No More Learning

Then all the people comes
down and shouts like the devil and all, and Dravot says, 'Go and dig the
land, and be fruitful and multiply,' which they did, though they didn't
understand. Then we asks the names of things in their lingo--bread and
water and fire and idols and such; and Dravot leads the priest of each
village up to the idol, and says he must sit there and judge the people,
and if anything goes wrong he is to be shot.

"Next week they was all turning up the land in the valley as quiet as
bees and much prettier, and the priests heard all the complaints and
told Dravot in dumb-show what it was about. 'That's just the beginning,'
says Dravot. 'They think we're Gods. ' He and Carnehan picks out twenty
good men and shows them how to click off a rifle and form fours and
advance in line; and they was very pleased to do so, and clever to see
the hang of it. Then he takes out his pipe and his baccy-pouch, and
leaves one at one village and one at the other, and off we two goes to
see what was to be done in the next valley. That was all rock, and there
was a little village there, and Carnehan says, 'Send 'em to the old
valley to plant,' and takes 'em there and gives 'em some land that
wasn't took before. They were a poor lot, and we blooded 'em with a kid
before letting 'em into the new Kingdom. That was to impress the people,
and then they settled down quiet, and Carnehan went back to Dravot, who
had got into another valley, all snow and ice and most mountaineous.

"There was no people there, and the Army got afraid; so Dravot shoots
one of them, and goes on till he finds some people in a village, and the
Army explains that unless the people wants to be killed they had better
not shoot their little matchlocks, for they had matchlocks. We makes
friends with the priest, and I stays there alone with two of the Army,
teaching the men how to drill; and a thundering big Chief comes across
the snow with kettledrums and horns twanging, because he heard there was
a new God kicking about. Carnehan sights for the brown of the men half
a mile across the snow and wings one of them. Then he sends a message
to the Chief that, unless he wished to be killed, he must come and shake
hands with me and leave his arms behind. The Chief comes alone first,
and Carnehan shakes hands with him and whirls his arms about, same as
Dravot used, and very much surprised that Chief was, and strokes
my eyebrows.
Then Carnehan goes alone to the Chief, and asks him in
dumb-show if he had an enemy he hated. 'I have,' says the chief. So
Carnehan weeds out the pick of his men, and sets the two of the Army to
show them drill, and at the end of two weeks the men can manoeuvre about
as well as Volunteers. So he marches with the Chief to a great big plain
on the top of a mountain, and the Chief's men rushes into a village and
takes it, we three Martinis firing into the brown of the enemy. So we
took that village too, and I gives the Chief a rag from my coat, and
says, 'Occupy till I come;' which was scriptural. By way of a reminder,
when me and the Army was eighteen hundred yards away, I drops a bullet
near him standing on the snow, and all the people falls flat on their
faces. Then I sends a letter to Dravot wherever he be by land or by
sea. "

At the risk of throwing the creature out of train I interrupted: "How
could you write a letter up yonder? "

"The letter? --oh! --the letter! Keep looking at me between the eyes,
please. It was a string-talk letter, that we'd learned the way of it
from a blind beggar in the Punjab. "

I remember that there had once come to the office a blind man with
a knotted twig, and a piece of string which he wound round the twig
according to some cipher of his own. He could, after the lapse of days
or hours, repeat the sentence which he had reeled up.

He had reduced the alphabet to eleven primitive sounds, and tried to
teach me his method, but I could not understand.