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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/8147-0.txt b/8147-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dcdc33f --- /dev/null +++ b/8147-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1851 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Man Who Would Be King, by Rudyard Kipling + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + +Title: The Man Who Would Be King + +Author: Rudyard Kipling + +Posting Date: September 8, 2014 [EBook #8147] +Release Date: May, 2005 +First Posted: June 20, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING *** + + + + +Produced by Jeffrey Kraus-yao + + + + + + + + + +The Man Who Would be King + + By + + Rudyard Kipling + + + + +Published by Brentano’s at 31 Union Square New York + + THE MAN WHO WOULD + BE KING + +“Brother to a Prince and fellow to a beggar if he be found worthy.” + +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 and 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 patronize refreshment-rooms. They carry their food +in bundles and pots, and buy sweets from the native sweetmeat-sellers, +and drink the roadside water. That is why in the 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 a huge 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 +whiskey. 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 +million,” 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 underside 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, which is 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 are +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 telegram 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 23d for Bombay. That means he’ll be +running through Ajmir about the night of the 23d.” + +“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? +’Twon’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 compartment. 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 +ask 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. Native States were +created by Providence in order to supply picturesque scenery, tigers +and tall-writing. 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 a flapjack, and drank the running +water, and slept under the same rug as my servant. It was all in a +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 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 is 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 +impudence. 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 “stuck up” 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 except 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 commands 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 +punkah-pulling machines, carriage couplings and unbreakable swords and +axle-trees 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 clamor to have the glories +of their last dance more fully expounded; 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 copy-boys are whining, “kaa-pi chayha-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 other six months +wherein 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 of 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 as 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° to almost 84° for almost +half an hour, and in that chill—you have no idea how cold is 84° on +the grass until you begin to pray for it—a very tired man could set +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, was 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 see 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 the 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 favor, +because you did us a bad turn about Degumber.” + +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 to you 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.” I watched the test. The +men were absolutely sober, so I gave them each a tepid peg. + +“Well and good,” said Carnehan of the eyebrows, wiping the froth +from his mustache. “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 +its 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. It’s a mountainous country, +and the women of those parts are very beautiful.” + +“But that is provided against in the Contrack,” said Carnehan. +“Neither Women nor Liquor, 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 book-cases. + +“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 Encyclopædia +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 Roberts’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 +Encyclopædia. + +“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 an all-fired lot of +heathens, but this book here says they think they’re related to us +English.” + +I smoked while the men pored over Raverty, Wood, the maps and the +Encyclopædia. + +“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-by 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 to govern it.” + +“Would two lunatics make a Contrack like that!” said Carnehan, with +subdued pride, showing me a greasy half-sheet of note-paper on which +was written the following. I copied it, then and there, as a +curiosity:— + +This Contract between me and you persuing 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 could 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 “Contrack.” “Be sure to come down to the Serai to-morrow,” +were their parting words. + +The Kumharsen Serai is the great four-square 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 there to see whether my friends intended to keep their word or +were lying about 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 honor 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 +feloniously diverted into the hands of other robbers just across the +Border, and whose misfortunes were the laughing-stock of the bazar. +“Ohé, 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 Kahn be upon his labors!” He +spread out the skirts of his gaberdine 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. ’Tisn’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 +camel-bags 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-by,” said Dravot, giving me his 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 attested 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 friend of mine, 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 whiskey. “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 whiskey,” 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 will 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 afterwards, 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 sheep-skin 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 whiskey,” I said, very slowly. “What did you and +Daniel Dravot do when the camels could go no further 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 +mountainous 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 mountainous 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 we 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 around 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 +respectful with his own nose, patting him on the head, and saluting in +front of it. He turns round to the men and nods his head, and +says,—‘That’s all right. I’m in the know too, and these old +jim-jams 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 we 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 whiskey 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 +and 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 into +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 o’ 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 mountainous. 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 manœuvre about +as well as Volunteers. So he marches with the Chief to a great big +plain on the top of a mountain, and the Chiefs 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 cypher 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 failed. + +“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 priest 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 pound 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 afterwards, +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 priest 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 we never held office in any Lodge.’ + +“‘It’s a master-stroke of policy,’ says Dravot. ‘It means +running the country as easy as a four-wheeled bogy 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 the Lodge-room. The +women must make aprons as you show them. I’ll hold a levee of Chiefs +tonight and Lodge to-morrow.’ + +“I was fair rim 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 officers’ 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 Past 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 was 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 Bazar-master when I was at Mhow, and so on, and so on. + +“The most amazing miracle 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 a 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 clamoring 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 fair 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 +to 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 him 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 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 manloads 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, Sergeant-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 ship-shape, 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, +its 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, and it was +as red as 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 +Contrack, and keep clear o’ women.’ + +“‘The Contrack 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 as +fair as 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 o’ 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; but 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 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 of the +running-shed!’ + +“‘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 low +sun hit his crown and beard on one side, and the two blazed like hot +coals. + +“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?’ 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 a 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 know 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 a 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 that 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 says 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 induce the +King to 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. Peachy, +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 deputation of priests went down to the little temple to bring +up the girl, and the horns blew up 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’s protestations. He +was swearing horribly 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 will 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-wise as if they wanted to ask something, but they +said never 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 punkah-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 hands will show. They used +wooden pegs for his hands and his feet; and 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 knew 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 behold now,” said Carnehan, “the Emperor in his habit 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 recognized 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 +whiskey, 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 +Poor-house 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 recognize, and I left him singing to the missionary. + +Two days later I inquired after his welfare of the Superintendent of +the Asylum. + +“He was admitted suffering from sun-stroke. 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. + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Man Who Would Be King, by Rudyard Kipling + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING *** + +***** This file should be named 8147-0.txt or 8147-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/1/4/8147/ + +Produced by Jeffrey Kraus-yao +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search +facility: www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/8147-0.zip b/8147-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ed989bd --- /dev/null +++ b/8147-0.zip diff --git a/8147-8.txt b/8147-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..67c1181 --- /dev/null +++ b/8147-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1813 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Man Who Would Be King, by Rudyard Kipling + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + +Title: The Man Who Would Be King + +Author: Rudyard Kipling + +Posting Date: September 8, 2014 [EBook #8147] +Release Date: May, 2005 +First Posted: June 20, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING *** + + + + +Produced by Jeffrey Kraus-yao + + + + + + + + + +The Man Who Would be King + + By + + Rudyard Kipling + + + + +Published by Brentano's at 31 Union Square New York + + THE MAN WHO WOULD + BE KING + +"Brother to a Prince and fellow to a beggar if he be found worthy." + +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 and 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 patronize refreshment-rooms. They carry their food +in bundles and pots, and buy sweets from the native sweetmeat-sellers, +and drink the roadside water. That is why in the 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 a huge 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 +whiskey. 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 +million," 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 underside 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, which is +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 are 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 telegram 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 23d for Bombay. That means he'll be running +through Ajmir about the night of the 23d." + +"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? 'Twon'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 compartment. +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 ask 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. Native States were +created by Providence in order to supply picturesque scenery, tigers +and tall-writing. 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 a flapjack, and drank the running +water, and slept under the same rug as my servant. It was all in a +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 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 +is 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 +impudence. 