No More Learning

We
didn't raise more than ten of the biggest men, because we didn't want to
make the Degree common. And they was clamouring to be raised.

"'In another six months,' says Dravot, 'we'll hold another Communication
and see how you are working. ' Then he asks them about their villages,
and learns that they was fighting one against the other, and were sick
and tired of it. And when they wasn't doing that they was fighting with
the Mohammedans. 'You can fight those when they come into our country,'
says Dravot. 'Tell off every tenth man of your tribes for a Frontier
guard, and send two hundred at a time to this valley to be drilled.
Nobody is going to be shot or speared any more so long as he does well,
and I know that you won't cheat me, because you're white people--sons
of Alexander--and not like common black Mohammedans. You are my people,
and, by God,' says he, running off into English at the end, 'I'll make a
damned fine Nation of you, or I'll die in the making! '

"I can't tell all we did for the next six months, because Dravot did a
lot I couldn't see the hang of, and he learned their lingo in a way I
never could. My work was to help the people plough, and now and again
go out with some of the Army and see what the other villages were doing,
and make 'em throw rope bridges across the ravines which cut up the
country horrid. Dravot was very kind to me, but when he walked up and
down in the pine wood pulling that bloody red beard of his with both
fists I knew he was thinking plans I could not advise about, and I just
waited for orders.

"But Dravot never showed me disrespect before the people. They were
afraid of me and the Army, but they loved Dan. He was the best of
friends with the priests and the Chiefs; but any one could come across
the hills with a complaint, and Dravot would hear him out fair, and call
four priests together and say what was to be done.
"He used to call in Billy Fish from Bashkai, and Pikky Kergan from Shu,
and an old Chief we called Kafuzelum,--it was like enough to his real
name,--and hold councils with 'em when there was any fighting to be done
in small villages. That was his Council of War, and the four priests of
Bashkai, Shu, Khawak, and Madora was his Privy Council. Between the lot
of 'em they sent me, with forty men and twenty rifles, and sixty men
carrying turquoises, into the Ghorband country to buy those hand-made
Martini rifles, that come out of the Amir's workshops at Kabul, from one
of the Amir's Herati regiments that would have sold the very teeth out
of their mouths for turquoises.

"I stayed in Ghorband a month, and gave the Governor there the pick of
my baskets for hush-money, and bribed the Colonel of the regiment some
more, and, between the two and the tribes-people, we got more than a
hundred hand-made Martinis, a hundred good Kohat Jezails that'll throw
to six hundred yards, and forty man--loads of very bad ammunition for
the rifles. I came back with what I had, and distributed 'em among
the men that the Chiefs sent in to me to drill. Dravot was too busy to
attend to those things, but the old Army that we first made helped me,
and we turned out five hundred men that could drill, and two hundred
that knew how to hold arms pretty straight. Even those cork-screwed,
hand-made guns was a miracle to them. Dravot talked big about
powder-shops and factories, walking up and down in the pine wood when
the winter was coming on.

"'I won't make a Nation,' says he. 'I'll make an Empire! These men
aren't niggers; they're English! Look at their eyes--look at their
mouths. Look at the way they stand up. They sit on chairs in their own
houses. They're the Lost Tribes, or something like it, and they've grown
to be English. I'll take a census in the spring if the priests don't get
frightened.