They were covered with
clotted blood mixed with sand, which had hardened like cement over the
locks and various portions of the barrels. My guns were all marked. As I
looked at the numbers upon the stocks, I repeated aloud the names of the
owners. "Are they all dead?" I asked. "All dead," the men replied. "FOOD
FOR THE VULTURES?" I asked. "None of the bodies can be recovered,"
faltered my vakeel. "The two guns were brought from the spot by some
natives who escaped, and who saw the men fall. They are all killed."
"Better for them had they remained with me and done their duty. The hand
of God is heavy," I replied. My men slunk away abashed, leaving the gory
witnesses of defeat and death upon the ground. I called Saat and ordered
him to give the two guns to Richarn to clean.
Not only my own men but the whole of Ibrahim's party were of opinion
that I had some mysterious connexion with the disaster that had befallen
my mutineers. All remembered the bitterness of my prophecy, "The
vultures will pick their bones," and this terrible mishap having
occurred so immediately afterwards took a strong hold upon their
superstitious minds. As I passed through the camp, the men would quietly
exclaim, "Wah Illahi Hawaga!" (My God! Master.) To which I simply
replied, "Robinee fe!" (There is a God.
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