ENTH

The Spoilers Spoiled

"Give the word, you heathen son of a washer-woman," said a rough English
voice, the owner of which had his hands on Ahmed's throat. "Give the
word; jaldi karo."

"What have you got there, Tom?" said another voice.

"Blowed if it ain't a Pandy or some other drowned rat by the feel of
him. What do you mean, you suar ka bachcha, by treading on the toes of a
British rifleman? Hilo mat, you bloomin' reptile, or I'll stick my
bay'net in your gala."

"Take me to Hodson Sahib," said Ahmed in halting English, as soon as he
got his breath.

"Hodson Sahib be jiggered! We ain't khaki, as you might see with your
cat's eyes; we're green, we are. You've come to the wrong shop for those
everlasting Guides, if that's what you want. You've got gentlemen of the
60th Royal Rifles to deal with, let me tell you. He ain't got no rifle,
mates, so there ain't no harm in him. What are you a-doing of here, and
what was that there noise we heard just now?"

"Take me to Hodson Sahib," Ahmed repeated.

"Perhaps he's one of Hodson's spies, Tom," said a third man. "Better
send him along to the Colonel."

"We can't send him, not having no conveniences for such. He'll just have
to wait until we're relieved."

"But s'pose he's got news of an attack? There'd be a bit of a dust-up if
the General didn't get warning in time."

"And there'd be another dust-up if an inspection-officer come along and
found me absent from my juty. Rum thing, juty, you nigger; and the
sooner you learn it the better. My juty says one thing, your juty,--if
so be you _are_ one of Hodson's spies--says another. If two juties pulls
in hopposite directions, the thing that wants doing don't get done, and
the consekinces is accordin'."

"Y' ought to bin a parson, Tom. Blest if ever I knowed such a chap for
argyfying."

"Argyfy! I never do it. I only talk sense. That's what my mother used to
say to the old man when they was talkin' over some little bit o'
difference between 'em. 'Woman,' says he, 'your argyment's ridik'lous.
Women ain't got no power of reasonin'.' 'And a good thing for you,
Jimmy,' say she. 'Women ha' got sense.' And then they'd begin over
again, and me eatin' bread and butter listenin' to 'em. 'The amount o'
rubbidge that there poor boy do have to listen to from one as ought to
bring him up proper!' says my father. 'True,' says she, 'and if he
didn't take after me 'twould turn his little stomick, poor lamb!' And
then he'd ar