Page:Oriental Stories v01 n01 (1930-10).djvu/80

This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
78
Oriental Stories

Is he dishonored? Give him money, say the sahibs. Hath he a wrong upon his head? Then give him filthy gold, say the sahibs. Such are the sahibs and such art thou—even thou!. . . Nay! I beg thee to forget my foolish words. Forgive me, oh my brother! I knew not what I said. I shall pour dust upon my head, yet I am an Afridi! Because of my sorrow I revile thee, oh my friend—even as a Pathan!"


Trowbridge sat immovable. Across his face shone no flicker of emotion now; it was the calm visage of a Buddha—or a poker player. After a pause the Afghan went on:

"To Delhi my quest first led me, Protector of the Helpless. From that stinking city I sped swiftly to the west to Bahadurgath and Rania, led only by a Voice. Smile not, oh my friend. That Voice was a djinn calling to me from out the hot parched earth. There are no devils, oh Trowbridge sahib? Smile not, for I have seen them pass before my face. I have heard them calling to each other in the parched Rechna as a stallion calls to his mares.

"Yet always before me fled him whom I sought. I came unto Fazilha and passed through swiftly, sleeping not, eating not, while the fire within my breast flared like the flames of the Pit itself. A dancing girl of the bazars told me he whom I sought had gone to Okara with a caravan of horse-traders. Like a leopard on a hot scent I followed, even to the rail that runs to Montgomery, and there the Voice bade me turn upon the road from Jhang, Samundri and Gugera until I came to Sahiwal.

"The one I pursued stood before a sweetmeat stall but the crowd moved thickly to and fro. When I pushed my way to the place where I had seen him he was gone. Did he see me or no I knew not; perhaps a djinn whispered in his ear. Once more I hurried on, past the sandy wastes of the Rechna where devils called and rioted in the evening winds. Though I went swiftly, yet the one before me was winged by the terror of Death that rode upon his crupper.

"The Jehalum was in flood. I forced my mare into the ford, for I would not wait. But the river god was angry. My mare was washed away and so would I have been also save for that pearl among elephants, Ram Pershad, and his mahout, who drove the great beast into the tawny flood below the ford and so rescued me. But he whom I followed was safe upon the further shore, having crossed twelve hours before I came.

"Thrice the sun rose before I could go on. Ahi! Alghies! Ahi! In the light of the third morning I was paddled across that muddy stream, for the ford was yet too deep to travel. I must retrace my steps a long weary way from where the river god's resistless might had driven me.

"The Voice led me co the Salt Hills and on to Shapur, and there again I heard tidings of him I sought. He had sold horses to a sahib near Pindigeb. Though I was far from the Great Road that leads past the cantonments and the iron road that runs to the south which, as the Presence knows, is the winter path of the dealers, I journeyed fast to Sialkit.

"I thanked Allah that we twain would soon be among the mighty hills and the little matter between us would be settled according to our own hill custom. But a Jullalee [Evil Spirit] must have whispered to him. At Sialkit he had doubled back upon his own track toward the south where men are rats and trulls the women. A fit place for such as he! And the flame within me burned the hotter now for I must remember my oath and bow before the Law. Ahi! Ahi!

"Long was the way of my quest but at