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 "stuck up" 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 except 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 commands 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 +punkah-pulling machines, carriage couplings and unbreakable swords and +axle-trees 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 clamor to have the glories +of their last dance more fully expounded; 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 copy-boys +are whining, "kaa-pi chayha-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 other six months +wherein 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 of 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 as 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 to almost 84 for almost half +an hour, and in that chill--you have no idea how cold is 84 on the +grass until you begin to pray for it--a very tired man could set 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, was 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 see 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 the 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 favor, because you did us +a bad turn about Degumber." + +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 to you 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." I watched the test. The men +were absolutely sober, so I gave them each a tepid peg. + +"Well and good," said Carnehan of the eyebrows, wiping the froth from +his mustache. "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 its 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. It's a mountainous country, and the women of those +parts are very beautiful." + +"But that is provided against in the Contrack," said Carnehan. "Neither +Women nor Liquor, 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 +book-cases. + +"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 Encyclopdia +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 Roberts'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 +Encyclopdia. + +"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 an all-fired lot of +heathens, but this book here says they think they're related to us +English." + +I smoked while the men pored over Raverty, Wood, the maps and the +Encyclopdia. + +"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-by 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 to +govern it." + +"Would two lunatics make a Contrack like that!" said Carnehan, with +subdued pride, showing me a greasy half-sheet of note-paper on which +was written the following. I copied it, then and there, as a +curiosity:-- + +This Contract between me and you persuing 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 could 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 "Contrack." "Be sure to come down to the Serai to-morrow," were +their parting words. + +The Kumharsen Serai is the great four-square 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 there to see whether my friends intended to keep their word or +were lying about 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 honor 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 +feloniously diverted into the hands of other robbers just across the +Border, and whose misfortunes were the laughing-stock of the bazar. +"Oh, 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 Kahn be upon his labors!" He spread +out the skirts of his gaberdine 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. +'Tisn'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 camel-bags 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-by," said Dravot, giving me his 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 attested 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 friend of mine, 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 whiskey. "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 whiskey," 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 will 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 afterwards, 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 sheep-skin 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 whiskey," I said, very slowly. "What did you and Daniel +Dravot do when the camels could go no further 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 mountainous 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 mountainous 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 we 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 around 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 +respectful with his own nose, patting him on the head, and saluting in +front of it. He turns round to the men and nods his head, and +says,--'That's all right. I'm in the know too, and these old jim-jams +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 we 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 whiskey 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 +and 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 into 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 o' 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 mountainous. 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 Chiefs 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 cypher 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 failed. + +"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 priest 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 pound 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 afterwards, 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 priest 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 we never held office in any Lodge.' + +"'It's a master-stroke of policy,' says Dravot. 'It means running the +country as easy as a four-wheeled bogy 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 the Lodge-room. The women must +make aprons as you show them. I'll hold a levee of Chiefs tonight and +Lodge to-morrow.' + +"I was fair rim 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 officers' 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 Past 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 was 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 Bazar-master when I was at Mhow, and so on, and so on. + +"The most amazing miracle 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 a 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 clamoring 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 fair 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 +to 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 him 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 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 manloads 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, Sergeant-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 +ship-shape, 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, its 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, and it was as red as 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 Contrack, and keep +clear o' women.' + +"'The Contrack 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 as fair as 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 o' 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; but 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 +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 of the +running-shed!' + +"'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 low sun +hit his crown and beard on one side, and the two blazed like hot coals. + +"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?' 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 a 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 know 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 a 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 that 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 says 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 induce the King to +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. Peachy, 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 deputation of priests went down to the little temple to bring +up the girl, and the horns blew up 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's protestations. He was swearing horribly +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 will +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-wise as if they wanted to ask something, but they said +never 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 punkah-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 hands will show. They used wooden pegs +for his hands and his feet; and 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 +knew 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 behold now," said Carnehan, "the Emperor in his habit 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 recognized 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 whiskey, +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 Poor-house 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 recognize, and I left him singing to the missionary. + +Two days later I inquired after his welfare of the Superintendent of +the Asylum. + +"He was admitted suffering from sun-stroke. 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. + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Man Who Would Be King, by Rudyard Kipling + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING *** + +***** This file should be named 8147-8.txt or 8147-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/1/4/8147/ + +Produced by Jeffrey Kraus-yao +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + +Title: The Man Who Would Be King + +Author: Rudyard Kipling + +Posting Date: September 8, 2014 [EBook #8147] +Release Date: May, 2005 +First Posted: June 20, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING *** + + + + +Produced by Jeffrey Kraus-yao + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="title"> +<h1>The Man Who Would be King</h1> + +<p>By</p> + +<p>Rudyard Kipling</p> + +<p class="publisher">Published by Brentano’s at 31 Union Square New York</p> + +</div> + +<div class="content"> + +<h1>THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING</h1> + +<p class="quote">“Brother to a Prince and fellow to a beggar if he be found +worthy.”</p> + +<p>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 and hunt it for myself.</p> + +<p>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 patronize +refreshment-rooms. They carry their food in bundles and pots, and +buy sweets from the native sweetmeat-sellers, and drink the +roadside water. That is why in the hot weather Intermediates are +taken out of the carriages dead, and in all weathers are most +properly looked down upon.</p> + +<p>My particular Intermediate happened to be empty till I reached +Nasirabad, when a huge 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 whiskey. 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 million,” +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 underside 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, which is 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.</p> + +<p>“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 are travelling back along this line +within any days?”</p> + +<p>“Within ten,” I said.</p> + +<p>“Can’t you make it eight?” said he. +“Mine is rather urgent business.”</p> + +<p>“I can send your telegram within ten days if that will +serve you,” I said.</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t trust the wire to fetch him now I think +of it. It’s this way. He leaves Delhi on the 23d for Bombay. +That means he’ll be running through Ajmir about the night of +the 23d.”</p> + +<p>“But I’m going into the Indian Desert,” I +explained.</p> + +<p>“Well <i>and</i> 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? +’Twon’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 <i>Backwoodsman</i>.”</p> + +<p>“Have you ever tried that trick?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“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 <i>must</i> 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 compartment. 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.</p> + +<p>“Where have <i>you</i> come from?” said I.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“It’s more than a little matter,” said he, +“and that’s why I ask 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.”</p> + +<p>“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 +<i>Backwoodsman</i>. There’s a real one knocking about here, and it +might lead to trouble.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“What did he do to his father’s widow, +then?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>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. Native States were created by +Providence in order to supply picturesque scenery, tigers and +tall-writing. 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 a flapjack, and +drank the running water, and slept under the same rug as my +servant. It was all in a day’s work.</p> + +<p>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 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.</p> + +<p>“Tickets again?” said he.</p> + +<p>“No,” said I. “I am to tell you that he is +gone South for the week. He is gone South for the week!”</p> + +<p>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 impudence. Did he say that I +was to give you anything? — ’Cause I +won’t.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 “stuck up” 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.</p> + +<p>Then I became respectable, and returned to an Office where there +were no Kings and no incidents except 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 commands sit down and sketch the outline of a series of ten, +twelve, or twenty-four leading articles on Seniority <i>versus</i> +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 +punkah-pulling machines, carriage couplings and unbreakable swords +and axle-trees 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 +clamor to have the glories of their last dance more fully +expounded; strange ladies rustle in and say:— “I want a +hundred lady’s cards printed <i>at once</i>, 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 +copy-boys are whining, “<i>kaa-pi chayha-yeh</i>” (copy +wanted) like tired bees, and most of the paper is as blank as +Modred’s shield.</p> + +<p>But that is the amusing part of the year. There are other six +months wherein 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 of +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 +as 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.”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>That is the dark half of the moon, and, as the advertisements +say, “must be experienced to be appreciated.”</p> + +<p>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° to almost +84° for almost half an hour, and in that chill — you have no +idea how cold is 84° on the grass until you begin to pray for +it — a very tired man could set off to sleep ere the heat +roused him.</p> + +<p>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 <i>loo</i>, 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 <i>loo</i> 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, was 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.</p> + +<p>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 see 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 the 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.</p> + +<p>I was not pleased, because I wished to go to sleep, not to +squabble with loafers. “What do you want?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“Half an hour’s talk with you cool and comfortable, +in the office,” said the red-bearded man. “We’d +<i>like</i> 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 favor, because +you did us a bad turn about Degumber.”</p> + +<p>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 to you +Brother Peachey Carnehan, that’s him, and Brother Daniel +Dravot, that is <i>me</i>, 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 <i>Backwoodsman</i> 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.” I watched the test. The men were absolutely sober, so +I gave them each a tepid peg.</p> + +<p>“Well <i>and</i> good,” said Carnehan of the eyebrows, +wiping the froth from his mustache. “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.”</p> + +<p>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. <i>Therefore</i>, we are going away to be Kings.”</p> + +<p>“Kings in our own right,” muttered Dravot.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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-<i>whack</i>. They +call it Kafiristan. By my reckoning its 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. It’s a mountainous country, and the women +of those parts are very beautiful.”</p> + +<p>“But that is provided against in the Contrack,” said +Carnehan. “Neither Women nor Liquor, Daniel.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 book-cases.</p> + +<p>“Are you at all in earnest?” I said.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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 +<i>Encyclopædia Britannica</i>, and the men consulted them.</p> + +<p>“See here!” said Dravot, his thumb on the map. +“Up to Jagdallak, Peachey and me know the road. We was there +with Roberts’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.”</p> + +<p>I handed him Wood on the <i>Sources of the Oxus</i>. Carnehan was deep +in the <i>Encyclopædia</i>.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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 <i>United +Services’ Institute</i>. Read what Bellew says.”</p> + +<p>“Blow Bellew!” said Carnehan. “Dan, +they’re an all-fired lot of heathens, but this book here says +they think they’re related to us English.”</p> + +<p>I smoked while the men pored over <i>Raverty, Wood</i>, the maps and +the <i>Encyclopædia</i>.</p> + +<p>“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-by to +you.”</p> + +<p>“You <i>are</i> 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.”</p> + +<p>“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 to govern +it.”</p> + +<p>“Would two lunatics make a Contrack like that!” said +Carnehan, with subdued pride, showing me a greasy half-sheet of +note-paper on which was written the following. I copied it, then +and there, as a curiosity:—</p> + +<p class="contract">This Contract between me and you persuing witnesseth in the name +of God — Amen and so forth.</p> +<p class="contract-clause">(One) That me and you will settle +this matter together: <span style="font-style:normal">i.e.</span>, to be Kings of Kafiristan.</p> +<p class="contract-clause">(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.</p> +<p class="contract-clause">(Three) That we conduct ourselves +with Dignity and Discretion, and if one of us gets into trouble the +other will stay by him.