. 'Shake hands with him,' says Dravot; and I shook hands

and nearly dropped, for Billy Fish gave me the Grip. I said nothing,

but tried him with the Fellow-craft Grip. He answers all right, and I

tried the Master's Grip, but that was a slip. 'A Fellow-craft he is!'

I says to Dan. 'Does he know the word?' 'He does,' says Dan, 'and all

the priests know. It's a miracle! The Chiefs and the priests can work

a Fellow-craft Lodge in a way that's very like ours, and they've cut

the marks on the rocks, but they don't know the Third Degree, and

they've come to find out. It's Gord's Truth. I've known these long

years that the Afghans knew up to the Fellow-craft Degree, but this is

a miracle. A God and a Grand Master of the Craft am I, and a Lodge in

the Third Degree I will open, and we'll raise the head priests and the

Chiefs of the villages.'

" 'It's against all the law,' I says, 'holding a Lodge without warrant

from any one; and you know we never held office in any Lodge.'

" 'It's a master stroke o' policy,' says Dravot. 'It means running the

country as easy as a four-wheeled bogie on a down grade. We can't stop

to inquire now, or they'll turn against us. I've forty Chiefs at my

heel, and passed and raised according to their merit they shall be.

Billet these men on the villages, and see that we run up a Lodge of

some kind. The temple of Imbra will do for a Lodge-room. The women

must make aprons as you show them. I'll hold a levee of Chiefs

to-night and Lodge to-morrow.'

"I was fair run off my legs, but I wasn't such a fool as not to see

what a pull this Craft business gave us. I showed the priests'

families how to make aprons of the degrees, but for Dravot's apron the

blue border and marks was made of turquoise lumps on white hide, not

cloth. We took a great square stone in the temple for the Master's

chair, and little stones for the officer's chairs, and painted the

black pavement with white squares, and did what we could to make

things regular.

"At the levee which was held that night on the hillside with big

bonfires, Dravot gives out that him and me were Gods and sons of

Alexander, and Passed Grand Masters in the Craft, and was come to make

Kafiristan a country where every man should eat in peace and drink in

quiet, and specially obey us. Then the Chiefs come round to shake

hands, and they were so hairy and white and fair it was just shaking

hands with old friends. We gave them names according as they was like

men we had known in India--Billy Fish, Holly Dilworth, Pikky Kergan,

that was Bazaar-master when I was at Mhow, and so on, and so on.

"/The/ most amazing miracles was at Lodge next night. One of the old

priests was watching us continuous, and I felt uneasy, for I knew we'd

have to fudge the Ritual, and I didn't know what the men knew. The old

priest was a stranger come in from beyond the village of Bashkai. The

minute Dravot puts on the Master's apron that the girls had made for

him, the priest fetches a whoop and a howl, and tries to overturn the

stone that Dravot was sitting on. 'It's all up now,' I says. 'That

comes of meddling with the Craft without warrant!' Dravot never winked

an eye, not when ten priests took and tilted over the Grand Master's

chair--which was to say, the stone of Imbra. The priest begins rubbing

the bottom end of it to clear away the black dirt, and presently he

shows all the other priests the Master's Mark, same as was on Dravot's

apron, cut into the stone. Not even the priests of the temple of Imbra

knew it was there. The old chap falls flat on his face at Dravot's

feet and kisses 'em. 'Luck again,' says Dravot, across the Lodge, to

me; 'they say it's the missing Mark that no one could understand the

why of. We're more than safe now.' Then he bangs the butt of his gun

for a gavel and says, 'By virtue of the authority vested in me by my

own right hand and the help of Peachey, I declare myself Grand Master

of all Freemasonry in Kafiristan in this the Mother Lodge o' the

country, and King of Kafiristan equally with Peachey!' At that he puts

on his crown and I puts on mine,--I was doing Senior Warden,--and we

opens the Lodge in most ample form. It was an amazing miracle! The

priests moved in Lodge through the first two degrees almost without

telling, as if the memory was coming back to them. After that Peachey

and Dravot raised such as was worthy--high priests and Chiefs of far-

off villages. Billy Fish was the first, and I can tell you we scared

the soul out of him. It was not in any way according to Ritual, but it

served our turn. We didn't raise more than ten of the biggest men,

because we didn't want to make the Degree common. And they was

clamouring to be raised.

