"And Lucknow?" he asked.
"The Residency holds out at present, but men say that it must soon
fall."
"And what do you say?"
"I say nothing," the man said; "we cannot use our art in matters
which concern ourselves."
"And Delhi?"
"There is a little force of whites in front of Delhi; there are
tens of thousands of Sepoys in the town, but as yet the whites
have maintained themselves. The chiefs of the Punjaub have proved
faithless to their country, and there the British rule is maintained."
"Thank God for that!" Bathurst exclaimed; "as long as the Punjaub
holds out the tables may be turned. And the other Presidencies?"
"Nothing as yet," Rujub said, in a tone of discontent.
"Then you are against us, Rujub?"
The man stopped.
"Sahib, I know not what I wish now. I have been brought up to hate
the whites. Two of my father's brothers were hung as Thugs, and
my father taught me to hate the men who did it. For years I have
worked quietly against you, as have most of those of my craft. We
have reason to hate you. In the old times we were honored in the
land--honored and feared; for even the great ones knew that we
had powers such as no other men have. But the whites treat us as
if we were mere buffoons, who play for their amusement; they make
no distinction between the wandering conjurer, with his tricks of
dexterity, and the masters, who have powers that have been handed
down from father to son for thousands of years, who can communicate
with each other though separated by the length of India; who can,
as you have seen, make men invisible; who can read the past and
the future.
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