There are snakes in that basket--cobras, sahib! Ow-
ow-ow!"
Warrington, swaying precariously over the edge, held tight by the
loin-cloth, depending on it as a yacht in a tideway would to three
hundred pounds of iron.
"Oh, cobras are so veree dreadful creatures!" wailed the babu,
caressing his waist again. "Look, sahib! Look! Oh, look! Between
devil and over-sea what should a man do? Ow!"
The carriage lurched at a mud-puddle. The babu's weight lurched with
it, and Warrington's center of gravity shifted. The babu seemed to
shrug himself away from the snakes, but the effect was to shove
Warrington the odd half-inch it needed to put him overside. He clung
to the loin-cloth and pulled hard to haul himself back again, and the
loin-cloth came away.
"Halt!" yelled Warrington; and the risaldar reined in.
But the horses took fright and plunged forward, though the risaldar
swore afterward that the babu did nothing to them; he supposed it
must have been the fakir squatting in the shadows that scared them.
And whatever it may have been--snakes or not--that had scared the
babu, it had scared all his helplessness away. Naked from shirt to
socks, he rolled like a big ball backward over the carriage top, fell
to earth behind the carriage, bumped into Warrington, who was
struggling to his feet, knocking him down again, and departed for the
temple shadows, screaming.
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