" 'In another six months,' says Dravot, 'we'll hold another

Communication and see how you are working.' Then he asks them about

their villages, and learns that they was fighting one against the

other, and were sick and tired of it. And when they wasn't doing that

they was fighting with the Mohammedans. 'You can fight those when they

come into our country,' says Dravot. 'Tell off every tenth man of your

tribes for a Frontier guard, and send two hundred at a time to this

valley to be drilled. Nobody is going to be shot or speared any more

so long as he does well, and I know that you won't cheat me, because

you're white people--sons of Alexander--and not like common black

Mohammedans. You are /my/ people, and, by God,' says he, running off

into English at the end, 'I'll make a damned fine Nation of you, or

I'll die in the making!'

"I can't tell all we did for the next six months, because Dravot did a

lot I couldn't see the hang of, and he learned their lingo in a way I

never could. My work was to help the people plough, and now and again

go out with some of the Army and see what the other villages were

doing, and make 'em throw rope bridges across the ravines which cut up

the country horrid. Dravot was very kind to me, but when he walked up

and down in the pine wood pulling that bloody red beard of his with

both fists I knew he was thinking plans I could not advise about, and

I just waited for orders.

"But Dravot never showed me disrespect before the people. They were

afraid of me and the Army, but they loved Dan. He was the best of

friends with the priests and the Chiefs; but any one could come across

the hills with a complaint, and Dravot would hear him out fair, and

call four priests together and say what was to be done. He used to

call in Billy Fish from Bashkai, and Pikky Kergan from Shu, and an old

Chief we called Kafuzelum,--it was like enough to his real name,--and

hold councils with 'em when there was any fighting to be done in small

villages. That was his Council of War, and the four priests of

Bashkai, Shu, Khawak, and Madora was his Privy Council. Between the

lot of 'em they sent me, with forty men and twenty rifles, and sixty

men carrying turquoises, into the Ghorband country to buy those hand-

made Martini rifles, that come out of the Amir's workshops at Kabul,

from one of the Amir's Herati regiments that would have sold the very

teeth out of their mouths for turquoises.

"I stayed in Ghorband a month, and gave the Governor there the pick of

my baskets for hush-money, and bribed the Colonel of the regiment some

more, and, between the two and the tribes-people, we got more than a

hundred hand-made Martinis, a hundred good Kohat Jezails that'll throw

to six hundred yards, and forty man-loads of very bad ammunition for

the rifles. I came back with what I had, and distributed 'em among the

men that the Chiefs sent in to me to drill. Dravot was too busy to

attend to those things, but the old Army that we first made helped me,

and we turned out five hundred men that could drill, and two hundred

that knew how to hold arms pretty straight. Even those cork-screwed,

hand-made guns was a miracle to them. Dravot talked big about powder-

shops and factories, walking up and down in the pine wood when the

winter was coming on.

" 'I won't make a Nation,' says he. 'I'll make an Empire! These men

aren't niggers; they're English! Look at their eyes--look at their

mouths. Look at the way they stand up. They sit on chairs in their own

houses. They're the Lost Tribes, or something like it, and they've

grown to be English. I'll take a census in the spring if the priests

don't get frightened. There must be a fair two million of 'em in these

hills. The villages are full o' little children. Two million people--

two hundred and fifty thousand fighting men--and all English! They

only want the rifles and a little drilling. Two hundred and fifty

thousand men, ready to cut in on Russia's right flank when she tries

for India! Peachey, man,' he says, chewing his beard in great hunks,

'we shall be Emperors--Emperors of the Earth! Rajah Brooke will be a

suckling to us. I'll treat with the Viceroy on equal terms. I'll ask

him to send me twelve picked English--twelve that I know of--to help

us govern a bit. There's Mackray, Serjeant Pensioner at Segowli--

many's the good dinner he's given me, and his wife a pair of trousers.

