One of the boxes was smashed to pieces, and the rupees were lying about in all directions, the Sepoys picking them up, and searching for others in the dust and sand. I never witnessed a more ridiculous or grotesque scene than this—the native soldiers in their red coats and chacos, but with bare legs and without shoes, kneeling, and sifting the earth through their fingers, the Lieutenant in his pyjamahs and solar hat, a cheroot in his mouth, and in his hand the buggy-whip, which he used as a baton while giving his orders.
"Does this often happen?" I was tempted to ask.
"Constantly," was the Lieutenant's reply. "The Government has a bullock-train for the conveyance of stores; and even private individuals, by paying for the carriage, may have their goods taken from station to station; but, in respect to treasure, we cling to the old system. The military authorities apply to the magistrates, whose subordinates provide these hackeries, which were in vogue some five thousand years ago. And just observe those rotten boxes."
"Why are they not lined with cast iron or zinc?"
"It would be too expensive. The Government cannot afford it."
"But why should not the Government use its own bullock-train for the conveyance of treasure, instead of hiring these antiquated and rotten conveyances?"
"Because the bullock-train is under the post-office authorities; and the military authorities have nothing to do with the post-office authorities."
"Is that a reason?"
"No—nor is it rhyme; but it is a part of our Indian system, and, what is more, it is Government logic. However, I am not going to stop here all day. We will push on, and get into Agra before breakfast. The treasure will come all right enough, and I will be there to meet it at the office of the magistrate and collector."
We now took our seats in the old buggy. The hood was raised, the syce sat behind, and off we went at a canter, which very soon became a gallop. In the parlance of the Lieutenant, the old horse was indeed "a ripper." When warm there was no holding him, and he went over his seven and a half miles of ground in thirty-seven minutes. At the bridge of boats which crosses the Jumna, we met, by chance, the assistant magistrate (the friend with whom I was going to stay, and the husband of the Lieutenant's first cousin). He was dressed in a pair of large jack-boots, corduroy breeches, a shooting-coat, and a solar helmet, and was riding an immensely powerful Cape horse. He did not recognise either of us at first, but pulled up, and turned round the moment the Lieutenant shouted out his name, with the addition of "Old boy!"—household words in the mouth of the Lieutenant, for he not only applied them to things animate, but inanimate; for instance, his corkscrew, his teapot, his buggy, his watch, his hat, everything with him was an old boy, in common with the Lieutenant-Governor, or the general commanding the division.