Plain Tales from the Hills Read online

  MISS YOUGHAL'S SAIS.

  When Man and Woman are agreed, what can the Kazi do?

  Mahomedan Proverb.

  Some people say that there is no romance in India. Those people arewrong. Our lives hold quite as much romance as is good for us. Sometimesmore.

  Strickland was in the Police, and people did not understand him; sothey said he was a doubtful sort of man and passed by on the other side.Strickland had himself to thank for this. He held the extraordinarytheory that a Policeman in India should try to know as much about thenatives as the natives themselves. Now, in the whole of Upper India,there is only ONE man who can pass for Hindu or Mohammedan, chamar orfaquir, as he pleases. He is feared and respected by the natives fromthe Ghor Kathri to the Jamma Musjid; and he is supposed to have the giftof invisibility and executive control over many Devils. But what goodhas this done him with the Government? None in the world. He has nevergot Simla for his charge; and his name is almost unknown to Englishmen.

  Strickland was foolish enough to take that man for his model; and,following out his absurd theory, dabbled in unsavory places norespectable man would think of exploring--all among the nativeriff-raff. He educated himself in this peculiar way for seven years, andpeople could not appreciate it. He was perpetually "going Fantee" amongthe natives, which, of course, no man with any sense believes in. He wasinitiated into the Sat Bhai at Allahabad once, when he was on leave; heknew the Lizard-Song of the Sansis, and the Halli-Hukk dance, which isa religious can-can of a startling kind. When a man knows who dances theHalli-Hukk, and how, and when, and where, he knows something to be proudof. He has gone deeper than the skin. But Strickland was not proud,though he had helped once, at Jagadhri, at the Painting of the DeathBull, which no Englishman must even look upon; had mastered thethieves'-patter of the changars; had taken a Eusufzai horse-thief alonenear Attock; and had stood under the mimbar-board of a Border mosque andconducted service in the manner of a Sunni Mollah.

  His crowning achievement was spending eleven days as a faquir in thegardens of Baba Atal at Amritsar, and there picking up the threads ofthe great Nasiban Murder Case. But people said, justly enough: "Why onearth can't Strickland sit in his office and write up his diary, andrecruit, and keep quiet, instead of showing up the incapacity of hisseniors?" So the Nasiban Murder Case did him no good departmentally;but, after his first feeling of wrath, he returned to his outlandishcustom of prying into native life. By the way, when a man once acquiresa taste for this particular amusement, it abides with him all his days.It is the most fascinating thing in the world; Love not excepted. Whereother men took ten days to the Hills, Strickland took leave for whathe called shikar, put on the disguise that appealed to him at the time,stepped down into the brown crowd, and was swallowed up for a while. Hewas a quiet, dark young fellow--spare, black-eyes--and, when he was notthinking of something else, a very interesting companion. Stricklandon Native Progress as he had seen it was worth hearing. Natives hatedStrickland; but they were afraid of him. He knew too much.

  When the Youghals came into the station, Strickland--very gravely, as hedid everything--fell in love with Miss Youghal; and she, after awhile, fell in love with him because she could not understand him. ThenStrickland told the parents; but Mrs. Youghal said she was not going tothrow her daughter into the worst paid Department in the Empire, and oldYoughal said, in so many words, that he mistrusted Strickland's waysand works, and would thank him not to speak or write to his daughterany more. "Very well," said Strickland, for he did not wish to makehis lady-love's life a burden. After one long talk with Miss Youghal hedropped the business entirely.

  The Youghals went up to Simla in April.

  In July, Strickland secured three months' leave on "urgent privateaffairs." He locked up his house--though not a native in the Providencewould wittingly have touched "Estreekin Sahib's" gear for the world--andwent down to see a friend of his, an old dyer, at Tarn Taran.

  Here all trace of him was lost, until a sais met me on the Simla Mallwith this extraordinary note:

  "Dear old man,

  "Please give bearer a box of cheroots--Supers, No. I, for preference.They are freshest at the Club. I'll repay when I reappear; but atpresent I'm out of Society.

  "Yours,

  "E. STRICKLAND."

  I ordered two boxes, and handed them over to the sais with my love. Thatsais was Strickland, and he was in old Youghal's employ, attached toMiss Youghal's Arab. The poor fellow was suffering for an Englishsmoke, and knew that whatever happened I should hold my tongue till thebusiness was over.

  Later on, Mrs. Youghal, who was wrapped up in her servants, begantalking at houses where she called of her paragon among saises--the manwho was never too busy to get up in the morning and pick flowers forthe breakfast-table, and who blacked--actually BLACKED--the hoofs of hishorse like a London coachman! The turnout of Miss Youghal's Arab was awonder and a delight. Strickland--Dulloo, I mean--found his rewardin the pretty things that Miss Youghal said to him when she went outriding. Her parents were pleased to find she had forgotten all herfoolishness for young Strickland and said she was a good girl.