There's Donkin, the Warder of Tounghoo Jail; there's hundreds that I

could lay my hand on if I was in India. The Viceroy shall do it for

me; I'll send a man through in the spring for those men, and I'll

write for a dispensation from the Grand Lodge for what I've done as

Grand Master. That--and all the Sniders that'll be thrown out when the

native troops in India take up the Martini. They'll be worn smooth,

but they'll do for fighting in these hills. Twelve English, a hundred

thousand Sniders run through the Amir's country in driblets,--I'd be

content with twenty thousand in one year,--and we'd be an Empire. When

everything was shipshape I'd hand over the crown--this crown I'm

wearing now--to Queen Victoria on my knees, and she'd say, "Rise up,

Sir Daniel Dravot." Oh, it's big! It's big, I tell you! But there's so

much to be done in every place--Bashkai, Khawak, Shu, and everywhere

else.'

" 'What is it?' I says. 'There are no more men coming in to be drilled

this autumn. Look at those fat black clouds. They're bringing the

snow.'

" 'It isn't that,' says Daniel, putting his hand very hard on my

shoulder; 'and I don't wish to say anything that's against you, for no

other living man would have followed me and made me what I am as you

have done. You're a first-class Commander-in-Chief, and the people

know you; but--it's a big country, and somehow you can't help me,

Peachey, in the way I want to be helped.'

" 'Go to your blasted priests, then!' I said, and I was sorry when I

made that remark, but it did hurt me sore to find Daniel talking so

superior, when I'd drilled all the men and done all he told me.

" 'Don't let's quarrel, Peachey,' says Daniel, without cursing.

'You're a King too, and the half of this Kingdom is yours; but can't

you see, Peachey, we want cleverer men than us now--three or four of

'em, that we can scatter about for our Deputies. It's a hugeous great

State, and I can't always tell the right thing to do, and I haven't

time for all I want to do, and here's the winter coming on and all.'

He put half his beard into his mouth, all red like the gold of his

crown.

" 'I'm sorry, Daniel,' says I. 'I've done all I could. I've drilled

the men and shown the people how to stack their oats better; and I've

brought in those tinware rifles from Ghorband--but I know what you're

driving at. I take it Kings always feel oppressed that way.'

" 'There's another thing too,' says Dravot, walking up and down. 'The

winter's coming, and these people won't be giving much trouble, and if

they do we can't move about. I want a wife.'

" 'For Gord's sake leave the women alone!' I says. 'We've both got all

the work we can, though I /am/ a fool. Remember the Contract, and keep

clear o' women.'

" 'The Contract only lasted till such time as we was Kings; and Kings

we have been these months past,' says Dravot, weighing his crown in

his hand. 'You go get a wife too, Peachey--a nice, strappin', plump

girl that'll keep you warm in the winter. They're prettier than

English girls, and we can take the pick of 'em. Boil 'em once or twice

in hot water, and they'll come out like chicken and ham.'

" 'Don't tempt me!' I says. 'I will not have any dealings with a

woman, not till we are a dam' side more settled than we are now. I've

been doing the work o' two men, and you've been doing the work of

three. Let's lie off a bit, and see if we can get some better tobacco

from Afghan country and run in some good liquor; and no women.'

" 'Who's talking o' /women/?' says Dravot. 'I said /wife/--a Queen to

breed a King's son for the King. A Queen out of the strongest tribe,

that'll make them your blood-brothers, and that'll lie by your side

and tell you all the people thinks about you and their own affairs.

That's what I want.'

" 'Do you remember that Bengali woman I kept at Mogul Serai when I was

a plate-layer?' says I. 'A fat lot o' good she was to me. She taught

me the lingo and one or two other things; but what happened? She ran

away with the Station-master's servant and half my month's pay. Then

she turned up at Dadur Junction in tow of a half-caste, and had the

impidence to say I was her husband--all among the drivers in the

running-shed too!'

