"
The sentry's rifle-butt rose again and threatened business. The
Beluchi gave a warning cry, and the fakir tumbled off his dais.
Then, with the trembling Beluchi walking on ahead with the lantern,
and Brown and the sentry urging from behind, the fakir jumped and
squirmed and wabbled on his all but useless feet toward the guardroom.
When they reached the tree where the goat had bleated, the Punjabi
skin-buyer rose up, took one long look at the fakir and ran.
"Well, I'll be!" exclaimed the sentry.
"You'll be worse than that," said Brown, "if you use that language
anywhere where I'm about! I'll not have it, d'you hear? Get on ahead,
and open the door of the clink!"
The sentry obeyed him, and a moment later the fakir was thrust into
a four-square mud-walled room, and the door was locked on him.
"Back to your post," commanded Brown. "And next time I hear you swearing,
I'll treat you to a double-trick, my man! About turn. Quick march."
The sentry trudged off without daring to answer him, and Brown took
a good look at the fakir through the iron bars that protected the
top half of the door.
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