James Greyman was interrupted by a relieved pshaw! from the Political.
"The old story, eh, Greyman! I wonder what next these ignorant fools----"
"When the ignorant fools happen to be drilled soldiers, and, in Bengal, outnumber our English troops by twenty-four to one," retorted James Greyman sharply, "it seems a work of supererogation to ask what they will do next. If I were in their place---- However, if I may tell you how that came into my hands you will perhaps be able to grasp the gravity of the situation."
"Won't you take a chair?" asked the soldier quickly.
James Greyman glanced at the Political. "No, thanks, I won't be long. There is a class of grain carriers called Bunjârahs. They keep herds of oxen, and have carried supplies for the Royal troops since time immemorial. They have a charter engraved on a copper breastplate. I've only seen a copy, for the original Jhungi and Bhungi lived ages ago in Rajpootana. It runs so:
"While Jhungi Bhungi's oxen
Carry the army's corn,
House-thatch to feed their flocks on,
House-water ready drawn.
Three murders daily shriven,
These rights to them are given,
While Jhungi Bhungi's oxen
Carry the army's corn."
"Preposterous," murmured the civilian. "That's at an end, anyhow."
"Naturally; for they no longer carry the corn. The method is too slow, too Eastern for our Commissariat. But the Oude levies used to employ them. So did I at the stables. This is over also, and when I last saw my tanda--that's a caravan of them, sir--they were sub-contracting under a rich Hindoo firm which was dealing direct with the Department. They didn't like it."
"Still you can't deny that the growth of a strong, contented commercial class with a real stake in the country----" began the civilian hurriedly.
"That sounds like the home-counties or a vestry board," interrupted his hearer dryly. "The worst of it, in this case, being that you have to get your content out of the petty dealers like these Bunjârahs. I came upon one yesterday telling a circle of admirers, in the strictest confidence of course, lest the Sirkar should kill him for letting the cat out of the bag, that he had found that bit of bone at the bottom of a Commissariat sack he bought to mend his own. The moral being, of course, that it was safer to buy from him. But he was only half through when I, knowing the scoundrel, fell on him and thrashed him for lying. The audience approved, and assented to his confession that it was a lie; but only to please me, the man with the stick. And as for Jhungi, he will tell the tale with additional embellishments in every village to which the caravan goes; unless someone is there to thrash him if he does."