scoundrels,” roared the Jemadar, “does not the poor boy lie dead in the sugar-cane field, and is not his highness the Thanadar coming to hold an inquest upon it? and do you take us for fools enough to believe that any scoundrel among you would venture to commit a deliberate murder without being aided and abetted by all the rest?” The village watchman began to feel some apprehension that he had been too precipitate; and entreated the Jemadar to go first and see the body of the boy.  “What do you take us for,” said the Jemadar, “a thing without a stomach?  Do you suppose that government servants can live and labour on air?  Are we to go and examine bodies upon empty stomachs?  Let his father take care of the body, and let these murdering shopkeepers provide us something to eat.”  Nine rupees’ worth of sweetmeats, and materials for a feast were forthwith collected at the expense of the shopkeepers, who stood bound, and waiting the arrival of his highness the Thanadar, who was soon after seen approaching majestically upon a richly caparisoned horse.  “What,” said the Jemadar, “is there nobody to go and receive his highness in due form?” One of the shopkeepers was untied, and presented with fifteen rupees by his family, and those of the other shopkeepers.  These he took up and presented to his highness, who deigned to receive them through one of his train, and then dismounted and partook of the feast that had been provided.  “Now”, said his highness, “we will go and hold an inquest on the body of the poor boy”; and off moved all the great functionaries of government to the sugar-cane field, with the village watchman leading the way.  The father of the boy met them as they entered, and was pointed out by the village watchman.  “Where”, said the Thanadar, “is your poor boy?” “There,” said Madari, “cutting the canes.”  “How, cutting the canes?  Was he not murdered by the shopkeepers?” “No,” said Madari, “he was beaten by Girdhari, and richly deserved it!  I find.”  Girdhari and the boy were called up, and the little urchin said that he called out murder merely to prevent Girdhari from giving him another clout on the side of the head.  His father was then fined nine rupees for giving a false alarm, and Girdhari fifteen for so unmercifully beating the boy; and they were made to pay on the instant, under the penalty of all being sent off forty miles to the magistrate.  Having thus settled this very important affair, his highness the Thanadar walked back to the shop, ordered all the shopkeepers to be set at liberty, smoked his pipe, mounted his horse, and rode home, followed by all his police officers, and well pleased with his day’s work.’