"What meaneth this black magic?" the gharri-wallah cried,
When he saw the horseless car go forth with only a man inside,
And he sat and planned what rupees he would reap
When the magic failed or went to sleep.
Double fare, at least, he thought,
He'd demand from those whom his services sought;
But, alas, for his dreams of wealth that day,
The magical car had come to stay.
II.
But what of the poor old bhisti's, whose work had been so far
To water with their musick the track of the horseless car?
When they saw the huge water-tank go on its way,
And with showers of water the dust fiend lay;
"This can never last," they wisely cried,
As they sat in a line on the car track side;
"And when it fails it will be our day,
We'll ask for our musicks quite double pay;
Instead of a pice our charge shall be,
An anna at least," and they chuckled with glee;
But they in their turn were doomed to dismay,
For the tank had likewise come to stay.
So to the Red Road away they hied,
And to water it well is now their pride;
When the sahibs drive there in the cool of the day.
They see them at work in the old-time way.
—————
A little hill-boy was Buncee, a chokra trusty and true;
In the days when I was new to the East
He taught me more than he knew;
"Ghusl munta, sahib," said he; I doubtfully shook my head;
"Ghusl na munta," in scandalized tones, but I knew not what he said.
Then he straightened himself against the wall, and went through a pantomime show
Of bathing. I smiled and nodded assent;
It was cute of the boy, you know.
He was eager to save all the pice he could, that when the season was o'er,
And the sahibs all left and went down to the plains
He would have of rupees a store.
So I became his banker, and locked them away in my case,
And told him he now must be doubly sure to take every care of the place.
I returned one day in the midst of the rains, the inner door was locked,
And when I tried the outer one, I found that it was blocked;
So I forced my way into the room, and there the youngster lay,
Stretched out before the outer door, with never a word to say.