“Who said there would be thirst, and the sound of water! Is there a thirst? Who spoke of an anthill and of hungry ants and raw red openings in the flesh for the little ants to run in and out more easily?”
The Beluchi translated faithfully, and the men all listened.
“Tell him to hold his tongue!” growled Brown at last.
“Ha-ha! Ho-ho-ho!” laughed the fakir. “The heat grows great, and the tongues grow dry, and none bring water! Ho-ho! But I told them that I needed these for a deadlier death than any they devised! Ho-ho-ho-ho! Look at the little crows, how they wait in the branches! Ha-ha-ha-ha! See how the kites come! Where are the vultures? Wait! What speck sails in the sky there? Even the vultures come! Ho-ho-ho-ho!”
“I hear a horse, sir!” said one of the men who watched.
“I heard it more than a minute ago,” said Brown.
The fakir stopped his mockery, and even he listened.
“Ask him,” said Brown, “where are the men who set fire to the guardroom?”
“He says they are in the village, waiting till he sends for them!” said the Beluchi.
“Keep an eye lifting, you men,” ordered Brown. “This'll be a messenger from Bholat, ten to one. Mind they don't ambush him! Watch every way at once, and shoot at anything that moves!”