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Kipling, Rudyard, 1865-1936

"From Mine Own People"

I was a good deal impressed by this, to me,
novel method of securing food, and complimented Gunga Dass on his skill.
"It is nothing to do," said he. "Tomorrow you must do it for me. You are
stronger than I am."
This calm assumption of superiority Upset me not a little, and I answered
peremptorily;--"Indeed, you old ruffian! What do you think I have given you
money for?"
"Very well," was the unmoved reply. "Perhaps not tomorrow, nor the day after,
nor subsequently; but in the end, and for many years, you will catch crows and
eat crows, and you will thank your European God that you have crows to catch
and eat."
I could have cheerfully strangled him for this; but judged it best under the
circumstances to smother my resentment. An hour later I was eating one of the
crows; and, as Gunga Dass had said, thanking my God that I had a crow to eat.
Never as long as I live shall I forget that evening meal. The whole population
were squatting on the hard sand platform opposite their dens, huddled over
tiny fires of refuse and dried rushes. Death, having once laid his hand upon
these men and forborne to strike, seemed to stand aloof from them now; for
most of our company were old men, bent and worn and twisted with years, and
women aged to all appearance as the Fates themselves.


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