“That is, you deserted,” sternly amended Shafto.
“Oh well, have it whatever way ye like, sorr. I was shootin’ in the jungles and was took terribly bad with fever and nearly died. The natives are good-natured, kind, soft people—none better; they took me in and nursed me, and one of the pongyes doctored me. You see, I was entirely out of touch with Europeans, and when I got cured was just a walking skeleton. Some thief had made away with my boots and breeches, so I stopped among the natives and never laid eyes on a white face for two years. I soon picked up the Burmese lingo, which some say is difficult; but to me it was aisy as kiss me hand. Then I was received into the priesthood; that was over seven years ago, and here I am still. Of course, as ye know, I can go or stay as I please; but I stick to the yellow robe as if it was me skin. Still and all, I won’t deny that the sight of a soldier draws me, and that,” he concluded modestly, “is my only wakeness.”
“I say, you don’t mean to tell me that you are a real Buddhist?”
“Why, of course I am; what else would I be? The religion is pure and good and friendly; the other priests know that I’m from India—and that’s enough for them. In this country no questions is asked—and that’s what makes livin’ so nice and aisy. And, sure, aren’t we Buddhists all over the world? Our doctrines are wise and ancient; we pray and keep fasts and live to ourselves, and there’s little differ, in my mind, between us and the Catholic religion—in which I was born and reared. Haven’t we the mass, and vespers, and beads, and monasteries, and Lent,—all complate?”
“So then you’re a celibate—a monk?”
“And to be shure I am; ye don’t think I look like a nun, do ye?”
“A water drinker?”
“Well, sorr, I’m tell ye no lie—not altogether; I am not a teetotaller all out, I’m a sober man, and I mostly drink cocoanut water and tea. It’s a fine, free life, I can tell ye.”
“Fine and idle, eh?”
“I’m not more idle than the rest of them; it’s true that I don’t teach, and, of course, it’s only the young fellows that do the sweeping, water-carrying and filtering, and the work at the kyoung. I see a heap of the country and have many friends, who give me small presents, and smokes and food; I have a far better time—a thousand times a better time—than sweating in route marches and carrying round Orderly books in Rangoon or Calcutta; and many’s the quare tale I could tell ye—tales about animals and elephant dances and big snakes, ay, and spirit tales that would open your eyes.”