Adventure Magazine Cover, December 10, 1922 — page 22: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

16 “Nay, sahib!”’ es I, also, will not let you have the That was final. All three men recog- nized it. If he had lorded it over them, or argued, or threatened, there would have been a false note, which would have led to dispute, hot words and quite likely mur- , der. But he stated facts simply, and they understood. “Father of Forests, you can not fight against allofus. Wearemany. Werise in honor of the Khalifate, which is being sacri- ficed by the British for the sake of Hindus.”’ “As I’ve told you a score of times, you know nothing about international politics.” Ommony answered. ‘“You’ve been lied to by professional agitators, whose salaries are paid by the same foreigners who sent you those swords and sword-belts. _Who- ever enters politics is a fool. I have told you that often.” “Vou will be a fool if you fight against us, sahib.”’ “JT don’t intend to,’ said Ommony. “T shall stay here in my forest, on duty.” He said ‘‘my forest” with the unconscious arrogance that came of having served the forest faithfully for twenty years. It was really the forest that owned him. “But—but if harm comes?” “Then my blood will be on your heads. I have been your friend. I never harmed one of you.” “That is true. Allah be witness, that is true. But if we take the guns and am- munition?” ‘Allah will witness that also. It will be over my dead body.” “Ommon-ee sahib, that must not be.” “Don’t try to take the guns then.” “But we need them.” So do I.” “Oh. If you need them. Ah. That is straight talk.” The three heads whispered together for a minute, looking devilish sly as they nodded, arriving at decision. “You will not give the guns to the Hindus?” “No.” “Nor the Brahmans? They are worse than Hindus.” No,” “Good. That is satisfactory. You have always been a friend to us, Ommon-ee. You know our Koran better than our own priests do. You have known many of our secrets and have not told.” 7 ' Adventure “That isn’t true,” said Ommony. “I have told the Government in Calcutta, in Otticamund and in Simla all I knew of your secrets. J have warned them of your in- tentions. They told me to come back here and mind my forest. I did.” The Moplahs laughed. That was the type of joke that tickled them, for they did not doubt for a single second the deliberate truth of every word that Ommony uttered. (You can make your word worth more than Government paper at the end of twenty years if you try hard enough.) A govern- ment refusing to believe the reports of its own best forester—that was humor. They cackled. A forester knows everything, or should. If he doesn’t, the trees will make him so lonely that he will go mad, and from madness to the devil is only one step. “Will the government send troops to protect your house?” they asked. “T hope not,”’ said Ommony. “Then, sahib, we must mount a guard to make sure the Hindus do not come and take the guns away.” “When do you begin?” asked Ommony. They whispered again. This time they were longer reaching a decision, but they did not lower their voices much, and Om- mony could easily have overheard if he had cared to. Obvious cutthroats though they were, they were rather like children playing at secrets in front of their nurse. “Will you tell your Government?”’ the red- bearded one asked at last. “Certainly,” said Ommony. “Ah! Then we will not answer.” “All right. My servants will give you food,” said Ommony, by way of dismissing them. But they had not quite finished. . “Will you report on this interview?” “Of course,”’ said Ommony. “We do not guarantee the messenger’s . life!”’ “T will be the messenger. I myself will walk to the station and send a tar,” * answered Ommony. Humor appealed to all three of them again simultaneously. They cackled. “The sahib will weary himself in vain. The wire is cut!” Ommony raised his eyebrows. “The babu will send my message by the next train,” he answered. “The babu, who was a Hindu and would not recant, is dead of a cut throat,” said * Telegram. ecomicbooks (E@)