There Were Also
A Score Or So Of His Friends Hanging Around,
Doubtless Waiting In The Expectation Of Seeing The
"Sahib" Hoodwinked.
When the bed was placed
on the ground near me, I lifted the blanket with
which he had covered himself and thoroughly
examined him, at the same time feeling him to
make sure that he had no fever.
He pretended
to be desperately ill and again asked for dawa;
but having finally satisfied myself that it was as
the jemadar had said - pure budmashi (devilment)
- I told him that I was going to give him some
very effective dawa, and carefully covered him up
again, pulling the blanket over his head. I then
got a big armful of shavings from a carpenter's
bench which was close by, put them under the
bed and set fire to them. As soon as the sham
invalid felt the heat, he peeped over the edge of
the blanket; and when he saw the smoke and
flame leaping up round him, he threw the blanket
from him, sprang from the bed exclaiming
"Beiman shaitan!" ("Unbelieving devil!"), and
fled like a deer to the entrance of my boma,
pursued by a Sikh sepoy, who got in a couple
of good whacks on his shoulders with a stout
stick before he effected his escape. His amused
comrades greeted me with shouts of "Shabash,
Sahib!" ("Well done, sir"), and I never had
any further trouble with Karim Bux. He came
back later in the day, with clasped hands imploring
forgiveness, which I readily granted, as he was a
clever workman.
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