</p> +<p class="contract-clause">Signed by you and me this day.<br /> +Peachey Taliaferro Carnehan.<br /> +Daniel Dravot.<br /> +Both Gentlemen at Large.</p> + +<p>“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 <i>are</i> loafers, Dan, +until we get out of India — and <i>do</i> you think that we could sign +a Contrack like that unless we was in earnest? We have kept away +from the two things that make life worth having.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>I left them still poring over the maps and making notes on the +back of the “Contrack.” “Be sure to come down to +the Serai to-morrow,” were their parting words.</p> + +<p>The Kumharsen Serai is the great four-square 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 there to see whether my +friends intended to keep their word or were lying about drunk.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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 honor or have his head cut off. He came in here +this morning and has been behaving madly ever since.”</p> + +<p>“The witless are under the protection of God,” +stammered a flat-cheeked Usbeg in broken Hindi. “They +foretell future events.”</p> + +<p>“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 feloniously diverted into the +hands of other robbers just across the Border, and whose +misfortunes were the laughing-stock of the bazar. +“Ohé, priest, whence come you and whither do you +go?”</p> + +<p>“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 Kahn be upon his labors!” He spread out the +skirts of his gaberdine and pirouetted between the lines of +tethered horses.</p> + +<p>“There starts a caravan from Peshawar to Kabul in twenty +days, <i>Huzrut</i>,” said the Eusufzai trader. “My camels go +therewith. Do thou also go and bring us good luck.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>He leaped on the back of his beast as it knelt, and turning +round to me, cried:—</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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. +’Tisn’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 camel-bags and tell me what you +feel.”</p> + +<p>I felt the butt of a Martini, and another and another.</p> + +<p>“Twenty of ’em,” said Dravot, placidly.</p> + +<p>“Twenty of ’em, and ammunition to correspond, under +the whirligigs and the mud dolls.”</p> + +<p>“Heaven help you if you are caught with those +things!” I said. “A Martini is worth her weight in +silver among the Pathans.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Have you got everything you want?” I asked, +overcome with astonishment.</p> + +<p>“Not yet, but we shall soon. Give us a momento of your +kindness, <i>Brother</i>. 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.</p> + +<p>“Good-by,” said Dravot, giving me his 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.</p> + +<p>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 +attested 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.</p> + +<p>Ten days later a native friend of mine, 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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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!”</p> + +<p>I went back to the office, the man following with groans of +pain, and I turned up the lamp.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know you,” I said, handing him the +whiskey. “What can I do for you?”</p> + +<p>He took a gulp of the spirit raw, and shivered in spite of the +suffocating heat.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>I was more than a little astonished, and expressed my feelings +accordingly.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Take the whiskey,” 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?”</p> + +<p>“I ain’t mad — yet, but I will 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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“No, don’t look there. Look at <i>me</i>,” said +Carnehan.</p> + +<p>“That comes afterwards, 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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 sheep-skin 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.”</p> + +<p>“Take some more whiskey,” I said, very slowly. +“What did you and Daniel Dravot do when the camels could go +no further because of the rough roads that led into +Kafiristan?”</p> + +<p>“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 mountainous +parts, and never a road broader than the back of your +hand.”</p> + +<p>He paused for a moment, while I asked him if he could remember +the nature of the country through which he had journeyed.</p> + +<p>“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 mountainous +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.</p> + +<p>“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 we 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 around 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 respectful with his own nose, patting him on the head, and +saluting in front of it. He turns round to the men and nods his +head, and says, — ‘That’s all right. I’m in +the know too, and these old jim-jams 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 we 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.”</p> + +<p>“Take some more whiskey and go on,” I said. +“That was the first village you came into. How did you get to +be King?”</p> + +<p>“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 and 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 into 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 o’ 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.</p> + +<p>“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 mountainous. 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 manœuvre +about as well as Volunteers. So he marches with the Chief to a +great big plain on the top of a mountain, and the Chiefs 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.”</p> + +<p>At the risk of throwing the creature out of train I +interrupted, — “How could you write a letter up +yonder?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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 cypher 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 failed.</p> + +<p>“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 priest 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.</p> + +<p>“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.’</p> + +<p>“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 pound weight, like a hoop of +a barrel.</p> + +<p>“‘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 afterwards, 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 priest 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.’</p> + +<p>“‘It’s against all the law,’ I says, +‘holding a Lodge without warrant from any one; and we never +held office in any Lodge.’</p> + +<p>“‘It’s a master-stroke of policy,’ says +Dravot. ‘It means running the country as easy as a +four-wheeled bogy 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 the Lodge-room. The +women must make aprons as you show them. I’ll hold a levee of +Chiefs tonight and Lodge to-morrow.’</p> + +<p>“I was fair rim 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 officers’ chairs, and painted the black +pavement with white squares, and did what we could to make things +regular.</p> + +<p>“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 Past 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 was 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 Bazar-master when I was +at Mhow, and so on, and so on.</p> + +<p>“<i>The</i> most amazing miracle 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 a 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 clamoring to be raised.</p> + +<p>“‘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 fair 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 +<i>my</i> 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!’</p> + +<p>“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 to 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 him about, +and I just waited for orders.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“I stayed in Ghorband a month, and gave the Governor 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 +manloads 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.</p> + +<p>“‘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, Sergeant-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 ship-shape, 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, its big! It’s big, I tell you! +But there’s so much to be done in every place — Bashkai, +Khawak, Shu, and everywhere else.’</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“‘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.</p> + +<p>“‘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, and it was as red as the gold of his +crown.</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“‘For Gord’s sake leave the women +alone!’ I says. ‘We’ve both got all the work we +can, though I <i>am</i> a fool. Remember the Contrack, and keep clear +o’ women.’</p> + +<p>“‘The Contrack 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 as +fair as chicken and ham.’</p> + +<p>“‘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 o’ +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; but no +women.’</p> + +<p>“‘Who’s talking o’ <i>women</i>?’ says +Dravot. ‘I said <i>wife</i> — 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.’</p> + +<p>“‘Do you remember that Bengali woman I kept at Mogul +Serai when I was 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 of +the running-shed!’</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“‘For the last time o’ asking, Dan, do +<i>not</i>,’ 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.’</p> + +<p>“‘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 low sun hit his crown and beard on one side, and +the two blazed like hot coals.</p> + +<p>“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?’ 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.’</p> + +<p>“‘The marriage of a 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.</p> + +<p>“‘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 know everything? How can +daughters of men marry gods or devils? It’s not +proper.’</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“‘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 a girl +crying fit to die. One of the priests told us that she was being +prepared to marry the King.</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“‘Hearten her very tender, then,’ says Dravot, +‘or I’ll hearten you with the butt of a gun so that +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.</p> + +<p>“‘What is up, Fish?’ I says to the Bashkai +man, who was wrapped up in his furs and looking splendid to +behold.</p> + +<p>“‘I can’t rightly say,’ says he; +‘but if you can induce the King to drop all this nonsense +about marriage, you’ll be doing him and me and yourself a +great service.’</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“‘For the last time, drop it, Dan,’ says I in +a whisper. ‘Billy Fish here says that there will be a +row.’</p> + +<p>“‘A row among my people!’ says Dravot. +‘Not much. Peachy, 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.’</p> + +<p>“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 deputation of priests went down to the little +temple to bring up the girl, and the horns blew up 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.</p> + +<p>“‘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.</p> + +<p>“‘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.</p> + +<p>“‘God A-mighty!’ says Dan. ‘What is the +meaning o’ this?’</p> + +<p>“‘Come back! Come away!’ says Billy Fish. +‘Ruin and Mutiny is the matter. We’ll break for Bashkai +if we can.’</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“‘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’s protestations. He was swearing +horribly 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.</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“‘All right, Dan,’ says I; ‘but come +along now while there’s time.’</p> + +<p>“‘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.</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“‘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!’</p> + +<p>“‘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.</p> + +<p>“‘There’s no hope o’ getting +clear,’ said Billy Fish. ‘The priests will 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.</p> + +<p>“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-wise as if they wanted to +ask something, but they said never 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!</p> + +<p>“‘The runners have been very quick,’ says +Billy Fish, with a little bit of a laugh. ‘They are waiting +for us.’</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“‘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!’</p> + +<p>“‘Go!’ says I. ‘Go to Hell, Dan. +I’m with you here. Billy Fish, you clear out, and we two will +meet those folk.’</p> + +<p>“‘I’m a Chief,’ says Billy Fish, quite +quiet. ‘I stay with you. My men can go.’</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>The punkah-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?”</p> + +<p>The momentary shift of my eyes had broken the clear current.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“But do you know what they did to Peachey between two +pine-trees? They crucified him, sir, as Peachey’s hands will +show. They used wooden pegs for his hands and his feet; and 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…”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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 knew Dravot, +sir! You knew Right Worshipful Brother Dravot! Look at him +now!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“You behold now,” said Carnehan, “the Emperor +in his habit as he lived — the King of Kafiristan with his +crown upon his head. Poor old Daniel that was a monarch +once!”</p> + +<p>I shuddered, for, in spite of defacements manifold, I recognized +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 whiskey, 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 Poor-house 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.”</p> + +<p>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:—</p> + +<p class="song">“The Son of Man goes forth to war,<br /> +A golden crown to gain;</p> +<p class="song">His blood-red banner streams afar—<br /> +Who follows in his train?”</p> + +<p>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 recognize, and I left him +singing to the missionary.</p> + +<p>Two days later I inquired after his welfare of the +Superintendent of the Asylum.</p> + +<p>“He was admitted suffering from sun-stroke. He died early +yesterday morning,” said the Superintendent. “Is it +true that he was half an hour bareheaded in the sun at +midday?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said I, “but do you happen to know if +he had anything upon him by any chance when he died?”</p> + +<p>“Not to my knowledge,” said the Superintendent.</p> + +<p>And there the matter rests.</p> + +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Man Who Would Be King, by Rudyard Kipling + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING *** + +***** This file should be named 8147-h.htm or 8147-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/1/4/8147/ + +Produced by Jeffrey Kraus-yao +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + +Title: The Man Who Would Be King + +Author: Rudyard Kipling + +Posting Date: September 8, 2014 [EBook #8147] +Release Date: May, 2005 +First Posted: June 20, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING *** + + + + +Produced by Jeffrey Kraus-yao + + + + + + + + + +The Man Who Would be King + + By + + Rudyard Kipling + + + + +Published by Brentano's at 31 Union Square New York + + THE MAN WHO WOULD + BE KING + +"Brother to a Prince and fellow to a beggar if he be found worthy." + +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 and 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 patronize refreshment-rooms. They carry their food +in bundles and pots, and buy sweets from the native sweetmeat-sellers, +and drink the roadside water. That is why in the 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 a huge 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 +whiskey. 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 +million," 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 underside 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, which is +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 are 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 telegram 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 23d for Bombay. That means he'll be running +through Ajmir about the night of the 23d." + +"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? 