Christmas came and went uneventfully without an outbreak, and I could not refrain from congratulating Craddock on one temptation safely over.
He smiled broadly.
"Lor' bless you, sir," he said, "you didn't never think, did you, that Nathaniel James Craddock, which his name was given to 'im in Holy Baptism, I do assure you, was going to knuckle down that way to old Hommipuddenhome? 'Twouldn't be fair on Christmas noways, sir, and though I don't set the store 'e does on 'is spiritooal nater, I was born and bred in a Christyan country, I do assure you."
I congratulated him warmly on his sentiments, and hoped again that they would last; to which he replied as before that he hoped so too.
And then Holi time came round, and, as luck would have it, the place was full of riff-raff low whites going on to look for work in a further section. I had to drive through the bazaar on my way to the railway station and it beat anything I had ever seen in various vice. East and West were outbidding each other in iniquity, and to make matters worse an electrical dust-storm was blowing hard. You never saw such a scene; it was pandemonium, background and all. I thought I caught a glimpse of a corn-coloured beard and a pair of blue eyes in a wooden balcony among tinkling sútáras and jasmine chaplets, but I wasn't sure. However, as I was stepping into the inspection carriage which, as usual, was the last in the train, I saw Craddock crossing the platform to his engine. His white coat was all splashed with the red dye they had been throwing at each other, Holi fashion, in the bazaar; his walk, to my eyes, had a lilt in it, and finally, the neck of a black bottle showed from one pocket.
Obedient to one of those sudden impulses which come, heaven knows why, I took my foot off the step and followed him to the engine.
"Comin' aboard, sir," he said quite collectedly. "You'd be better be'ind to-night, for it's blowin' grit fit to make me a walkin' sandpaper inside and out." And before I could stop him the black bottle was at his mouth. This decided me. Perhaps my face showed my thoughts, for as I climbed into the cab he gave an uneasy laugh. "Don't be afraid, sir: it's black as pitch, but I knows where old Meditation comes by instinck, I do assure you. One hour an' seventeen minutes from the distance signal with pressure as it oughter be. Hillo! there's the whistle and the baboo a-waving. Off we goes!"
As we flashed past a red light I looked at my watch.
"Don't you be afraid, sir," he said, again looking at his. "It's ten to ten now, and in one hour an' seventeen minutes on goes the brake. That's the ticket for Shivers and Martha Davy; though I am a Wishnyou Lucksmi." He paused a moment, and as he stood put his hand on a stanchion to steady himself.
"Very much of a Wishnyou Lucksmi," he went on with a shake of the head. "I've 'ad a drop too much and I know it; but it ain't fair on a fellar like me, 'aving so many names to them, when they're all the same--a eatin' an' drinkin' lot like me. There's Christen[[10]]--you'd 'ave thought he'd 'ave been a decent chap by 'is name, but 'e went on orful with them Gopis--that's Hindu for milkmaids, sir. And Harry[[11]]--well, he wasn't no better than some other Harrys I've heard on. And Canyer,[[12]] I expect he could just about. To say nothin' of Gopi-naughty;[[13]] and naughty he were, as no doubt you've heard tell, sir. There's too many on them for a pore fellar who don't set store by 'is spiritooal nater; especially when they mixes themselves up with Angcore[[14]] whisky, an' ginger ale."