I took the book and pencil from his hand, and wrote the answers to printed questions on the page.
“And you, sahib?” said the officer, turning to Marten.
“Oh, go chase yourself!” growled my companion. “I ain’t no Roossian. You got no business botherin’ Europeans.”
“The sahib must answer the questions or he cannot go on the train,” murmured the native.
“How will you stop me from goin’?” demanded Marten.
The officer muttered something in his own language to his companions.
“You would, would you?” shouted Marten.
“Ah! The sahib speaks Hindustanee?” gasped the sergeant. “What is your name, please, sir?”
“Look here,” growled Marten; “I’ll give you my name if you’ll promise not to ask any more fool questions.”
The native smiled with delight, and raised his pencil.