the innocent and helpless had at length fallen a prey to the grim tyrant of the forest, doubtless while he slept in fancied security, with his bridle-rein in his hand; and of the once terrific Cheetoo, who had spread ruin and devastation through many a happy homestead and smiling village, nothing now remained but a few rags clotted with blood, some crunched bones, and the head entire, a fearful memento of the last of the Pindarries!
"There now remains," says Sir John Malcolm,[1] "not a spot in India that a Pindarrie can call his home. They have been hunted like wild beasts; numbers have been killed; all ruined. Those who espoused their cause have fallen. They were early in the contest shunned like a contagion; and even the timid villagers, whom they so recently oppressed, were among the foremost to attack them. Their principal leaders had either died, submitted, or been made captives; while their followers, with the exception of a few whom the liberality and consideration of the British Government have aided to become industrious, are lost in that population from whose dross they originally issued. A minute investigation only can discover these once formidable disturbers, concealed as they now are among the lowest classes, where they are making some amends for past atrocities by the benefit which is derived from their labour in restoring trade and cultivation. These freebooters had none of the prejudices of caste, for they belonged to all tribes. They never had either the pride of soldiers, of family, or of country, so that they were bound by none of those ties which among many of the communities in India assume an almost indestructible character. Other plunderers may arise from distempered times, but as a body the Pindarries are so effectually destroyed that their name is already forgotten, though not five years are passed since it spread terror and dismay all over India."
- ↑ "Memoir of Central India."
