“Tell me, Juggut Khan,” he said after another minute’s thought, “what is your idea?  Is this sporadic?  Is this a local outbreak?  Will this die down, if left to burn itself out?”

The Rajput laughed aloud.

“`Sporadic,"’ he answered, “is a word of which I have yet to learn the meaning.  If `sporadic’ means rebellion from Peshawur to Cape Cormorin—­revolution, rape, massacre, arson, high treason, torture, death to every European and every half-breed and every loyal native north, south, east and west—­then, yes, General sahib, `sporadic’ would be the proper word.  If your Honor should mean less than that, then some other word is needed!”

“Then you confirm my own opinion.  You are inclined to think that this is an organized and country-wide rebellion?”

“I know of what I speak, sahib!”

“You don’t think that you are being influenced in your opinion by the fact that you have seen a massacre, and have lost everything you had?”

“Nay, sahib!  This is no hour for joking, or for bearing of false tidings.  I tell you, up, sahib!  Boots and saddles!  Strike!”

The general chewed at his mustache another minute.

“You know this province well?” he asked.

“None better than I. I have traversed every yard of it, attending to my business.”

“And your business is?”

“Each to his trade, sahib.  My trade is honorable.”

“I have good reasons for asking, and no impertinence is meant.  Be good enough to tell me.  I wish to know what value I may place on your opinion.”

“Sahib, I am a full sergeant of the Rajput Horse retired.  I bear one medal.”

“And—­”

“I sell charms, sahib.”

“What sort of charms?”

“All sorts.  But principally charms against the evil eye, and the red sickness, and death by violence.  But, also love-charms now and then, and now and then a death-charm to a man who has an enemy and lacks swordsmanship or courage.  I trade with each and every man, sahib, and listen to the talk of each, and hold my tongue!”

“Strange trade for a soldier, isn’t it?”

“Would you have me a robber, sahib?  Or shall I sweep the streets—­ I, who have led a troop before now?  Nay, sahib!  A soldier can fight, and can do little else.  When the day comes that the Raj has no more need of him—­or thinks that it has no more need of him—­he must either starve or become a prophet.  And his own home is no place for a prophet who would turn his prophesying into silver coin!”

“Ah!  Well-now, tell me!  What is your opinion, without reference to what anybody else may think?  You have just seen the massacre at Jailpore, and you know how many men I have here.  And you know the condition of the road and the number of the mutineers.  Would you, if you were in my place, strike at Jailpore immediately?”