Gunga Dass explained that horse was
better than crow, and "greatest good of greatest number is political
maxim.
better than crow, and "greatest good of greatest number is political
maxim.
Kipling - Poems
Moreover, when the boat
returns, you will most certainly be rifled at. " He stood over me in the
dim light of the dawn, chuckling and laughing to himself. Suppressing
my first impulse to catch the man by the neck and throw him on to the
quicksand, I rose sullenly and followed him to the platform below the
burrows.
Suddenly, and futilely as I thought while I spoke, I asked--"Gunga Dass,
what is the good of the boat if I can't get out anyhow? " I recollect
that even in my deepest trouble I had been speculating vaguely on the
waste of ammunition in guarding an already well protected foreshore.
Gunga Dass laughed again and made answer:--"They have the boat only in
daytime. It is for the reason that there is a way. I hope we shall have
the pleasure of your company for much longer time. It is a pleasant spot
when you have been here some years and eaten roast crow long enough. "
I staggered, numbed and helpless, toward the fetid burrow allotted to
me, and fell asleep. An hour or so later I was awakened by a piercing
scream--the shrill, high-pitched scream of a horse in pain. Those who
have once heard that will never forget the sound. I found some little
difficulty in scrambling out of the burrow. When I was in the open, I
saw Pornic, my poor old Pornic, lying dead on the sandy soil. How they
had killed him I cannot guess.
Gunga Dass explained that horse was
better than crow, and "greatest good of greatest number is political
maxim. We are now Republic, Mister Jukes, and you are entitled to a fair
share of the beast. If you like, we will pass a vote of thanks. Shall I
propose? "
Yes, we were a Republic indeed! A Republic of wild beasts penned at the
bottom of a pit, to eat and fight and sleep till we died. I attempted
no protest of any kind, but sat down and stared at the hideous sight
in front of me. In less time almost than it takes me to write this,
Pornic's body was divided, in some unclear way or other; the men and
women had dragged the fragments on to the platform and were preparing
their normal meal. Gunga Dass cooked mine. The almost irresistible
impulse to fly at the sand walls until I was wearied laid hold of me
afresh, and I had to struggle against it with all my might. Gunga Dass
was offensively jocular till I told him that if he addressed another
remark of any kind whatever to me I should strangle him where he sat.
This silenced him till silence became insupportable, and I bade him say
something.
"You will live here till you die like the other Feringhi," he said,
coolly, watching me over the fragment of gristle that he was gnawing.
"What other Sahib, you swine? Speak at once, and don't stop to tell me a
lie. "
"He is over there," answered Gunga Dass, pointing to a burrow-mouth
about four doors ta the left of my own.
returns, you will most certainly be rifled at. " He stood over me in the
dim light of the dawn, chuckling and laughing to himself. Suppressing
my first impulse to catch the man by the neck and throw him on to the
quicksand, I rose sullenly and followed him to the platform below the
burrows.
Suddenly, and futilely as I thought while I spoke, I asked--"Gunga Dass,
what is the good of the boat if I can't get out anyhow? " I recollect
that even in my deepest trouble I had been speculating vaguely on the
waste of ammunition in guarding an already well protected foreshore.
Gunga Dass laughed again and made answer:--"They have the boat only in
daytime. It is for the reason that there is a way. I hope we shall have
the pleasure of your company for much longer time. It is a pleasant spot
when you have been here some years and eaten roast crow long enough. "
I staggered, numbed and helpless, toward the fetid burrow allotted to
me, and fell asleep. An hour or so later I was awakened by a piercing
scream--the shrill, high-pitched scream of a horse in pain. Those who
have once heard that will never forget the sound. I found some little
difficulty in scrambling out of the burrow. When I was in the open, I
saw Pornic, my poor old Pornic, lying dead on the sandy soil. How they
had killed him I cannot guess.
Gunga Dass explained that horse was
better than crow, and "greatest good of greatest number is political
maxim. We are now Republic, Mister Jukes, and you are entitled to a fair
share of the beast. If you like, we will pass a vote of thanks. Shall I
propose? "
Yes, we were a Republic indeed! A Republic of wild beasts penned at the
bottom of a pit, to eat and fight and sleep till we died. I attempted
no protest of any kind, but sat down and stared at the hideous sight
in front of me. In less time almost than it takes me to write this,
Pornic's body was divided, in some unclear way or other; the men and
women had dragged the fragments on to the platform and were preparing
their normal meal. Gunga Dass cooked mine. The almost irresistible
impulse to fly at the sand walls until I was wearied laid hold of me
afresh, and I had to struggle against it with all my might. Gunga Dass
was offensively jocular till I told him that if he addressed another
remark of any kind whatever to me I should strangle him where he sat.
This silenced him till silence became insupportable, and I bade him say
something.
"You will live here till you die like the other Feringhi," he said,
coolly, watching me over the fragment of gristle that he was gnawing.
"What other Sahib, you swine? Speak at once, and don't stop to tell me a
lie. "
"He is over there," answered Gunga Dass, pointing to a burrow-mouth
about four doors ta the left of my own.