'Twon'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 compartment. +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 ask 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. Native States were +created by Providence in order to supply picturesque scenery, tigers +and tall-writing. 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 a flapjack, and drank the running +water, and slept under the same rug as my servant. It was all in a +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 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 +is 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 +impudence. 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 "stuck up" 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 except 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 commands 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 +punkah-pulling machines, carriage couplings and unbreakable swords and +axle-trees 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 clamor to have the glories +of their last dance more fully expounded; 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 copy-boys +are whining, "kaa-pi chayha-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 other six months +wherein 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 of 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 as 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 deg. to almost 84 deg. for almost half +an hour, and in that chill--you have no idea how cold is 84 deg. on the +grass until you begin to pray for it--a very tired man could set 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, was 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 see 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 the 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 favor, because you did us +a bad turn about Degumber." + +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 to you 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." I watched the test. The men +were absolutely sober, so I gave them each a tepid peg. + +"Well and good," said Carnehan of the eyebrows, wiping the froth from +his mustache. "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 its 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. It's a mountainous country, and the women of those +parts are very beautiful." + +"But that is provided against in the Contrack," said Carnehan. "Neither +Women nor Liquor, 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 +book-cases. + +"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 Roberts'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 an all-fired lot of +heathens, but this book here says they think they're related to us +English." + +I smoked while the men pored 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-by 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 to +govern it." + +"Would two lunatics make a Contrack like that!" said Carnehan, with +subdued pride, showing me a greasy half-sheet of note-paper on which +was written the following. I copied it, then and there, as a +curiosity:-- + +This Contract between me and you persuing 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 could 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 "Contrack." "Be sure to come down to the Serai to-morrow," were +their parting words. + +The Kumharsen Serai is the great four-square 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 there to see whether my friends intended to keep their word or +were lying about 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 honor 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 +feloniously diverted into the hands of other robbers just across the +Border, and whose misfortunes were the laughing-stock of the bazar. +"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 Kahn be upon his labors!" He spread +out the skirts of his gaberdine 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. +'Tisn'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 camel-bags 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-by," said Dravot, giving me his 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 attested 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 friend of mine, 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 whiskey. "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 whiskey," 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 will 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 afterwards, 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 sheep-skin 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 whiskey," I said, very slowly. "What did you and Daniel +Dravot do when the camels could go no further 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 mountainous 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 mountainous 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 we 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 around 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 +respectful with his own nose, patting him on the head, and saluting in +front of it. He turns round to the men and nods his head, and +says,--'That's all right. I'm in the know too, and these old jim-jams +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 we 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 whiskey 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 +and 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 into 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 o' 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 mountainous. 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 Chiefs 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 cypher 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 failed. + +"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 priest 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 pound 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 afterwards, 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 priest 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 we never held office in any Lodge.' + +"'It's a master-stroke of policy,' says Dravot. 'It means running the +country as easy as a four-wheeled bogy 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 the Lodge-room. The women must +make aprons as you show them. I'll hold a levee of Chiefs tonight and +Lodge to-morrow.' + +"I was fair rim 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 officers' 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 Past 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 was 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 Bazar-master when I was at Mhow, and so on, and so on. + +"The most amazing miracle 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 a 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 clamoring 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 fair 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 +to 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 him 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 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 manloads 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, Sergeant-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 +ship-shape, 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, its 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, and it was as red as 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 Contrack, and keep +clear o' women.' + +"'The Contrack 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 as fair as 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 o' 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; but 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 +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 of the +running-shed!' + +"'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 low sun +hit his crown and beard on one side, and the two blazed like hot coals. + +"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?' 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 a 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 know 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 a 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 that 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 says 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 induce the King to +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. Peachy, 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 deputation of priests went down to the little temple to bring +up the girl, and the horns blew up 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's protestations. He was swearing horribly +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 will +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-wise as if they wanted to ask something, but they said +never 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 punkah-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 hands will show. They used wooden pegs +for his hands and his feet; and 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 +knew 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 behold now," said Carnehan, "the Emperor in his habit 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 recognized 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 whiskey, +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 Poor-house 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 recognize, and I left him singing to the missionary. + +Two days later I inquired after his welfare of the Superintendent of +the Asylum. + +"He was admitted suffering from sun-stroke. 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. + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Man Who Would Be King, by Rudyard Kipling + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING *** + +***** This file should be named 8147.txt or 8147.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/1/4/8147/ + +Produced by Jeffrey Kraus-yao +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Man Who Would Be King + +Author: Rudyard Kipling + +Release Date: May, 2005 [EBook #8147] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on June 20, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING *** + + + + +Produced by Jeffrey Kraus-yao. + + + + +The Man Who +Would be King + + By + + Rudyard Kipling + + + + +Published by Brentanos at +31 Union Square New York + + THE MAN WHO WOULD + BE KING + +Brother to a Prince and fellow to a beggar if he +be found worthy. + +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 and 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 patronize +refreshment-rooms. They carry their food +in bundles and pots, and buy sweets from the +native sweetmeat-sellers, and drink the roadside +water. That is why in the 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 a +huge 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 whiskey. 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 +theyd get their next days rations, it isnt +seventy millions of revenue the land would +be payingits seven hundred million, said +he; and as I looked at his mouth and chin I +was disposed to agree with him. We talked +politicsthe politics of Loaferdom that sees +things from the underside where the lath +and plaster is not smoothed offand we +talked postal arrangements because my +friend wanted to send a telegram back from +the next station to Ajmir, which is 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 thatd mean inquiries for +you and for me, and Ive got my hands full +these days. Did you say you are travelling +back along this line within any days? + +Within ten, I said. + +Cant you make it eight? said he. +Mine is rather urgent business. + +I can send your telegram within ten +days if that will serve you, I said. + +I couldnt trust the wire to fetch him +now I think of it. Its this way. He leaves +Delhi on the 23d for Bombay. That means +hell be running through Ajmir about the +night of the 23d. + +But Im going into the Indian Desert, +I explained. + +Well and good, said he. Youll be +changing at Marwar Junction to get into +Jodhpore territoryyou must do thatand +hell 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? Twont be inconveniencing +you because I know that theres +precious few pickings to be got out of these +Central India Stateseven 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 youve time to get your knife +into them. But about my friend here. I +must give him a word o mouth to tell him +whats come to me or else he wont 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. Hell know what that +means. Hes a big man with a red beard, +and a great swell he is. Youll find him +sleeping like a gentleman with all his luggage +round him in a second-class compartment. +But dont you be afraid. Slip down +the window, and say:He has gone South +for the week, and hell tumble. Its only +cutting your time of stay in those parts by +two days. I ask you as a strangergoing 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 Squarefor 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. + +Its more than a little matter, said he, +and thats why I ask you to do itand +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. +Youll 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. + +Ill give the message if I catch him, I +said, and for the sake of your Mother as +well as mine Ill give you a word of advice. +Dont try to run the Central India States +just now as the correspondent of the Backwoodsman. +Theres 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 cant starve because +hes ruining my work. I wanted to +get hold of the Degumber Rajah down here +about his fathers widow, and give him a +jump. + +What did he do to his fathers 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 Im the only +man that would dare going into the State to +get hush-money for it. Theyll try to poison +me, same as they did in Chortumna +when I went on the loot there. But youll +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. Native States +were created by Providence in order to supply +picturesque scenery, tigers and tall-writing. +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 a flapjack, and +drank the running water, and slept under +the same rug as my servant. It was all in a +days 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 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 is 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 +thats just like his impudence. Did he say +that I was to give you anything?Cause I +wont. + +He didnt, 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 trainnot an Intermediate Carriage +this timeand 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 +stuck up 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 except 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 commands 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 punkah-pulling machines, +carriage couplings and unbreakable +swords and axle-trees 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 clamor to have the glories +of their last dance more fully expounded; +strange ladies rustle in and say:I want a +hundred ladys cards printed at once, please, +which is manifestly part of an Editors 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, Youre +another, and Mister Gladstone is calling +down brimstone upon the British Dominions, +and the little black copy-boys are whining, +kaa-pi chayha-yeh (copy wanted) like +tired bees, and most of the paper is as blank +as Modreds shield. + +But that is the amusing part of the year. +There are other six months wherein 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 +of 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 as 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 cant the paper be sparkling? +Im sure theres 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 to almost 84 for +almost half an hour, and in that chillyou +have no idea how cold is 84 on the grass +until you begin to pray for ita very tired +man could set 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, was 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 oclock 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:Its +him! The second said So it is! And +they both laughed almost as loudly as the +machinery roared, and mopped their foreheads. +We see 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. Lets +come along and speak to him as turned us +back from the 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 hours talk with you cool and +comfortable, in the office, said the red-bearded +man. Wed like some drinkthe +Contrack doesnt begin yet, Peachey, so you +neednt lookbut what we