"Front!" commanded Brown. "Now, one of you, about turn! Keep watch
that way! Is that the Punjabi?--ask him."
"He says 'Yes!' sahib. He and others!"
"Very well. Now tell him that unless he obeys my orders on the jump,
word for word as I give them, I'll hang him as high as Haman by that
withered arm of his, and have him beaten on the toenails with a
cleaning-rod before I fill him so full of bayonet-holes that the
vultures'll take him for a sponge! Say I'm a man of my word, and
don't exaggerate."
The Beluchi translated.
"He says you dare not, sahib!"
"Advise him to talk sense."
"He says, sahib, `You have had one lesson!"'
"Now it's my turn to give him one. Men! We'll have to give up that
sleep I talked about. This limping dummy of a fakir thinks he's got
us frightened, and we've got to teach him different. There's some
reason why we're not being attacked as yet. There's something fishy
going on, and this swab's at the bottom of it! We want him, too,
on a charge of murder, or instigating murder, and the guardroom's
the best place for him.
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