Driftwood Spars | Page 9

upon his face, and fell, seeming to be about to die.
"Making a little chukker[32] round, my brother drove the camel
between Suleiman and the tent and made it kneel.
[32] Circuit, course.
"'Salaam aleikoum,[33] Mir Saheb,' said Suleiman, and my brother
replied:--
[33] A Mussulman greeting.
"'Salaam. Tend thou my camel and prepare food for me, and my
brother, and my servant. And if thou wouldst not hang in a pig's skin,
be wise and wary, and keep eyes, ears, and mouth closed.' And we
drank water.
"Then, treading softly, we went to the tent where Ibrahim Mahmud
slept and sat us down where we could look upon his face. There he
slept, Sahib, peacefully, like a little child!--having left Mir Jan to die
the death 'whereof men should speak with awe,' as he had threatened.
"We sat beside him and watched. Saying nothing, we sat and watched.
An hour passed and an hour again. For another hour without moving or
speaking we sat and Moussa Isa joined us and watched.
"'Twas sweet, and I licked my lips and hoped he might not wake for
hours, although I hungered. The actual revenge is very, very sweet,
Sahib, but does it exceed the joy of watching the enemy as he lies
wholly at your mercy, lies in the hollow of your hand and is your poor
foolish plaything,--knave made fool at last? Like statues we sat,
moving not our eyes from his face, and we were very happy.

"Then, suddenly, he awoke and his eyes fell on my brother--and he
shrieked aloud, as the hare shrieks when hound or jackal seize her; as
the woman shrieks when the door goes down before the raiders and the
thatch goes up in flame.
"Thus he shrieked.
"We moved not.
"'Why cryest thou, dear brother?' asked Mir Jan in a soft, sweet voice.
"'I--I--thought thou wast a spirit, come to--' he faltered, and my brother
answered:--
"'And why should I be a spirit, my brother? Am I not young and
strong?'
"'I dreamed,' quavered Ibrahim.
"'I too have had a dream,' said my brother.
"''Twas but a dream, Mir Jan. I will arise and prepare some--' replied
Ibrahim, affecting ease of manner but poorly, for he had no real nerve.
"'Thou wilt not arise yet, Ibrahim Mahmud,' murmured my brother
gently.
"'Why?'
"'Because thine eyes are somewhat wearied and I purpose to wash them
with my magic water,' and as he held up the blue bottle with the red
label Ibrahim screamed like a girl and flung himself forward at my
brother's feet, shrieking and praying for mercy:--
"'No, No!' he howled; 'not that! Mercy, O kingly son of Kings! I will
give thee--"
"'Nay, my brother,--what is this?' asked Mir Jan softly, with kind
caressing voice. 'What is all this? I do but propose to bathe thine eyes

with this same magic water wherewith I bathed mine own, the day
before yesterday. Thou didst see me do it--thou didst watch me do it.'
"'Mercy--most noble Mir! Have pity, 'twas not I. Mercy!' he screamed.
"'But, Ibrahim, dear brother' expostulated Mir Jan, 'why this objection
to my magic water? It gave me great relief and my eyes were quickly
healed. Thine own need care--for see--water gushes from them even
now.'
"The dog howled--like a dog--and offered lakhs of rupees.
"'But surely, my brother, what gave me relief will give thee relief?
Thou knowest how my eyes were soothed and healed, and that it is a
potent charm, and surely it is not changed?' Mir Jan Rah-bin-Ras
el-Isan was all Pathan then, Sahib, whatever he may have been at other
times. I could not have played more skilfully with the dog myself.
"At last, turning to Moussa Isa he said:--
"'Our brother seemeth distraught, and perchance will do himself some
injury if he be not tended with care and watched over. Bind him, to
make sure that he hurt not himself in this strange madness that hath
o'ertaken him, making him fancy harm even in this healing balm. Bind
him tightly.' And at that, the treacherous, murderous dog found his
manhood for a moment and made to spring to his feet and fight, but as
he tried to rise, Moussa Isa kicked him in the face and fell upon him.
"'Shall I serve thee as I served thy Hubshi hireling, thy Sidi slave?' he
grunted and showed his sharp strong teeth.
"'Perchance 'twould cure him of his madness if we bled the poor soul a
little,' cooed my brother, putting his hand to his cummerbund where
was his long Afghan knife, and Ibrahim Mahmud lay still. Picking up
his big, green turban from beside his rug, I bound his arms to his sides
and then, going forth, got baggage-cords from the oont-wallah and
likewise his puggri,