Concerning the Hindustani.
I thought of the Hindustani, and gnashed upon him: for the Hakims had done much evil already, and I thought they would surely complete their work.
“He has allowed his petty spite to place the life of the Amîr in danger,” thought I; “to say nothing of my life and that of the two Europeans here.”
Mr. Pyne had fortunately been able at this time to obtain leave, and had departed for India with an order for more machinery.
The idea occurred to me in a colloidal form that perhaps I ought to destroy this Hindustani gnat. I say “colloidal,” for I doubt if the idea would ever have crystallized into action. When one has been long trained in the art of saving life, killing does not come readily. I fancy, however, I must have expressed the idea aloud, for the Armenian said:—
“Sir, you not kill it. You big man, he very small man. Your wish, you can shoot Commander-in-Chief or Dabier-ul-Mulk; you not kill two pice Hindustani—dog’s son. Other small man catch it and kill it for you.”
The employment of assassins, however, did not appeal to my imagination as a suitable line of action, and I determined to await the course of events.
For some little time afterwards, if I heard much commotion or bustle outside, I said to myself,
“The hour has come. The Amîr has joined his fathers; now for the last fight.”