" 'We've done with that,' says Dravot; 'these women are whiter than

you or me, and a Queen I will have for the winter months.'

" 'For the last time o' asking, Dan, do /not/,' I says. 'It'll only

bring us harm. The Bible says that Kings ain't to waste their strength

on women, 'specially when they've got a new raw Kingdom to work over.'

" 'For the last time of answering, I will,' said Dravot, and he went

away through the pine-trees looking like a big red devil, the sun

being on his crown and beard and all.

"But getting a wife was not as easy as Dan thought. He put it before

the Council, and there was no answer till Billy Fish said that he'd

better ask the girls. Dravot damned them all round. 'What's wrong with

me?' he shouts, standing by the idol Imbra. 'Am I a dog, or am I not

enough of a man for your wenches? Haven't I put the shadow of my hand

over this country? Who stopped the last Afghan raid?' It was me

really, but Dravot was too angry to remember. 'Who bought your guns?

Who repaired the bridges? Who's the Grand Master of the sign cut in

the stone?' says he, and he thumped his hand on the block that he used

to sit on in Lodge, and at Council, which opened like Lodge always.

Billy Fish said nothing, and no more did the others. 'Keep your hair

on, Dan,' said I, 'and ask the girls. That's how it's done at Home,

and these people are quite English.'

" 'The marriage of the King is a matter of State,' says Dan, in a

white-hot rage, for he could feel, I hope, that he was going against

his better mind. He walked out of the Council-room, and the others sat

still, looking at the ground.

" 'Billy Fish,' says I to the Chief of Bashkai, 'what's the difficulty

here? A straight answer to a true friend.'

" 'You know,' says Billy Fish. 'How should a man tell you who knows

everything? How can daughters of men marry Gods or Devils? It's not

proper.'

"I remembered something like that in the Bible; but, if after seeing

us as long as they had, they still believed we were Gods, it wasn't

for me to undeceive them.

" 'A God can do anything,' says I. 'If the King is fond of a girl

he'll not let her die.' 'She'll have to,' said Billy Fish. 'There are

all sorts of Gods and Devils in these mountains, and now and again a

girl marries one of them and isn't seen any more. Besides, you two

know the Mark cut in the stone. Only the Gods know that. We thought

you were men till you showed the sign of the Master.'

"I wished then that we had explained about the loss of the genuine

secrets of a Master Mason at the first go-off; but I said nothing. All

that night there was a blowing of horns in a little dark temple half-

way down the hill, and I heard the girl crying fit to die. One of the

priests told us that she was being prepared to marry the King.

" 'I'll have no nonsense of that kind,' says Dan. 'I don't want to

interfere with your customs, but I'll take my own wife.' 'The girl's a

little bit afraid,' says the priest. 'She thinks she's going to die,

and they are a-heartening of her up down in the temple.'

" 'Hearten her very tender, then,' says Dravot, 'or I'll hearten you

with the butt of a gun so you'll never want to be heartened again.' He

licked his lips, did Dan, and stayed up walking about more than half

the night, thinking of the wife that he was going to get in the

morning. I wasn't any means comfortable, for I knew that dealings with

a woman in foreign parts, though you was a crowned King twenty times

over, could not but be risky. I got up very early in the morning while

Dravot was asleep, and I saw the priests talking together in whispers,

and the Chiefs talking together too, and they looked at me out of the

corners of their eyes.

" 'What is up, Fish?' I say to the Bashkai man, who was wrapped up in

his furs and looking splendid to behold.

" 'I can't rightly say,' says he; 'but if you can make the King drop

all this nonsense about marriage, you'll be doing him and me and

yourself a great service.'

" 'That I do believe,' says I. 'But sure, you know, Billy, as well as

me, having fought against and for us, that the King and me are nothing

more than two of the finest men that God Almighty ever made. Nothing

more, I do assure you.'

