The king and I and the populace approached the hut cautiously. There was no hope of capturing our man without loss of life, for from a hole in the wall projected the muzzle of an extremely well-cared-for gun--the only gun in the state that could shoot. Namgay Doola had narrowly missed a villager just before we came up.
The standing army stood.
It could do no more, for when it advanced pieces of sharp shale flew from the windows. To these were added from time to time showers of scalding water. We saw red beads bobbing up and down within. The family of Namgay Doola were aiding their sire. Blood-curdling yells of defiance were the only answer to our prayers.
"Never," said the king, puffing, "has such a thing befallen my state.
Next year I will certainly buy a little cannon." He looked at me imploringly.
"Is there any priest in the kingdom to whom he will listen?" said I, for a light was beginning to break upon me.
"He worships his own G.o.d," said the prime minister. "We can but starve him out."
"Let the white man approach," said Namgay Doola from within. "All others I will kill. Send me the white man."
The door was thrown open and I entered the smoky interior of a Thibetan hut crammed with children. And every child had flaming red hair. A freshgathered cow"s tail lay on the floor, and by its side two pieces of black velvet--my black velvet--rudely hacked into the semblance of masks.
"And what is this shame, Namgay Doola?" I asked.
He grinned more charmingly than ever. "There is no shame," said he. "I did but cut off the tail of that man"s cow. He betrayed me. I was minded to shoot him, sahib, but not to death. Indeed, not to death; only in the legs."
"And why at all, since it is the custom to pay revenue to the king? Why at all?"
"By the G.o.d of my father, I cannot tell," said Namgay Doola.
"And who was thy father?"
"The same that had this gun." He showed me his weapon, a Tower musket, bearing date 1832 and the stamp of the Honorable East India Company.
"And thy father"s name?" said I.
He obeyed, and I understood whence the puzzling accent in his speech came. "Thimla Dhula!" said he, excitedly. "To this hour I worship his G.o.d."
"May I see that G.o.d?"
"In a little while--at twilight time."
"Rememberest thou aught of thy father"s speech?"
"It is long ago. But there was one word which he said often. Thus, ""Shun!" Then I and my brethren stood upon our feet, our hands to our sides, thus."
"Even so. And what was thy mother?"
"A woman of the Hills. We be Lepchas of Darjiling, but me they call an outlander because my hair is as thou seest."
The Thibetan woman, his wife, touched him on the arm gently. The long parley outside the fort had lasted far into the day. It was now close upon twilight--the hour of the Angelus. Very solemnly the red-headed brats rose from the floor and formed a semicircle. Namgay Doola laid his gun aside, lighted a little oil-lamp, and set it before a recess in the wall. Pulling back a wisp of dirty cloth, he revealed a worn bra.s.s crucifix leaning against the helmet badge of a long-forgotten East India Company"s regiment. "Thus did my father," he said, crossing himself clumsily. The wife and children followed suit. Then, all together, they struck up the wailing cham that I heard on the hillside:
"Dir bane mard-i-yemen dir To weeree ala gee."
I was puzzled no longer. Again and again they sung, as if their hearts would break, their version of the chorus of "The Wearing of the Green":
"They"re hanging men and women, too, For the wearing of the green,"
A diabolical inspiration came to me. One of the brats, a boy about eight years old--could he have been in the fields last night?--was watching me as he sung. I pulled out a rupee, held the coin between finger and thumb, and looked--only looked--at the gun leaning against the wall.
A grin of brilliant and perfect comprehension overspread his porringer-like face. Never for an instant stopping the song, he held out his hand for the money, and then slid the gun to my hand. I might have shot Namgay Doola dead as he chanted, but I was satisfied. The inevitable blood-instinct held true. Namgay Doola drew the curtain across the recess. Angelus was over.
"Thus my father sung. There was much more, but I have forgotten, and I do not know the purport of even these words, but it may be that the G.o.d will understand. I am not of this people, and I will not pay revenue."
"And why?"
Again that soul-compelling grin. "What occupation would be to me between crop and crop? It is better than scaring bears. But these people do not understand."
He picked the masks off the floor and looked in my face as simply as a child.
"By what road didst thou attain knowledge to make those deviltries?" I said, pointing.
"I cannot tell. I am but a Lepcha of Darjiling, and yet the stuff"--
"Which thou hast stolen," said I.
"Nay, surely. Did I steal? I desired it so. The stuff--the stuff. What else should I have done with the stuff?" He twisted the velvet between his fingers.
"But the sin of maiming the cow--consider that."
"Oh, sahib, the man betrayed me; the heifer"s tail waved in the moonlight, and I had my knife. What else should I have done? The tail came off ere I was aware. Sahib, thou knowest more than I."
"That is true," said I. "Stay within the door. I go to speak to the king." The population of the state were ranged on the hillside. I went forth and spoke.
"O king," said I, "touching this man, there be two courses open to thy wisdom. Thou canst either hang him from a tree--him and his brood--till there remains no hair that is red within thy land."
"Nay," said the king. "Why should I hurt the little children?"
They had poured out of the hut and were making plump obeisances to everybody. Namgay Doola waited at the door with his gun across his arm.
"Or thou canst, discarding their impiety of the cow-maiming, raise him to honor in thy army. He comes of a race that will not pay revenue. A red flame is in his blood which comes out at the top of his head in that glowing hair. Make him chief of thy army. Give him honor as may befall and full allowance of work, but look to it, oh, king, that neither he nor his hold a foot of earth from thee henceforward. Feed him with words and favor, and also liquor from certain bottles that thou knowest of, and he will be a bulwark of defense. But deny him even a tuftlet of gra.s.s for his own. This is the nature that G.o.d has given him. Moreover, he has brethren"--
The state groaned unanimously.
"But if his brethren come they will surely fight with each other till they die; or else the one will always give information concerning the other. Shall he be of thy army, oh, king? Choose!"
The king bowed his head, and I said:
"Come forth, Namgay Doola, and command the king"s army. Thy name shall no more be Namgay in the mouths of men, but Patsay Doola, for, as thou hast truly said, I know."
Then Namgay Doola, never christened Patsay Doola, son of Timlay Doola--which is Tim Doolan--clasped the king"s feet, cuffed the standing army, and hurried in an agony of contrition from temple to temple making offerings for the sin of the cattle--maiming.
And the king was so pleased with my perspicacity that he offered to sell me a village for 20 pounds sterling. But I buy no village in the Himalayas so long as one red head flares between the tail of the heaven-climbing glacier and the dark birch forest.
I know that breed.