really want is +advice. We dont want money. We ask +you as a favor, because you did us a bad +turn about Degumber. + +I led from the press-room to the stifling +office with the maps on the walls, and the +red-haired man rubbed his hands. Thats +something like, said he. This was the +proper shop to come to. Now, Sir, let me +introduce to you Brother Peachey Carnehan, +thats 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 thats sure. It will save you cutting +into my talk. Well take one of your cigars +apiece, and you shall see us light. +I watched the test. The men were absolutely +sober, so I gave them each a tepid +peg. + +Well and good, said Carnehan of the +eyebrows, wiping the froth from his mustache. +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 isnt big enough for such +as us. + +They certainly were too big for the office. +Dravots beard seemed to fill half the room +and Carnehans shoulders the other half, as +they sat on the big table. Carnehan continued: +The country isnt half worked +out because they that governs it wont let +you touch it. They spend all their blessed +time in governing it, and you cant lift a +spade, nor chip a rock, nor look for oil, nor +anything like that without all the Government +sayingLeave 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 isnt 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. Youve been +tramping in the sun, and its a very warm +night, and hadnt 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 its the top +right-hand corner of Afghanistan, not more +than three hundred miles from Peshawar. +They have two and thirty heathen idols there, +and well be the thirty-third. Its a mountainous +country, and the women of those +parts are very beautiful. + +But that is provided against in the Contrack, +said Carnehan. Neither Women +nor Liquor, Daniel. + +And thats 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 findD 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. + +Youll be cut to pieces before youre +fifty miles across the Border, I said. +You have to travel through Afghanistan +to get to that country. Its 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 couldnt do anything. + +Thats 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 +book-cases. + +Are you at all in earnest? I said. + +A little, said Dravot, sweetly. As big +a map as you have got, even if its all blank +where Kafiristan is, and any books youve +got. We can read, though we arent 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 Encyclopdia 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 +Robertss Army. Well have to turn off to +the right at Jagdallak through Laghmann +territory. Then we get among the hills +fourteen thousand feetfifteen thousand +it will be cold work there, but it dont look +very far on the map. + +I handed him Wood on the Sources of +the Oxus. Carnehan was deep in the Encyclopdia. + +Theyre a mixed lot, said Dravot, reflectively; +and it wont help us to know +the names of their tribes. The more tribes +the more theyll fight, and the better for us. +From Jagdallak to Ashang. Hmm! + +But all the information about the country +is as sketchy and inaccurate as can be, +I protested. No one knows anything +about it really. Heres the file of the +United Services Institute. Read what Bellew +says. + +Blow Bellew! said Carnehan. Dan, +theyre an all-fired lot of heathens, but this +book here says they think theyre related to +us English. + +I smoked while the men pored over +Raverty, Wood, the maps and the Encyclopdia. + +There is no use your waiting, said +Dravot, politely. Its about four oclock +now. Well go before six oclock if you +want to sleep, and we wont steal any of +the papers. Dont you sit up. Were two +harmless lunatics, and if you come, to-morrow +evening, down to the Serai well say +good-by to you. + +You are two fools, I answered. Youll +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 isnt +so easy being a King as it looks. When +weve got our Kingdom in going order well +let you know, and you can come up and help +us to govern it. + +Would two lunatics make a Contrack +like that! said Carnehan, with subdued +pride, showing me a greasy half-sheet of note-paper +on which was written the following. +I copied it, then and there, as a curiosity: + +This Contract between me and you persuing witnesseth +in the name of GodAmen 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 arewe are loafers, Dan, +until we get out of Indiaand do you think +that we could sign a Contrack like that +unless we was in earnest? We have kept +away from the two things that make life +worth having. + +You wont enjoy your lives much longer +if you are going to try this idiotic adventure. +Dont set the office on fire, I said, and go +away before nine oclock. + +I left them still poring over the maps and +making notes on the back of the Contrack. +Be sure to come down to the Serai to-morrow, +were their parting words. + +The Kumharsen Serai is the great four-square +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 +there to see whether my friends intended to +keep their word or were lying about drunk. + +A priest attired in fragments of ribbons +and rags stalked up to me, gravely twisting +a childs 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 +honor 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 +feloniously diverted into the hands of other +robbers just across the Border, and whose +misfortunes were the laughing-stock of the +bazar. Oh, 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 +Kahn be upon his labors! He spread out +the skirts of his gaberdine 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 charman 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 cant talk their patter, +so Ive made him my servant. He makes a +handsome servant. Tisnt for nothing that +Ive been knocking about the country for +fourteen years. Didnt I do that talk neat? +Well hitch on to a caravan at Peshawar till +we get to Jagdallak, and then well see if we +can get donkeys for our camels, and strike +into Kafiristan. Whirligigs for the Amir, +O Lor! Put your hand under the camel-bags +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 capitalevery +rupee we could beg, borrow, or stealare +invested on these two camels, said Dravot. +We wont get caught. Were going through +the Khaiber with a regular caravan. Whod +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-by, said Dravot, giving me his +hand cautiously. Its the last time well +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 attested 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 friend of mine, +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 oclock 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 +crawledthis 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 Lords +sake, give me a drink! + +I went back to the office, the man following +with groans of pain, and I turned up the +lamp. + +Dont 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 dont know you, I said, handing him +the whiskey. What can I do for you? + +He took a gulp of the spirit raw, and shivered +in spite of the suffocating heat. + +Ive come back, he repeated; and I +was the King of Kafiristanme and Dravot +crowned Kings we was! In this office we +settled ityou setting there and giving us +the books. I am PeacheyPeachey Taliaferro +Carnehan, and youve been setting here +ever sinceO Lord! + +I was more than a little astonished, and +expressed my feelings accordingly. + +Its 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 headsme and Dravot +poor Danoh, poor, poor Dan, that would +never take advice, not though I begged of +him! + +Take the whiskey, 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 aint madyet, but I will 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 +dont 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 birds claw, and upon +the back was a ragged, red, diamond-shaped +scar. + +No, dont look there. Look at me, said +Carnehan. + +That comes afterwards, but for the Lords +sake dont 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 +dinnerscooking their dinners, and what +did they do then? They lit little fires +with sparks that went into Dravots beard, +and we all laughedfit to die. Little red +fires they was, going into Dravots big red +beardso 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 didnt neither. What are you +talking about? We turned off before Jagdallak, +because we heard the roads was good. +But they wasnt good enough for our two +camelsmine and Dravots. When we left +the caravan, Dravot took off all his clothes +and mine too, and said we would be heathen, +because the Kafirs didnt 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 sheep-skin 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 +couldnt go along any more because of the +mountains. They were tall and black, and +coming home I saw them fight like wild +goatsthere are lots of goats in Kafiristan. +And these mountains, they never keep still, +no more than the goats. Always fighting +they are, and dont let you sleep at night. + +Take some more whiskey, I said, very +slowly. What did you and Daniel Dravot +do when the camels could go no further 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 AmirNo; they +was two for three hapence, those whirligigs, +or I am much mistaken and woful sore. +And then these camels were no use, and +Peachey said to DravotFor the Lords +sake, lets 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 mountainous +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 isnt as good as it might be. They +drove nails through it to make me hear +better how Dravot died. The country was +mountainous 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 couldnt sing it wasnt 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 menfairer than +you or mewith yellow hair and remarkable +well built. Says Dravot, unpacking the +gunsThis is the beginning of the business. +Well 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 we 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 around 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 +biggesta fellow they call Imbraand lays +a rifle and a cartridge at his feet, rubbing his +nose respectful with his own nose, patting +him on the head, and saluting in front of it. +He turns round to the men and nods his +head, and says,Thats all right. Im in +the know too, and these old jim-jams are my +friends. Then he opens his mouth and +points down it, and when the first man +brings him food, he saysNo; 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 +saysYes; very haughty, and eats it slow. +That was how we 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 couldnt expect a man to laugh +much after that. + +Take some more whiskey and go on, I +said. That was the first village you came +into. How did you get to be King? + +I wasnt 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 Dravots order. +Then a lot of men came into the valley, and +Carnehan and 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 deadeight there was. +For each dead man Dravot pours a little milk +on the ground and waves his arms like a +whirligig and, Thats all right, says he. +Then he and Carnehan takes the big boss of +each village by the arm and walks them +down into 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 o 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 didnt understand. +Then we asks the names of things in their +lingobread 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. Thats just the beginning, +says Dravot. They think were 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 +wasnt 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 mountainous. 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 manuvre about as well as +Volunteers. So he marches with the Chief +to a great big plain on the top of a mountain, +and the Chiefs 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 wed 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 cypher 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 failed. + +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 priest 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 devils 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 amazinga great gold crown on his +head. My Gord, Carnehan, says Daniel, +this is a tremenjus business, and weve got +the whole country as far as its worth having. +I am the son of Alexander by Queen Semiramis, +and youre my younger brother and +a god too! Its the biggest thing weve ever +seen. Ive 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, Ive got the +key of the whole show, as youll see, and +Ive 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 Ive seen, and turquoise Ive kicked out +of the cliffs, and theres garnets in the sands +of the river, and heres 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 wasfive pound weight, +like a hoop of a barrel. + +Peachey, says Dravot, we dont want to +fight no more. The Crafts the trick so help +me! and he brings forward that same Chief +that I left at BashkaiBilly Fish we called +him afterwards, 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 Masters 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. Its a miracle! The Chiefs and +the priest can work a Fellow Craft Lodge +in a way thats very like ours, and theyve +cut the marks on the rocks, but they +dont know the Third Degree, and theyve +come to find out. Its Gords Truth. +Ive 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 +well raise the head priests and the Chiefs of +the villages. + +Its against all the law, I says, holding +a Lodge without warrant from any one; +and we never held office in any Lodge. + +Its a master-stroke of policy, says +Dravot. It means running the country as +easy as a four-wheeled bogy on a down +grade. We cant stop to inquire now, or +theyll turn against us. Ive 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 the Lodge-room. The women +must make aprons as you show them. Ill +hold a levee of Chiefs tonight and Lodge to-morrow. + +I was fair rim off my legs, but I wasnt +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 Dravots 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 +Masters chair, and little stones for the officers +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 Past 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 was 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 IndiaBilly Fish, Holly Dilworth, Pikky +Kergan that was Bazar-master when I was +at Mhow, and so on, and so on. + +The most amazing miracle was at Lodge +next night. One of the old priests was +watching us continuous, and I felt uneasy, +for I knew wed have to fudge the Ritual, +and I didnt 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 Masters 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. Its 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-Masters 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 Masters +Mark, same as was on Dravots 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 Dravots feet +and kisses em. Luck again, says Dravot, +across the Lodge to me, they say its the +missing Mark that no one could understand +the why of. Were 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 +mineI was doing Senior Wardenand we +opens the Lodge in most ample form. It +was a 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 didnt raise more than ten of +the biggest men because we didnt want to +make the Degree common. And they was +clamoring to be raised. + +In another six months, says Dravot, +well 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 +fair sick and tired of it. And when they +wasnt 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 wont cheat me because youre +white peoplesons of Alexanderand not +like common, black Mohammedans. You are +my people and by God, says he, running +off into English at the endIll make a +damned fine Nation of you, or Ill die in the +making! + +I cant tell all we did for the next six +months because Dravot did a lot I couldnt +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 +to 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 him 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 Kafuzelumit was like enough to +his real nameand 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 Amirs workshops +at Kabul, from one of the Amirs 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 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 thatll throw to six hundred +yards, and forty manloads 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 wont make a Nation, says he. Ill +make an Empire! These men arent niggers; +theyre English! Look at their eyes +look at their mouths. Look at the way they +stand up. They sit on chairs in their own +houses. Theyre the Lost Tribes, or something +like it, and theyve grown to be English. +Ill take a census in the spring if the +priests dont get frightened. There must be +a fair two million of em in these hills. The +villages are full o little children. Two million +peopletwo hundred and fifty thousand +fighting menand all English! They only +want the rifles and a little drilling. Two +hundred and fifty thousand men, ready to +cut in on Russias 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. Ill treat +with the Viceroy on equal terms. Ill ask +him to send me twelve picked English +twelve that I know ofto help us govern a +bit. Theres Mackray, Sergeant-pensioner at +Segowlimanys the good dinner hes given +me, and his wife a pair of trousers. Theres +Donkin, the Warder of Tounghoo Jail; +theres hundreds that I could lay my hand +on if I was in India. The Viceroy shall do +it for me. Ill send a man through in the +spring for those men, and Ill write for a +dispensation from the Grand Lodge for what +Ive done as Grand-Master. Thatand all +the Sniders thatll be thrown out when the +native troops in India take up the Martini. +Theyll be worn smooth, but theyll do for +fighting in these hills. Twelve English, a +hundred thousand Sniders run through the +Amirs country in dribletsId be content +with twenty thousand in one yearand wed +be an Empire. When everything was ship-shape, +Id hand over the crownthis crown +Im wearing nowto Queen Victoria on my +knees, and shed say:Rise up, Sir Daniel +Dravot. Oh, its big! Its big, I tell you! +But theres so much to be done in every +placeBashkai, 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. +Theyre bringing the snow. + +It isnt that, says Daniel, putting his +hand very hard on my shoulder; and I +dont wish to say anything thats against +you, for no other living man would have +followed me and made me what I am as you +have done. Youre a first-class Commander-in-Chief, +and the people know you; butits +a big country, and somehow you cant 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 Id drilled all the men, and +done all he told me. + +Dont lets quarrel, Peachey, says Daniel +without cursing. Youre a King too, +and the half of this Kingdom is yours; but +cant you see, Peachey, we want cleverer +men than us nowthree or four of em that +we can scatter about for our Deputies? Its +a hugeous great State, and I cant always tell +the right thing to do, and I havent time for +all I want to do, and heres the winter coming +on and all. He put half his beard into +his mouth, and it was as red as the gold of +his crown. + +Im sorry, Daniel, says I. Ive done +all I could. Ive drilled the men and shown +the people how to stack their oats better, and +Ive brought in those tinware rifles from +Ghorbandbut I know what youre driving +at. I take it Kings always feel oppressed +that way. + +Theres another thing too, says Dravot, +walking up and down. The winters coming +and these people wont be giving much +trouble, and if they do we cant move about. +I want a wife. + +For Gords sake leave the women alone! +I says. Weve both got all the work we +can, though I am a fool. Remember the +Contrack, and keep clear o women. + +The Contrack 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, Peacheya nice, strappin, plump girl +thatll keep you warm in the winter. Theyre +prettier than English girls, and we can take +the pick of em. Boil em once or twice in +hot water, and theyll come as fair as chicken +and ham. + +Dont 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. +Ive been doing the work o two men, and +youve been doing the work o three. Lets +lie off a bit, and see if we can get some +better tobacco from Afghan country and run +in some good liquor; but no women. + +Whos talking o women? says Dravot. +I said wifea Queen to breed a Kings son +for the King. A Queen out of the strongest +tribe, thatll make them your blood-brothers, +and thatll lie by your side and tell you all +the people thinks about you and their own +affairs. Thats what I want. + +Do you remember that Bengali woman +I kept at Mogul Serai when I was 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 Masters servant +and half my months 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 of the running-shed! + +Weve 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. Itll only bring us harm. The +Bible says that Kings aint to waste their +strength on women, specially when theyve +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 +low sun hit his crown and beard on one side, +and the two blazed like hot coals. + +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 hed better ask the girls. Dravot +damned them all round. Whats 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? Havent 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? Whos the Grand-Master +of the sign cut in the stone? 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. Thats how its done at home, and +these people are quite English. + +The marriage of a 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, +whats the difficulty here? A straight +answer to a true friend. You know, says +Billy Fish. How should a man tell you +who know everything? How can daughters +of men marry gods or devils? Its 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 +wasnt for me to undeceive them. + +A god can do anything, says I. If +the King is fond of a girl hell not let her +die. Shell 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 isnt 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 a girl crying fit +to die. One of the priests told us that she +was being prepared to marry the King. + +Ill have no nonsense of that kind, +says Dan. I dont want to interfere with +your customs, but Ill take my own wife. +The girls a little bit afraid, says the priest. +She thinks shes going to die, and they are +a-heartening of her up down in the temple. + +Hearten her very tender, then, says +Dravot, or Ill hearten you with the butt +of a gun so that youll 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 +wasnt 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 says to the Bashkai +man, who was wrapped up in his furs +and looking splendid to behold. + +I cant rightly say, says he; but if you +can induce the King to drop all this nonsense +about marriage, youll 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, Ill stick by you to-day. I +have twenty of my men with me, and they +will follow me. Well 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. Peachy, youre a fool not to +get a wife too. Wheres 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 deputation of priests went +down to the little temple to bring up the +girl, and the horns blew up 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. + +Shell do, said Dan, looking her over. +Whats 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 Dans flaming +red beard. + +The sluts 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. +Well break for Bashkai if we can. + +I tried to give some sort of orders to my +menthe men o the regular Armybut 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 wasnt 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 cant 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 Dravots protestations. He was +swearing horribly and crying out that he +was a King. The priests rolled great stones +on us, and the regular Army fired hard, and +there wasnt 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 Gords sake come away! says Billy +Fish. Theyll send runners out to all the +villages before ever we get to Bashkai. I +can protect you there, but I cant 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 theres time. + +Its your fault, says he, for not looking +after your Army better. There was +mutiny in the midst, and you didnt know +you damned engine-driving, plate-laying, +missionarys-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. + +Im sorry, Dan, says I, but theres no +accounting for natives. This business is our +Fifty-Seven. Maybe well make something +out of it yet, when weve got to Bashkai. + +Lets get to Bashkai, then, says Dan, +and, by God, when I come back here again +Ill sweep the valley so there isnt 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. + +Theres no hope o getting clear, said +Billy Fish. The priests will have sent +runners to the villages to say that you are +only men. Why didnt you stick on as gods +till things was more settled? Im 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 +countryall up and down, no level ground +at all, and no food either. The six Bashkai +men looked at Billy Fish hungry-wise as if +they wanted to ask something, but they said +never 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 +enemys 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. + +Were done for, says he. They are +Englishmen, these people,and its my +blasted nonsense that has brought you to +this. Get back, Billy Fish, and take your +men away; youve done what you could, +and now cut for it. Carnehan, says he, +shake hands with me and go along with +Billy. Maybe they wont kill you. Ill go +and meet em alone. Its me that did it. +Me, the King! + +Go! says I. Go to Hell, Dan. Im +with you here. Billy Fish, you clear out, +and we two will meet those folk. + +Im a Chief, says Billy Fish, quite +quiet. I stay with you. My men can go. + +The Bashkai fellows didnt 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. Ive +got that cold in the back of my head now. +Theres a lump of it there. + +The punkah-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 himnot 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:Weve had a +dashed fine run for our money. Whats +coming next? But Peachey, Peachey +Taliaferro, I tell you, Sir, in confidence as betwixt +two friends, he lost his head, Sir. No, +he didnt 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. Dyou +suppose I cant die like a gentleman? He +turns to PeacheyPeachey that was crying +like a child. Ive 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 Emperors forces. Say you forgive me, +Peachey. I do, says Peachey. Fully and +freely do I forgive you, Dan. Shake +hands, Peachey, says he. Im 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 Peacheys hands will +show. They used wooden pegs for his hands +and his feet; and he didnt die. He hung +there and screamed, and they took him +down next day, and said it was a miracle +that he wasnt dead. They took him down +poor old Peachey that hadnt done them +any harmthat hadnt 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. +Its a big thing were doing. The mountains +they danced at night, and the mountains +they tried to fall on Peacheys head, +but Dan he held up his hand, and Peachey +came along bent double. He never let go +of Dans hand, and he never let go of Dans +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 knew 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 tablethe 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 behold now, said Carnehan, the +Emperor in his habit as he livedthe 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 recognized 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 whiskey, +and give me a little money, he gasped. +I was a King once. Ill go to the Deputy +Commissioner and ask to set in the Poor-house +till I get my health. No, thank you, +I cant wait till you get a carriage for me. +Ive urgent private affairsin the southat +Marwar. + +He shambled out of the office and departed +in the direction of the Deputy Commissioners +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 recognize, and I left him singing to +the missionary. + +Two days later I inquired after his welfare +of the Superintendent of the Asylum. + +He was admitted suffering from sun-stroke. +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. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Man Who Would Be King, by Rudyard Kipling + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING *** + +This file should be named 7king10.txt or 7king10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 7king11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 7king10a.txt + +Produced by Jeffrey Kraus-yao. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/old/7king10.zip b/old/7king10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8d06b77 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/7king10.zip diff --git a/old/8king10h.htm b/old/8king10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6f3c354 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/8king10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2044 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" ?> +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<title>The Man Who Would Be King</title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8" /> +<meta name="author" content="Rudyard Kipling" /> +<meta name="genre" content="Fiction" /> +<style type="text/css"> +body {margin-left:12pt; margin-right:12pt} +div.title {text-align:center; margin-top:96pt} +h1 {font-size:large; text-align:center} +div.content {page-break-before:always} +p.publisher {font-size:x-small} +p.quote {font-size:x-small; text-indent:8pt} +p.contract {font-style:italic; text-indent:8pt; margin-top:4pt; margin-bottom:4pt} +p.contract-clause {font-style:italic; margin-left:42pt; text-indent:-34pt; margin-top:4pt; margin-bottom:4pt} +p.song {font-size:x-small; margin-left:32pt; text-indent:-12pt; margin-top:4pt; margin-bottom:4pt} +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Man Who Would Be King, by Rudyard Kipling +#24 in our series by Rudyard Kipling + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Man Who Would Be King + +Author: Rudyard Kipling + +Release Date: May, 2005 [EBook #8147] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on June 20, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING *** + + + + +Produced by Jeffrey Kraus-yao. + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="title"> +<h1>The Man Who Would be King</h1> + +<p>By</p> + +<p>Rudyard Kipling</p> + +<p class="publisher">Published by Brentano’s at 31 Union Square New York</p> + +</div> + +<div class="content"> + +<h1>THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING</h1> + +<p class="quote">“Brother to a Prince and fellow to a beggar if he be found +worthy.”</p> + +<p>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 and hunt it for myself.</p> + +<p>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 patronize +refreshment-rooms. They carry their food in bundles and pots, and +buy sweets from the native sweetmeat-sellers, and drink the +roadside water. That is why in the hot weather Intermediates are +taken out of the carriages dead, and in all weathers are most +properly looked down upon.</p> + +<p>My particular Intermediate happened to be empty till I reached +Nasirabad, when a huge 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 whiskey. 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 million,” +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 underside 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, which is 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.</p> + +<p>“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 are travelling back along this line +within any days?”</p> + +<p>“Within ten,” I said.</p> + +<p>“Can’t you make it eight?” said he. +“Mine is rather urgent business.”</p> + +<p>“I can send your telegram within ten days if that will +serve you,” I said.</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t trust the wire to fetch him now I think +of it. It’s this way. He leaves Delhi on the 23d for Bombay. +That means he’ll be running through Ajmir about the night of +the 23d.”</p> + +<p>“But I’m going into the Indian Desert,” I +explained.</p> + +<p>“Well <i>and</i> 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? +’Twon’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 <i>Backwoodsman</i>.”</p> + +<p>“Have you ever tried that trick?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“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 <i>must</i> 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 compartment. 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.</p> + +<p>“Where have <i>you</i> come from?” said I.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“It’s more than a little matter,” said he, +“and that’s why I ask 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.”</p> + +<p>“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 +<i>Backwoodsman</i>. There’s a real one knocking about here, and it +might lead to trouble.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“What did he do to his father’s widow, +then?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>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. Native States were created by +Providence in order to supply picturesque scenery, tigers and +tall-writing. 