"I believe you robbed him of everything he had. But I can find out in a minute
or two. How long was the Sahib here?"
"Nearly a year and a half. I think he must have gone mad. But hear me swear,
Protector of the Poor! Won't Your Honor hear me swear that I never touched an
article that belonged to him? What is Your Worship going to do?"
I had taken Gunga Dass by the waist and had hauled him on to the platform
opposite the deserted burrow. As I did so I thought of my wretched fellow-
prisoner's unspeakable misery among all these horrors for eighteen months, and
the final agony of dying like a rat in a hole, with a bullet-wound in the
stomach. Gunga Dass fancied I was going to kill him and howled pitifully. The
rest of the population, in the plethora that follows a full flesh meal,
watched us without stirring.
"Go inside, Gunga Dass," said I, "and fetch it out."
I was feeling sick and faint with horror now. Gunga Dass nearly rolled off the
platform and howled aloud.
"But I am Brahmin, Sahib--a high-caste Brahmin. By your soul, by your father's
soul, do not make me do this thing!"
"Brahmin or no Brahmin, by my soul and my father's soul, in you go!" I said,
and, seizing him by the shoulders, I crammed his head into the mouth of the
burrow, kicked the rest of him in, and, sitting down, covered my face with my
hands.
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