" 'That may be,' says Billy Fish, 'and yet I should be sorry if it

was.' He sinks his head upon his great fur cloak for a minute and

thinks. 'King,' says he, 'be you man or God or Devil, I'll stick by

you to-day. I have twenty of my men with me, and they will follow me.

We'll go to Bashkai until the storm blows over.'

" A little snow had fallen in the night, and everything was white

except the greasy fat clouds that blew down and down from the north.

Dravot came out with his crown on his head, swinging his arms and

stamping his feet, and looking more pleased than Punch.

" 'For the last time, drop it, Dan,' says I, in a whisper; 'Billy Fish

here says that there will be a row.'

" 'A row among my people!' says Dravot. 'Not much. Peachey, you're a

fool not to get a wife too. Where's the girl?' says he, with a voice

as loud as the braying of a jackass. 'Call up all the Chiefs and

priests, and let the Emperor see if his wife suits him.'

"There was no need to call any one. They were all there leaning on

their guns and spears round the clearing in the centre of the pine

wood. A lot of priests went down to the little temple to bring up the

girl, and the horns blew fit to wake the dead. Billy Fish saunters

round and gets as close to Daniel as he could, and behind him stood

his twenty men with matchlocks--not a man of them under six feet. I

was next to Dravot, and behind me was twenty men of the regular Army.

Up comes the girl, and a strapping wench she was, covered with silver

and turquoises, but white as death, and looking back every minute at

the priests.

" 'She'll do,' said Dan, looking her over. 'What's to be afraid of,

lass? Come and kiss me.' He puts his arm round her. She shuts her

eyes, gives a bit of a squeak, and down goes her face in the side of

Dan's flaming-red beard.

" 'The slut's bitten me!' says he, clapping his hand to his neck, and,

sure enough, his hand was red with blood. Billy Fish and two of his

matchlock men catches hold of Dan by the shoulders and drags him into

the Bashkai lot, while the priests howls in their lingo, 'Neither God

nor Devil, but a man!' I was all taken aback, for a priest cut at me

in front, and the Army behind began firing into the Bashkai men.

" 'God A'mighty!' says Dan, 'what is the meaning o' this?'

" 'Come back! Come away!' says Billy Fish. 'Ruin and Mutiny is the

matter. We'll break for Bashkai if we can.'

"I tried to give some sort of orders to my men,--the men o' the

regular Army,--but it was no use, so I fired into the brown of 'em

with an English Martini and drilled three beggars in a line. The

valley was full of shouting, howling creatures, and every soul was

shrieking, 'Not a God nor a Devil, but only a man!' The Bashkai troops

stuck to Billy Fish all they were worth, but their matchlocks wasn't

half as good as the Kabul breech-loaders, and four of them dropped.

Dan was bellowing like a bull, for he was very wrathy; and Billy Fish

had a hard job to prevent him running out at the crowd.

" 'We can't stand,' says Billy Fish. 'Make a run for it down the

valley! The whole place is against us.' The matchlock-men ran, and we

went down the valley in spite of Dravot. He was swearing horrible and

crying out that he was a King. The priests rolled great stones on us,

and the regular Army fired hard, and there wasn't more than six men,

not counting Dan, Billy Fish, and Me, that came down to the bottom of

the valley alive.

"Then they stopped firing, and the horns in the temple blew again.

'Come away--for Gord's sake come away!' says Billy Fish. 'They'll send

runners out to all the villages before ever we get to Bashkai. I can

protect you there, but I can't do anything now."

"My own notion is that Dan began to go mad in his head from that hour.

He stared up and down like a stuck pig. Then he was all for walking

back alone and killing the priests with his bare hands; which he could

have done. 'An Emperor am I,' says Daniel, 'and next year I shall be a

Knight of the Queen.'

" 'All right, Dan,' says I; 'but come along now while there's time.'

" 'It's your fault,' says he, 'for not looking after your Army better.