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 a flapjack, and +drank the running water, and slept under the same rug as my +servant. It was all in a day’s work.</p> + +<p>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 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.</p> + +<p>“Tickets again?” said he.</p> + +<p>“No,” said I. “I am to tell you that he is +gone South for the week. He is gone South for the week!”</p> + +<p>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 impudence. Did he say that I +was to give you anything? — ’Cause I +won’t.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 “stuck up” 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.</p> + +<p>Then I became respectable, and returned to an Office where there +were no Kings and no incidents except 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 commands sit down and sketch the outline of a series of ten, +twelve, or twenty-four leading articles on Seniority <i>versus</i> +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 +punkah-pulling machines, carriage couplings and unbreakable swords +and axle-trees 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 +clamor to have the glories of their last dance more fully +expounded; strange ladies rustle in and say:— “I want a +hundred lady’s cards printed <i>at once</i>, 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 +copy-boys are whining, “<i>kaa-pi chayha-yeh</i>” (copy +wanted) like tired bees, and most of the paper is as blank as +Modred’s shield.</p> + +<p>But that is the amusing part of the year. There are other six +months wherein 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 of +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 +as 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.”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>That is the dark half of the moon, and, as the advertisements +say, “must be experienced to be appreciated.”</p> + +<p>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° to almost +84° for almost half an hour, and in that chill — you have no +idea how cold is 84° on the grass until you begin to pray for +it — a very tired man could set off to sleep ere the heat +roused him.</p> + +<p>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 <i>loo</i>, 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 <i>loo</i> 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, was 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.</p> + +<p>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 see 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 the 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.</p> + +<p>I was not pleased, because I wished to go to sleep, not to +squabble with loafers. “What do you want?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“Half an hour’s talk with you cool and comfortable, +in the office,” said the red-bearded man. “We’d +<i>like</i> 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 favor, because +you did us a bad turn about Degumber.”</p> + +<p>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 to you +Brother Peachey Carnehan, that’s him, and Brother Daniel +Dravot, that is <i>me</i>, 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 <i>Backwoodsman</i> 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.” I watched the test. The men were absolutely sober, so +I gave them each a tepid peg.</p> + +<p>“Well <i>and</i> good,” said Carnehan of the eyebrows, +wiping the froth from his mustache. “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.”</p> + +<p>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. <i>Therefore</i>, we are going away to be Kings.”</p> + +<p>“Kings in our own right,” muttered Dravot.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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-<i>whack</i>. They +call it Kafiristan. By my reckoning its 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. It’s a mountainous country, and the women +of those parts are very beautiful.”</p> + +<p>“But that is provided against in the Contrack,” said +Carnehan. “Neither Women nor Liquor, Daniel.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 book-cases.</p> + +<p>“Are you at all in earnest?” I said.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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 +<i>Encyclopædia Britannica</i>, and the men consulted them.</p> + +<p>“See here!” said Dravot, his thumb on the map. +“Up to Jagdallak, Peachey and me know the road. We was there +with Roberts’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.”</p> + +<p>I handed him Wood on the <i>Sources of the Oxus</i>. Carnehan was deep +in the <i>Encyclopædia</i>.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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 <i>United +Services’ Institute</i>. Read what Bellew says.”</p> + +<p>“Blow Bellew!” said Carnehan. “Dan, +they’re an all-fired lot of heathens, but this book here says +they think they’re related to us English.”</p> + +<p>I smoked while the men pored over <i>Raverty, Wood</i>, the maps and +the <i>Encyclopædia</i>.</p> + +<p>“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-by to +you.”</p> + +<p>“You <i>are</i> 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.”</p> + +<p>“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 to govern +it.”</p> + +<p>“Would two lunatics make a Contrack like that!” said +Carnehan, with subdued pride, showing me a greasy half-sheet of +note-paper on which was written the following. I copied it, then +and there, as a curiosity:—</p> + +<p class="contract">This Contract between me and you persuing witnesseth in the name +of God — Amen and so forth.</p> +<p class="contract-clause">(One) That me and you will settle +this matter together: <span style="font-style:normal">i.e.</span>, to be Kings of Kafiristan.</p> +<p class="contract-clause">(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.</p> +<p class="contract-clause">(Three) That we conduct ourselves +with Dignity and Discretion, and if one of us gets into trouble the +other will stay by him.</p> +<p class="contract-clause">Signed by you and me this day.<br /> +Peachey Taliaferro Carnehan.<br /> +Daniel Dravot.<br /> +Both Gentlemen at Large.</p> + +<p>“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 <i>are</i> loafers, Dan, +until we get out of India — and <i>do</i> you think that we could sign +a Contrack like that unless we was in earnest? We have kept away +from the two things that make life worth having.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>I left them still poring over the maps and making notes on the +back of the “Contrack.” “Be sure to come down to +the Serai to-morrow,” were their parting words.</p> + +<p>The Kumharsen Serai is the great four-square 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 there to see whether my +friends intended to keep their word or were lying about drunk.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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 honor or have his head cut off. He came in here +this morning and has been behaving madly ever since.”</p> + +<p>“The witless are under the protection of God,” +stammered a flat-cheeked Usbeg in broken Hindi. “They +foretell future events.”</p> + +<p>“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 feloniously diverted into the +hands of other robbers just across the Border, and whose +misfortunes were the laughing-stock of the bazar. +“Ohé, priest, whence come you and whither do you +go?”</p> + +<p>“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 Kahn be upon his labors!” He spread out the +skirts of his gaberdine and pirouetted between the lines of +tethered horses.</p> + +<p>“There starts a caravan from Peshawar to Kabul in twenty +days, <i>Huzrut</i>,” said the Eusufzai trader. “My camels go +therewith. Do thou also go and bring us good luck.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>He leaped on the back of his beast as it knelt, and turning +round to me, cried:—</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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. +’Tisn’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 camel-bags and tell me what you +feel.”</p> + +<p>I felt the butt of a Martini, and another and another.</p> + +<p>“Twenty of ’em,” said Dravot, placidly.</p> + +<p>“Twenty of ’em, and ammunition to correspond, under +the whirligigs and the mud dolls.”</p> + +<p>“Heaven help you if you are caught with those +things!” I said. “A Martini is worth her weight in +silver among the Pathans.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Have you got everything you want?” I asked, +overcome with astonishment.</p> + +<p>“Not yet, but we shall soon. Give us a momento of your +kindness, <i>Brother</i>. 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.</p> + +<p>“Good-by,” said Dravot, giving me his 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.</p> + +<p>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 +attested 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.</p> + +<p>Ten days later a native friend of mine, 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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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!”</p> + +<p>I went back to the office, the man following with groans of +pain, and I turned up the lamp.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know you,” I said, handing him the +whiskey. “What can I do for you?”</p> + +<p>He took a gulp of the spirit raw, and shivered in spite of the +suffocating heat.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>I was more than a little astonished, and expressed my feelings +accordingly.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Take the whiskey,” 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?”</p> + +<p>“I ain’t mad — yet, but I will 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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“No, don’t look there. Look at <i>me</i>,” said +Carnehan.</p> + +<p>“That comes afterwards, 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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 sheep-skin 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.”</p> + +<p>“Take some more whiskey,” I said, very slowly. +“What did you and Daniel Dravot do when the camels could go +no further because of the rough roads that led into +Kafiristan?”</p> + +<p>“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 mountainous +parts, and never a road broader than the back of your +hand.”</p> + +<p>He paused for a moment, while I asked him if he could remember +the nature of the country through which he had journeyed.</p> + +<p>“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 mountainous +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.</p> + +<p>“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 we 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 around 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 respectful with his own nose, patting him on the head, and +saluting in front of it. He turns round to the men and nods his +head, and says, — ‘That’s all right. I’m in +the know too, and these old jim-jams 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 we 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.”</p> + +<p>“Take some more whiskey and go on,” I said. +“That was the first village you came into. How did you get to +be King?”</p> + +<p>“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 and 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 into 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 o’ 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.</p> + +<p>“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 mountainous. 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 manœuvre +about as well as Volunteers. So he marches with the Chief to a +great big plain on the top of a mountain, and the Chiefs 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.”</p> + +<p>At the risk of throwing the creature out of train I +interrupted, — “How could you write a letter up +yonder?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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 cypher 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 failed.</p> + +<p>“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 priest 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.</p> + +<p>“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.’</p> + +<p>“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 pound weight, like a hoop of +a barrel.</p> + +<p>“‘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 afterwards, 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 priest 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.’</p> + +<p>“‘It’s against all the law,’ I says, +‘holding a Lodge without warrant from any one; and we never +held office in any Lodge.’</p> + +<p>“‘It’s a master-stroke of policy,’ says +Dravot. ‘It means running the country as easy as a +four-wheeled bogy 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 the Lodge-room. The +women must make aprons as you show them. I’ll hold a levee of +Chiefs tonight and Lodge to-morrow.’</p> + +<p>“I was fair rim 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 officers’ chairs, and painted the black +pavement with white squares, and did what we could to make things +regular.</p> + +<p>“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 Past 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 was 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 Bazar-master when I was +at Mhow, and so on, and so on.</p> + +<p>“<i>The</i> most amazing miracle 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 a 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 clamoring to be raised.</p> + +<p>“‘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 fair 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 +<i>my</i> 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!’</p> + +<p>“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 to 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 him about, +and I just waited for orders.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“I stayed in Ghorband a month, and gave the Governor 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 +manloads 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.</p> + +<p>“‘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, Sergeant-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 ship-shape, 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, its big! It’s big, I tell you! +But there’s so much to be done in every place — Bashkai, +Khawak, Shu, and everywhere else.’</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“‘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.</p> + +<p>“‘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, and it was as red as the gold of his +crown.</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“‘For Gord’s sake leave the women +alone!’ I says. ‘We’ve both got all the work we +can, though I <i>am</i> a fool. Remember the Contrack, and keep clear +o’ women.’</p> + +<p>“‘The Contrack 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 as +fair as chicken and ham.’</p> + +<p>“‘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 o’ +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; but no +women.’</p> + +<p>“‘Who’s talking o’ <i>women</i>?’ says +Dravot. ‘I said <i>wife</i> — 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.’</p> + +<p>“‘Do you remember that Bengali woman I kept at Mogul +Serai when I was 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 of +the running-shed!’</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“‘For the last time o’ asking, Dan, do +<i>not</i>,’ 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.’</p> + +<p>“‘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 low sun hit his crown and beard on one side, and +the two blazed like hot coals.</p> + +<p>“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?’ 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.’</p> + +<p>“‘The marriage of a 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.</p> + +<p>“‘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 know everything? How can +daughters of men marry gods or devils? It’s not +proper.’</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“‘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 a girl +crying fit to die. One of the priests told us that she was being +prepared to marry the King.</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“‘Hearten her very tender, then,’ says Dravot, +‘or I’ll hearten you with the butt of a gun so that +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.