There was a long pause while victory hung in the balance. A white-haired old sinner, standing on one uneasy leg, piped up:
“There are ponies and some few bullocks and other things for which we need a kowl [protection]. They were not taken in the way of trade.”
The battle was won, and John Chinn drew a breath of relief. The young Bhils had been raiding, but if taken swiftly all could be put straight.
“I will write a kowl so soon as the ponies, the bullocks, and the other things are counted before me and sent back whence they came. But first we will put the Government mark on such as have not been visited by Smallpox.” In an undertone, to the vaccinator: “If you show you are afraid you’ll never see Poona again, my friend.”
“There is not sufficient ample supply of vaccination for all this population,” said the man. “They destroyed the offeecial calf.”
“They won’t know the difference. Scrape ’em and give me a couple of lancets; I’ll attend to the elders.”
The aged diplomat who had demanded protection was the first victim. He fell to Chinn’s hand and dared not cry out. As soon as he was freed he dragged up a companion, and held him fast, and the crisis became, as it were, a child’s sport; for the vaccinated chased the unvaccinated to treatment, vowing that all the tribe must suffer equally. The women shrieked, and the children ran howling; but Chinn laughed, and waved the pink-tipped lancet.
“It is an honour,” he cried. “Tell them, Bukta, how great an honour it is that I myself mark them. Nay, I cannot mark every one—the Hindoo must also do his work—but I will touch all marks that he makes, so there will be an equal virtue in them. Thus do the Rajputs stick pigs. Ho, brother with one eye! Catch that girl and bring her to me. She need not run away yet, for she is not married, and I do not seek her in marriage. She will not come? Then she shall be shamed by her little brother, a fat boy, a bold boy. He puts out his arm like a soldier. Look! He does not flinch at the blood. Some day he shall be in my regiment. And now, mother of many, we will lightly touch thee, for Smallpox has been before us here. It is a true thing, indeed, that this charm breaks the power of Mata. There will be no more pitted faces among the Satpuras, and so ye can ask many cows for each maid to be wed.”
And so on and so on—quick-poured showman’s patter, sauced in the Bhil hunting-proverbs and tales of their own brand of coarse humour till the lancets were blunted and both operators worn out.
But, nature being the same the world over, the unvaccinated grew jealous of their marked comrades, and came near to blows about it. Then Chinn declared himself a court of justice, no longer a medical board, and made formal inquiry into the late robberies.