There was mutiny in the midst, and you didn't know--you damned engine-

driving, plate-laying, missionary's-pass-hunting hound!' He sat upon a

rock and called me every foul name he could lay tongue to. I was too

heart-sick to care, though it was all his foolishness that brought the

smash.

" 'I'm sorry, Dan,' says I, 'but there's no accounting for natives.

This business is our Fifty-seven. Maybe we'll make something out of it

yet, when we've got to Bashkai.'

" 'Let's get to Bashkai, then,' says Dan, 'and, by God, when I come

back here again I'll sweep the valley so there isn't a bug in a

blanket left!'

"We walked all that day, and all that night Dan was stumping up and

down on the snow, chewing his beard and muttering to himself.

" 'There's no hope o' getting clear,' said Billy Fish. 'The priests

have sent runners to the villages to say that you are only men. Why

didn't you stick on as Gods till things was more settled? I'm a dead

man,' says Billy Fish, and he throws himself down on the snow and

begins to pray to his Gods.

"Next morning we was in a cruel bad country--all up and down, no level

ground at all, and no food, either. The six Bashkai men looked at

Billy Fish hungry-way as if they wanted to ask something, but they

never said a word. At noon we came to the top of a flat mountain all

covered with snow, and when we climbed up into it, behold, there was

an Army in position waiting in the middle!

" 'The runners have been very quick,' says Billy Fish, with a little

bit of a laugh. 'They are waiting for us.'

"Three or four men began to fire from the enemy's side, and a chance

shot took Daniel in the calf of the leg. That brought him to his

senses. He looks across the snow at the Army, and sees the rifles that

we had brought into the country.

" 'We're done for,' says he. 'They are Englishmen, these people,--and

it's my blasted nonsense that has brought you to this. Get back, Billy

Fish, and take your men away; you've done what you could, and now cut

for it. Carnehan,' says he, 'shake hands with me and go along with

Billy, Maybe they won't kill you. I'll go and meet 'em alone. It's me

that did it! Me, the King!'

" 'Go!' says I. 'Go to Hell, Dan! I'm with you here. Billy Fish, you

clear out, and we two will meet those folk.'

" 'I'm a Chief,' says Billy Fish, quite quiet. 'I stay with you. My

men can go.'

"The Bashkai fellows didn't wait for a second word, but ran off, and

Dan and Me and Billy Fish walked across to where the drums were

drumming and the horns were horning. It was cold--awful cold. I've got

that cold in the back of my head now. There's a lump of it there."

The punka-coolies had gone to sleep. Two kerosene lamps were blazing

in the office, and the perspiration poured down my face and splashed

on the blotter as I leaned forward. Carnehan was shivering, and I

feared that his mind might go. I wiped my face, took a fresh grip of

the piteously mangled hands, and said, "What happened after that?"

The momentary shift of my eyes had broken the clear current.

"What was you pleased to say?" whined Carnehan. "They took them

without any sound. Not a little whisper all along the snow, not though

the King knocked down the first man that set hand on him--not though

old Peachey fired his last cartridge into the brown of 'em. Not a

single solitary sound did those swines make. They just closed up

tight, and I tell you their furs stunk. There was a man called Billy

Fish, a good friend of us all, and they cut his throat, Sir, then and

there, like a pig; and the King kicks up the bloody snow and says,

'We've had a dashed fine run for our money. What's coming next?' But

Peachey, Peachey Taliaferro, I tell you, Sir, in confidence as betwixt

two friends, he lost his head, Sir. No, he didn't, neither. The King

lost his head, so he did, all along o' one of those cunning rope

bridges. Kindly let me have the paper-cutter, Sir. It tilted this way.

