or other; the men and women had dragged the fragments on to the
platform and were preparing their normal meal. Gunga Dass
cooked mine. The almost irresistible impulse to fly at the sand
walls until I was wearied laid hold of me afresh, and I had to
struggle against it with all my might. Gunga Dass was offensively
jocular till I told him that if he addressed another remark of any
kind whatever to me I should strangle him where he sat. This
silenced him till silence became insupportable, and I bade him say
something.

"You will live here till you die like the other Feringhi," he said,
coolly, watching me over the fragment of gristle that he was
gnawing.

"What other Sahib, you swine? Speak at once, and don't stop to
tell me a lie."

"He is over there," answered Gunga Dass, pointing to a
burrow-mouth about four doors to the left of my own. "You can
see for yourself. He died in the burrow as you will die, and I will
die, and as all these men and women and the one child will also
die."

"For pity's sake tell me all you know about him. Who was he?
When did he come, and when did he die?"

This appeal was a weak step on my part. Gunga Dass only leered
and replied: "I will not--unless you give me something first."

Then I recollected where I was, and struck the man between the