</p> + +<p>“‘What is up, Fish?’ I says to the Bashkai +man, who was wrapped up in his furs and looking splendid to +behold.</p> + +<p>“‘I can’t rightly say,’ says he; +‘but if you can induce the King to drop all this nonsense +about marriage, you’ll be doing him and me and yourself a +great service.’</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“‘For the last time, drop it, Dan,’ says I in +a whisper. ‘Billy Fish here says that there will be a +row.’</p> + +<p>“‘A row among my people!’ says Dravot. +‘Not much. Peachy, 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.’</p> + +<p>“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 deputation of priests went down to the little +temple to bring up the girl, and the horns blew up 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.</p> + +<p>“‘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.</p> + +<p>“‘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.</p> + +<p>“‘God A-mighty!’ says Dan. ‘What is the +meaning o’ this?’</p> + +<p>“‘Come back! Come away!’ says Billy Fish. +‘Ruin and Mutiny is the matter. We’ll break for Bashkai +if we can.’</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“‘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’s protestations. He was swearing +horribly 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.</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“‘All right, Dan,’ says I; ‘but come +along now while there’s time.’</p> + +<p>“‘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.</p> + +<p>“‘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.’</p> + +<p>“‘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!’</p> + +<p>“‘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.</p> + +<p>“‘There’s no hope o’ getting +clear,’ said Billy Fish. ‘The priests will 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.</p> + +<p>“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-wise as if they wanted to +ask something, but they said never 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!</p> + +<p>“‘The runners have been very quick,’ says +Billy Fish, with a little bit of a laugh. ‘They are waiting +for us.’</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“‘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!’</p> + +<p>“‘Go!’ says I. ‘Go to Hell, Dan. +I’m with you here. Billy Fish, you clear out, and we two will +meet those folk.’</p> + +<p>“‘I’m a Chief,’ says Billy Fish, quite +quiet. ‘I stay with you. My men can go.’</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>The punkah-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?”</p> + +<p>The momentary shift of my eyes had broken the clear current.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“But do you know what they did to Peachey between two +pine-trees? They crucified him, sir, as Peachey’s hands will +show. They used wooden pegs for his hands and his feet; and 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…”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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 knew Dravot, +sir! You knew Right Worshipful Brother Dravot! Look at him +now!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“You behold now,” said Carnehan, “the Emperor +in his habit as he lived — the King of Kafiristan with his +crown upon his head. Poor old Daniel that was a monarch +once!”</p> + +<p>I shuddered, for, in spite of defacements manifold, I recognized +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 whiskey, 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 Poor-house 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.”</p> + +<p>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:—</p> + +<p class="song">“The Son of Man goes forth to war,<br /> +A golden crown to gain;</p> +<p class="song">His blood-red banner streams afar—<br /> +Who follows in his train?”</p> + +<p>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 recognize, and I left him +singing to the missionary.</p> + +<p>Two days later I inquired after his welfare of the +Superintendent of the Asylum.</p> + +<p>“He was admitted suffering from sun-stroke. He died early +yesterday morning,” said the Superintendent. “Is it +true that he was half an hour bareheaded in the sun at +midday?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said I, “but do you happen to know if +he had anything upon him by any chance when he died?”</p> + +<p>“Not to my knowledge,” said the Superintendent.</p> + +<p>And there the matter rests.</p> + +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Man Who Would Be King, by Rudyard Kipling + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING *** + +This file should be named 8king10h.htm or 8king10h.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 8king11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8king10ah.htm + +Produced by Jeffrey Kraus-yao. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Man Who Would Be King + +Author: Rudyard Kipling + +Release Date: May, 2005 [EBook #8147] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on June 20, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING *** + + + + +Produced by Jeffrey Kraus-yao. + + + + +The Man Who +Would be King + + By + + Rudyard Kipling + + + + +Published by Brentano’s at +31 Union Square New York + + THE MAN WHO WOULD + BE KING + +“Brother to a Prince and fellow to a beggar if he +be found worthy.” + +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 and 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 patronize +refreshment-rooms. They carry their food +in bundles and pots, and buy sweets from the +native sweetmeat-sellers, and drink the roadside +water. That is why in the 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 a +huge 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 whiskey. 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 million,” 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 underside 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, which is 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 are 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 telegram 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 23d for Bombay. That means +he’ll be running through Ajmir about the +night of the 23d.” + +“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? ’Twon’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 compartment. +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 ask 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. Native States +were created by Providence in order to supply +picturesque scenery, tigers and tall-writing. +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 a flapjack, and +drank the running water, and slept under +the same rug as my servant. It was all in a +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 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 is 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 impudence. 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 +“stuck up” 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 except 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 commands 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 punkah-pulling machines, +carriage couplings and unbreakable +swords and axle-trees 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 clamor to have the glories +of their last dance more fully expounded; +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 copy-boys are whining, +“kaa-pi chayha-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 other six months wherein 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 +of 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 as 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° to almost 84° for +almost half an hour, and in that chill—you +have no idea how cold is 84° on the grass +until you begin to pray for it—a very tired +man could set 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, was 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 see 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 the 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 favor, because you did us a bad +turn about Degumber.” + +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 to you 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.” +I watched the test. The men were absolutely +sober, so I gave them each a tepid +peg. + +“Well and good,” said Carnehan of the +eyebrows, wiping the froth from his mustache. +“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 its 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. It’s a mountainous +country, and the women of those +parts are very beautiful.” + +“But that is provided against in the Contrack,” +said Carnehan. “Neither Women +nor Liquor, 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 +book-cases. + +“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 Encyclopædia 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 +Roberts’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 Encyclopædia. + +“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 an all-fired lot of heathens, but this +book here says they think they’re related to +us English.” + +I smoked while the men pored over +Raverty, Wood, the maps and the Encyclopædia. + +“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-by 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 to govern it.” + +“Would two lunatics make a Contrack +like that!” said Carnehan, with subdued +pride, showing me a greasy half-sheet of note-paper +on which was written the following. +I copied it, then and there, as a curiosity:— + +This Contract between me and you persuing 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 could 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 “Contrack.” +“Be sure to come down to the Serai to-morrow,” +were their parting words. + +The Kumharsen Serai is the great four-square +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 +there to see whether my friends intended to +keep their word or were lying about 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 +honor 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 +feloniously diverted into the hands of other +robbers just across the Border, and whose +misfortunes were the laughing-stock of the +bazar. “Ohé, 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 +Kahn be upon his labors!” He spread out +the skirts of his gaberdine 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. ’Tisn’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 camel-bags +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-by,” said Dravot, giving me his +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 attested 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 friend of mine, +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 whiskey. “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 whiskey,” 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 will 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 afterwards, 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 sheep-skin 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 whiskey,” I said, very +slowly. “What did you and Daniel Dravot +do when the camels could go no further 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 mountainous +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 +mountainous 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 we 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 around 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 respectful with his own nose, patting +him on the head, and saluting in front of it. +He turns round to the men and nods his +head, and says,—‘That’s all right. I’m in +the know too, and these old jim-jams 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 we 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 whiskey 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 and 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 into 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 o’ 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 mountainous. 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 manœuvre about as well as +Volunteers. So he marches with the Chief +to a great big plain on the top of a mountain, +and the Chiefs 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 cypher 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 failed. + +“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 priest 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 pound 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 afterwards, 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 priest 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 we never held office in any Lodge.’ + +“‘It’s a master-stroke of policy,’ says +Dravot. ‘It means running the country as +easy as a four-wheeled bogy 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 the Lodge-room. The women +must make aprons as you show them. I’ll +hold a levee of Chiefs tonight and Lodge to-morrow.’ + +“I was fair rim 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 officers’ +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 Past 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 was 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 Bazar-master when I was +at Mhow, and so on, and so on. + +“The most amazing miracle 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 a 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 +clamoring 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 +fair 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 +to 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 him 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 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 manloads 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, Sergeant-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 ship-shape, +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, its 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, and it was as red as 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 +Contrack, and keep clear o’ women.’ + +“‘The Contrack 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 as fair as 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 o’ 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; but 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 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 of the running-shed!’ + +“‘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 +low sun hit his crown and beard on one side, +and the two blazed like hot coals. + +“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?’ 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 a 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 know 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 a 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 that 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 says 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 induce the King to 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. Peachy, 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 deputation of priests went +down to the little temple to bring up the +girl, and the horns blew up 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’s protestations. He was +swearing horribly 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 will 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-wise as if +they wanted to ask something, but they said +never 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 punkah-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 hands will +show. They used wooden pegs for his hands +and his feet; and 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 knew 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 behold now,” said Carnehan, “the +Emperor in his habit 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 recognized 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 whiskey, +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 Poor-house +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 recognize, and I left him singing to +the missionary. + +Two days later I inquired after his welfare +of the Superintendent of the Asylum. + +“He was admitted suffering from sun-stroke. +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. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Man Who Would Be King, by Rudyard Kipling + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING *** + +This file should be named 8king10u.txt or 8king10u.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 8king11u.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8king10au.txt + +Produced by Jeffrey Kraus-yao. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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