Have patience, Father." (Aye, he called me
father when none were by.) "This war ends not to-morrow nor the next day.
I have seen the new Sahibs," he said, "and they are fathers of owls--all--
all--all!"
So we went to Eshtellenbosch, where the horses are; Kurban Sahib doing the
service of servants in that business. And the whole business was managed
without forethought by new Sahibs from God knows where, who had never seen
a tent pitched or a peg driven. They were full of zeal, but empty of all
knowledge. Then came, little by little from Hind, those Pathans--they are
just like those vultures up there, Sahib--they always follow slaughter.
And there came to Eshtellenbosch some Sikhs--Muzbees, though--and some
Madras monkey-men. They came with horses. Puttiala sent horses. Jhind and
Nabha sent horses. All the nations of the Khalsa sent horses.
All the ends of the earth sent horses. God knows what the army did with
them, unless they ate them raw. They used horses as a courtesan uses oil:
with both hands. These needed many men. Kurban Sahib appointed me to the
command (what a command for me!) of certain woolly ones--_Hubshis_--whose
touch and shadow are pollution. They were enormous eaters; sleeping on
their bellies; laughing without cause; wholly like animals. Some were
called Fingoes, and some, I think, Red Kaffirs, but they were all Kaffirs
--filth unspeakable. I taught them to water and feed, and sweep and rub
down.
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