The Hindoo’s face darkened, and an odd gleam shone in his eyes.
“Sir Harold no ’count gen’leman,” he said briefly. “Karrah no like him. Three days ’fore tiger eat him, Karrah look into Sir Harold’s purse and take out gold, only few miserable pieces, and Karrah look into Captain Wynde’s trunk and take a few letters and diamond pin. Sir Harold come in sudden, see it all; he eyes fire up; he seize Karrah by waistband and kick he out doors. Karrah hate Sir Harold—hate—hate!”
The indolent officer shrank before the sudden blaze of his servant’s eyes, with a sudden realization of the possibilities of that ignorant, untaught and vicious nature.
“Why, you’re a perfect demon, Karrah,” exclaimed the major. “You’re a firebrand—a—a devil! If you hated Sir Harold to such an extent, how did it happen that you continued in his service, and were even his attendant upon that last ride?”
The Hindoo smiled slowly, a strange, cruel smile.
“Oh,” he said softly, “Karrah go back; Karrah say sorry; know no better. Sir Harold smile sad, say been hasty, and forgive. Karrah say he love Sir Harold. That night Karrah send messenger up country—”
He paused abruptly, as if he had said more than he intended.
“Well, what did you send a messenger up country for, you rascal?”
“To Karrah’s people, many miles away, to say that Karrah not come home,” declared the Hindoo more guardedly. “Makes no difference why Karrah sent. Karrah stay with Sahib Sir Harold three days, and see him die. Then Karrah live with Sahib Major.”
“I hope you don’t hate me,” said the major, with a shudder. “I have a fancy that your hatred would be as deadly as a cobra’s. If it were not for the tiger, I might think—But, pshaw! And yet—I say, Karrah, did you know that there was a tiger in that part of the jungle that morning?”