  Strickland vows that the two months of his service were the most rigidmental discipline he has ever gone through. Quite apart from the littlefact that the wife of one of his fellow-saises fell in love with him andthen tried to poison him with arsenic because he would have nothingto do with her, he had to school himself into keeping quiet when MissYoughal went out riding with some man who tried to flirt with her, andhe was forced to trot behind carrying the blanket and hearing everyword! Also, he had to keep his temper when he was slanged in "Benmore"porch by a policeman--especially once when he was abused by a Naik hehad himself recruited from Isser Jang village--or, worse still, when ayoung subaltern called him a pig for not making way quickly enough.

  But the life had its compensations. He obtained great insight into theways and thefts of saises--enough, he says, to have summarily convictedhalf the chamar population of the Punjab if he had been on business. Hebecame one of the leading players at knuckle-bones, which all jhampanisand many saises play while they are waiting outside the Government Houseor the Gaiety Theatre of nights; he learned to smoke tobacco that wasthree-fourths cowdung; and he heard the wisdom of the grizzled Jemadarof the Government House saises, whose words are valuable. He saw manythings which amused him; and he states, on honor, that no man canappreciate Simla properly, till he has seen it from the sais's point ofview. He also says that, if he chose to write all he saw, his head wouldbe broken in several places.

  Strickland's account of the agony he endured on wet nights, hearing themusic and seeing the lights in "Benmore," with his toes tingling for awaltz and his head in a horse-blanket, is rather amusing. One of thesedays, Strickland is going to write a little book on his experiences.That book will be worth buying; and even more, worth suppressing.

  Thus, he served faithfully as Jacob served for Rachel; and his leave wasnearly at an end when the explosion came. He had really done his best tokeep his temper in the hearing of the flirtations I have mentioned; buthe broke down at last. An old and very distinguished General tookMiss Youghal for a ride, and began that specially offensive"you're-only-a-little-girl" sort of flirtation--most difficult fora woman to turn aside deftly, and most maddening to listen to. MissYoughal was shaking with fear at the things he said in the hearing ofher sais. Dulloo--Strickland--stood it as long as he could. Then hecaught hold of the General's bridle, and, in most fluent English,invited him to step off and be heaved over the cliff. Next minute MissYoughal began crying; and Strickland saw that he had hopelessly givenhimself away, and everything was over.

  The General nearly had a fit, while Miss Youghal was sobbing out thestory of the disguise and the engagement that wasn't recognized by theparents. Strickland was furiously angry with himself and more angrywith the General for forcing his hand; so he said nothing, but heldthe horse's head and prepared to thrash the General as some sort ofsatisfaction
, but when the General had thoroughly grasped the story, andknew who Strickland was, he began to puff and blow in the saddle, andnearly rolled off with laughing. He said Strickland deserved a V. C.,if it were only for putting on a sais's blanket. Then he called himselfnames, and vowed that he deserved a thrashing, but he was too old totake it from Strickland. Then he complimented Miss Youghal on her lover.The scandal of the business never struck him; for he was a nice old man,with a weakness for flirtations. Then he laughed again, and saidthat old Youghal was a fool. Strickland let go of the cob's head,and suggested that the General had better help them, if that was hisopinion. Strickland knew Youghal's weakness for men with titles andletters after their names and high official position. "It's rather likea forty-minute farce," said the General, "but begad, I WILL help, ifit's only to escape that tremendous thrashing I deserved. Go alongto your home, my sais-Policeman, and change into decent kit, and I'llattack Mr. Youghal. Miss Youghal, may I ask you to canter home and wait?"

  . . . . . . . . .

  About seven minutes later, there was a wild hurroosh at the Club. Asais, with a blanket and head-rope, was asking all the men he knew: "ForHeaven's sake lend me decent clothes!" As the men did not recognize him,there were some peculiar scenes before Strickland could get a hot bath,with soda in it, in one room, a shirt here, a collar there, a pairof trousers elsewhere, and so on. He galloped off, with half the Clubwardrobe on his back, and an utter stranger's pony under him, to thehouse of old Youghal. The General, arrayed in purple and fine linen, wasbefore him. What the General had said Strickland never knew, but Youghalreceived Strickland with moderate civility; and Mrs. Youghal, touchedby the devotion of the transformed Dulloo, was almost kind. The Generalbeamed, and chuckled, and Miss Youghal came in, and almost before oldYoughal knew where he was, the parental consent had been wrenched outand Strickland had departed with Miss Youghal to the Telegraph Officeto wire for his kit. The final embarrassment was when an utter strangerattacked him on the Mall and asked for the stolen pony.

  So, in the end, Strickland and Miss Youghal were married, on the strictunderstanding that Strickland should drop his old ways, and stick toDepartmental routine, which pays best and leads to Simla. Stricklandwas far too fond of his wife, just then, to break his word, but it wasa sore trial to him; for the streets and the bazars, and the sounds inthem, were full of meaning to Strickland, and these called to him tocome back and take up his wanderings and his discoveries. Some day, Iwill tell you how he broke his promise to help a friend. That was longsince, and he has, by this time, been nearly spoilt for what he wouldcall shikar. He is forgetting the slang, and the beggar's cant, and themarks, and the signs, and the drift of the undercurrents, which, if aman would master, he must always continue to learn.

  But he fills in his Departmental returns beautifully.