"I stayed in Ghorband a month, and gave the Governor there the pick of my
baskets for hush-money, and bribed the Colonel of the regiment some more, and,
between the two and the tribes-people, we got more than a hundred hand-made
Martinis, a hundred good Kohat Jezails that'll throw to six hundred yards, and
forty man--loads of very bad ammunition for the rifles. I came back with what
I had, and distributed 'em among the men that the Chiefs sent in to me to
drill. Dravot was too busy to attend to those things, but the old Army that we
first made helped me, and we turned out five hundred men that could drill, and
two hundred that knew how to hold arms pretty straight. Even those cork-
screwed, hand-made guns was a miracle to them. Dravot talked big about powder-
shops and factories, walking up and down in the pine wood when the winter was
coming on.
"'I won't make a Nation,' says he. 'I'll make an Empire! These men aren't
niggers; they're English! Look at their eyes--look at their mouths. Look at
the way they stand up. They sit on chairs in their own houses. They're the
Lost Tribes, or something like it, and they've grown to be English. I'll take
a census in the spring if the priests don't get frightened. There must be a
fair two million of 'em in these hills.
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