Kill the goat, and
tell the Punjabi to wait, if he wants to buy the skin."
"Ha, sahib!"
Brown spun round on his heel, and the servant wilted.
"Yes, sahib!" he corrected.
Brown left him then, with a nod that conveyed remission of cardinal
sin, and a warning not to repeat the offence. As the native ran
off to get the butcher-knife and sharpen it, it was noticeable that
he wore a chastened look.
"Send Sidiki after me!" Brown shouted after him, and a minute later
a nearly naked Beluchi struck a match and emerged from the darkness,
with the light of a lantern gleaming on his skin. He followed like
a snake, and only Brown's sharp, authority-conveying footfalls could
be heard as he trudged sturdily--straight-backed, eyes straight in
front of him--to where an age-old baobab loomed like a phantom in
the night. He marched like a man in armor. Not even the terrific
heat of a Central-Indian night could take the stiffening out of him.
The Beluchi ran ahead, just before they reached the tree. He stopped
and held the lantern up to let its light fall on some object that
was close against the tree-trunk.
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