He
had stepped out of his place; he had not appeared at his office at the
proper time, and his dog-cart was not upon the public roads.
had stepped out of his place; he had not appeared at his office at the
proper time, and his dog-cart was not upon the public roads.
Kipling - Poems
This is the nature that God has given him.
Moreover,
he has brethren"--
The state groaned unanimously.
"But if his brethren come they will surely fight with each other till
they die; or else the one will always give information concerning the
other. Shall he be of thy army, oh, king? Choose! "
The king bowed his head, and I said:
"Come forth, Namgay Doola, and command the king's army. Thy name shall
no more be Namgay in the mouths of men, but Patsay Doola, for, as thou
hast truly said, I know. "
Then Namgay Doola, never christened Patsay Doola, son of Timlay
Doola--which is Tim Doolan--clasped the king's feet, cuffed the standing
army, and hurried in an agony of contrition from temple to temple making
offerings for the sin of the cattle--maiming.
And the king was so pleased with my perspicacity that he offered to
sell me a village for 20 pounds sterling. But I buy no village in
the Himalayas so long as one red head flares between the tail of the
heaven-climbing glacier and the dark birch forest.
I know that breed.
THE RECRUDESCENCE OF IMRAY
Imray had achieved the impossible. Without warning, for no conceivable
motive, in his youth and at the threshold of his career he had chosen
to disappear from the world--which is to say, the little Indian station
where he lived. Upon a day he was alive, well, happy, and in great
evidence at his club, among the billiard-tables. Upon a morning he was
not, and no manner of search could make sure where he might be.
He
had stepped out of his place; he had not appeared at his office at the
proper time, and his dog-cart was not upon the public roads. For these
reasons and because he was hampering in a microscopical degree the
administration of the Indian Empire, the Indian Empire paused for one
microscopical moment to make inquiry into the fate of Imray. Ponds were
dragged, wells were plumbed, telegrams were dispatched down the lines
of railways and to the nearest seaport town--1,200 miles away--but Imray
was not at the end of the drag-ropes nor the telegrams. He was gone,
and his place knew him no more. Then the work of the great Indian Empire
swept forward, because it could not be delayed, and Imray, from being a
man, became a mystery--such a thing as men talk over at their tables
in the club for a month and then forget utterly. His guns, horses, and
carts were sold to the highest bidder. His superior officer wrote
an absurd letter to his mother, saying that Imray had unaccountably
disappeared and his bungalow stood empty on the road.
After three or four months of the scorching hot weather had gone by,
my friend Strickland, of the police force, saw fit to rent the bungalow
from the native landlord. This was before he was engaged to Miss
Youghal--an affair which has been described in another place--and while
he was pursuing his investigations into native life. His own life was
sufficiently peculiar, and men complained of his manners and customs.
There was always food in his house, but there were no regular times for
meals. He ate, standing up and walking about, whatever he might find on
the sideboard, and this is not good for the insides of human beings.
His domestic equipment was limited to six rifles, three shotguns, five
saddles, and a collection of stiff-jointed masheer rods, bigger and
stronger than the largest salmon rods. These things occupied one half of
his bungalow, and the other half was given up to Strickland and his dog
Tietjens--an enormous Rampur slut, who sung when she was ordered, and
devoured daily the rations of two men. She spoke to Strickland in a
language of her own, and whenever, in her walks abroad she saw things
calculated to destroy the peace of Her Majesty the Queen Empress, she
returned to her master and gave him information. Strickland would
take steps at once, and the end of his labors was trouble and fine and
imprisonment for other people.
he has brethren"--
The state groaned unanimously.
"But if his brethren come they will surely fight with each other till
they die; or else the one will always give information concerning the
other. Shall he be of thy army, oh, king? Choose! "
The king bowed his head, and I said:
"Come forth, Namgay Doola, and command the king's army. Thy name shall
no more be Namgay in the mouths of men, but Patsay Doola, for, as thou
hast truly said, I know. "
Then Namgay Doola, never christened Patsay Doola, son of Timlay
Doola--which is Tim Doolan--clasped the king's feet, cuffed the standing
army, and hurried in an agony of contrition from temple to temple making
offerings for the sin of the cattle--maiming.
And the king was so pleased with my perspicacity that he offered to
sell me a village for 20 pounds sterling. But I buy no village in
the Himalayas so long as one red head flares between the tail of the
heaven-climbing glacier and the dark birch forest.
I know that breed.
THE RECRUDESCENCE OF IMRAY
Imray had achieved the impossible. Without warning, for no conceivable
motive, in his youth and at the threshold of his career he had chosen
to disappear from the world--which is to say, the little Indian station
where he lived. Upon a day he was alive, well, happy, and in great
evidence at his club, among the billiard-tables. Upon a morning he was
not, and no manner of search could make sure where he might be.
He
had stepped out of his place; he had not appeared at his office at the
proper time, and his dog-cart was not upon the public roads. For these
reasons and because he was hampering in a microscopical degree the
administration of the Indian Empire, the Indian Empire paused for one
microscopical moment to make inquiry into the fate of Imray. Ponds were
dragged, wells were plumbed, telegrams were dispatched down the lines
of railways and to the nearest seaport town--1,200 miles away--but Imray
was not at the end of the drag-ropes nor the telegrams. He was gone,
and his place knew him no more. Then the work of the great Indian Empire
swept forward, because it could not be delayed, and Imray, from being a
man, became a mystery--such a thing as men talk over at their tables
in the club for a month and then forget utterly. His guns, horses, and
carts were sold to the highest bidder. His superior officer wrote
an absurd letter to his mother, saying that Imray had unaccountably
disappeared and his bungalow stood empty on the road.
After three or four months of the scorching hot weather had gone by,
my friend Strickland, of the police force, saw fit to rent the bungalow
from the native landlord. This was before he was engaged to Miss
Youghal--an affair which has been described in another place--and while
he was pursuing his investigations into native life. His own life was
sufficiently peculiar, and men complained of his manners and customs.
There was always food in his house, but there were no regular times for
meals. He ate, standing up and walking about, whatever he might find on
the sideboard, and this is not good for the insides of human beings.
His domestic equipment was limited to six rifles, three shotguns, five
saddles, and a collection of stiff-jointed masheer rods, bigger and
stronger than the largest salmon rods. These things occupied one half of
his bungalow, and the other half was given up to Strickland and his dog
Tietjens--an enormous Rampur slut, who sung when she was ordered, and
devoured daily the rations of two men. She spoke to Strickland in a
language of her own, and whenever, in her walks abroad she saw things
calculated to destroy the peace of Her Majesty the Queen Empress, she
returned to her master and gave him information. Strickland would
take steps at once, and the end of his labors was trouble and fine and
imprisonment for other people.
