Another string of women started for the water-hole, with their picturesque
brass jars perched at varying angles on their heads; and as each one
passed the doorway of this larger house she turned and scowled. A
Rajput, lean and black-bearded and swaggering, came to the door and
watched them, standing proudly with his arms folded across his breast.
As the last woman showed her teeth at him, he laughed aloud.
"Nay!" said a voice inside. "Have done with that! Is noticing the
Hindu women fit sport for a Rajput?"
The youngster turned and faced the old, black-bearded veteran who
spoke.
"If I had my way," he answered, "I would ride roughshod through this
village, and fire the thatch. They fail to realize the honor that
we pay them by a visit!"
"Aye, hothead! And burn thy brother's barn with what is in it!
The Hindus here are many, and we are few, and there will be burnings
and saberings a-plenty before a week is past, if I read the signs
aright! Once before have I heard such murmurings. Once before I
have seen chupatties sent from house to house at sunset--and that
time blood ran red along the roadside for a month to follow! Keep
thy sword sharp a while and wait the day!"
"But why," growled another deep-throated Rajput voice, "does the Sirkar
wait? Why not smite first and swiftly?"
Mahommed Khan moved restlessly and ran his fingers through his beard.
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