"I am not a constabeel; I
am a soldier."
"Aha! Yes. You better hurry. All your men are underneath--what-you-
call-it?--bottom dog. You better hurry like slippery! One Afridi is
beginning things, and where is one Afridi with a long knife are many
more kinds of trouble!"
The babu was recovering his breath, and with it his yearning to
behold a regiment careering through the barrack gate to the rescue.
He still clung to the stirrup, and since he would not let go, Ranjoor
Singh proceeded to tow him, with a cautious, booted right leg ready
to spur Bagh away to the left should the brute commence to kick.
"You are hard-hearted person, and your fate is forever sealed if you
refuse to listen!" wailed the babu. "The blood of your men lies in
street calling aloud for vengeance!" A university education works
wonders for babu vocabulary. "I tell you it is a riot, and most
extremelee serious affair!"
That was the wrong appeal to make, as the babu himself would have
known had he been less excited. In time of riot the place for a Sikh
officer would be at the regiment's headquarters, in readiness for the
order from a civil magistrate without which interference would cost
him his commission. But the babu was beside himself, what with
breathlessness and disappointment. He decided it was expedient to
strengthen his appeal, and his imagination was still working.
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