He gave them the
unheard-of wealth of one rupee between them, and they went off with it--
and did not come back.
Meanwhile the fakir had drunk his water, and had poured out what
was left. He had also eaten what the children had brought him, and
suddenly, from vacant, implacable hatred, he woke up and began to
be amused.
"Ha-ha!" he laughed at them. "Ho-ho!" And then he launched out
with a string of eloquence that Brown called on the Beluchi to translate.
"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.
Pages:
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111