“Come, come!” said Sir William. “There is none here to do you harm, if you be innocent; and if you be guilty, your escape is quite cut off. Speak, what do you here among the graves of the dead and the remains of the unburied?”
“You no murderer?” inquired Secundra. “You true man? You see me safe?”
“I will see you safe, if you be innocent,” returned Sir William. “I have said the thing, and I see not wherefore you should doubt it.”
“These all murderers,” cried Secundra, “that is why! He kill—murderer,” pointing to Mountain; “these two hire-murderers,” pointing to my lord and myself—“all gallows-murderers! Ah! I see you all swing in a rope. Now I go save the Sahib; he see you swing in a rope. The Sahib,” he continued, pointing to the grave, “he not dead. He bury, he not dead.”
My lord uttered a little noise, moved nearer to the grave, and stood and stared in it.
“Buried and not dead?” exclaimed Sir William. “What kind of rant is this?”
“See, Sahib,” said Secundra. “The Sahib and I alone with murderers; try all way to escape, no way good. Then try this way: good way in warm climate, good way in India; here, in this dam cold place, who can tell? I tell you pretty good hurry: you help, you light a fire, help rub.”
“What is the creature talking of?” cried Sir William. “My head goes round.”
“I tell you I bury him alive,” said Secundra. “I teach him swallow his tongue. Now dig him up pretty good hurry, and he not much worse. You light a fire.”
Sir William turned to the nearest of his men. “Light a fire,” said he. “My lot seems to be cast with the insane.”