They marched him a mile across that snow to a rope bridge over a

ravine with a river at the bottom. You may have seen such. They

prodded him behind like an ox. 'Damn your eyes!' says the King. 'D'

you suppose I can't die like a gentleman?' He turns to Peachey--

Peachey that was crying like a child. 'I've brought you to this,

Peachey,' says he. 'Brought you out of your happy life to be killed in

Kafiristan, where you was late Commander-in-Chief of the Emperor's

forces. Say you forgive me, Peachey.' 'I do,' says Peachey. 'Fully and

freely do I forgive you, Dan.' 'Shake hands, Peachey,' says he. 'I'm

going now.' Out he goes, looking neither right nor left, and when he

was plumb in the middle of those dizzy dancing ropes, 'Cut you

beggars,' he shouts; and they cut, and old Dan fell, turning round and

round and round, twenty thousand miles, for he took half an hour to

fall till he struck the water, and I could see his body caught on a

rock with the gold crown close beside.

"But do you know what they did to Peachey between two pine-trees? They

crucified him, Sir, as Peachey's hand will show. They used wooden pegs

for his hands and feet; but he didn't die. He hung there and screamed,

and they took him down next day, and said it was a miracle that he

wasn't dead. They took him down--poor old Peachey that hadn't done

them any harm--that hadn't done them any--"

He rocked to and fro and wept bitterly, wiping his eyes with the back

of his scarred hands and moaning like a child for some ten minutes.

"They was cruel enough to feed him up in the temple, because they said

he was more of a God than old Daniel that was a man. Then they turned

him out on the snow, and told him to go home, and Peachey came home in

about a year, begging along the roads quite safe; for Daniel Dravot he

walked before and said, 'Come along, Peachey. It's a big thing we're

doing.' The mountains they danced at night, and the mountains they

tried to fall on Peachey's head, but Dan he held up his hand, and

Peachey came along bent double. He never let go of Dan's hand, and he

never let go of Dan's head. They gave it to him as a present in the

temple, to remind him not to come again; and though the crown was pure

gold and Peachey was starving, never would Peachey sell the same. You

know Dravot, Sir! You knew Right Worshipful Brother Dravot! Look at

him now!"

He fumbled in the mass of rags round his bent waist; brought out a

black horsehair bag embroidered with silver thread; and shook

therefrom on to my table--the dried, withered head of Daniel Dravot!

The morning sun, that had long been paling the lamps, struck the red

beard and blind sunken eyes; struck, too, a heavy circlet of gold

studded with raw turquoises, that Carnehan placed tenderly on the

battered temples.

"You be'old now," said Carnehan, "the Emperor in his 'abit as he lived

--the King of Kafiristan with his crown upon his head. Poor old Daniel

that was a monarch once!"

I shuddered, for, in spite of defacements manifold, I recognised the

head of the man of Marwar Junction. Carnehan rose to go. I attempted

to stop him. He was not fit to walk abroad. "Let me take away the

whisky, and give me a little money," he gasped. "I was a King once.

I'll go to the Deputy Commissioner and ask to set in the Poorhouse

till I get my health. No, thank you, I can't wait till you get a

carriage for me. I've urgent private affairs--in the south--at

Marwar."

He shambled out of the office and departed in the direction of the

Deputy Commissioner's house. That day at noon I had occasion to go

down the blinding-hot Mall, and I saw a crooked man crawling along the

white dust of the roadside, his hat in his hand, quavering dolorously

after the fashion of street-singers at Home. There was not a soul in

sight, and he was out of all possible earshot of the houses. And he

sang through his nose, turning his head from right to left:

      "The Son of Man goes forth to war,

            A golden crown to gain;

       His blood-red banner streams afar--

            Who follows in His train?"

I waited to hear no more, but put the poor wretch into my carriage and

drove him off to the nearest missionary for eventual transfer to the

Asylum. He repeated the hymn twice while he was with me, whom he did

not in the least recognise, and I left him singing it to the

missionary.

Two days later I inquired after his welfare of the Superintendent of

the Asylum.

"He was admitted suffering from sunstroke. He died early yesterday

morning," said the Superintendent. "Is it true that he was half an

hour bareheaded in the sun at midday?"

"Yes," said I; "but do you happen to know if he had anything upon him

by any chance when he died?"

"Not to my knowledge," said the Superintendent.

And there the matter rests.