wet on my sabre." "Be content," said he. "There is great work forward. When this madness is over there is a recompense."
'Ay, there is a recompense when the madness is over, surely?' the lama muttered half to himself.
'They did not give medals in those days to all who by accident had heard a gun fired. No! In nineteen pitched battles was I; in six and forty skirmishes of horse; and in small affairs without number. Nine wounds I bear; a medal and four clasps and the medal of an Order, for my captains, who are now generals, remembered me when the Kaiser-i-Hind had accomplished fifty years of her reign, and all the land rejoiced. They said: "Give him the order of Berittish India." I carry it upon my neck now. I have also my jaghir (holding) from the hands of the State—a free gift to me and mine. The men of the old days—they are now Commissioners—come riding to me through the crops,—high upon horses so that all the village sees, and we talk out the old skirmishes, one dead man's name leading to another.'
'And after?' said the lama.
'Oh, afterward they go away, but not before my village has seen.'
'And at the last what wilt thou do?'
'At the last I shall die.'
'And after?'
'Let the gods order it. I have never pestered them with prayers: I do not think they will pester me. Look you, I have noticed in my long life that those who eternally break in upon those above with complaints and reports and bellowings and weepings are presently sent for in haste, as our colonel used to send for slack-jawed down-country men who talked too much. No, I have never wearied the gods. They will remember this, and give me a quiet
