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Kipling, Rudyard, 1865-1936

"From Mine Own People"

He had never attempted to escape in the face
of the rifle-fire from the boat.
I pushed the corpse out hastily, and saw it sink from sight literally in a few
seconds. I shuddered as I watched. In a dazed, half-conscious way I turned to
peruse the notebook. A stained and discolored slip of paper bad been inserted
between the binding and the back, and dropped out as I opened the pages. This
is what it contained:--"Four out from crow-clump: three left; nine out; two
right; three back; two left; fourteen out; two left; seven out; one left; nine
back; two right; six back; four right; seven back." The paper had been burned
and charred at the edges. What it meant I could not understand. I sat down on
the dried bents turning it over and over between my fingers, until I was aware
of Gunga Dass standing immediately behind me with glowing eyes and
outstretched hands.
"Have you got it?" he panted. "Will you not let me look at it also? I swear
that I will return it."
"Got what? Return what?" asked.
"That which you have in your hands. It will help us both." He stretched out
his long, bird-like talons, trembling with eagerness.
"I could never find it," he continued. "He had secreted it about his person.
Therefore I shot him, but nevertheless I was unable to obtain it.


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