The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1894-05-25
A LOYAL HINDOO.

La O44S bSo1S4i1hE HULL LII
midsummer. / was in want of a kit
mutgar, and he seemed to have nothing
to do. He could not speak one word of
English, and, to tell the truth, that was
the first and only recommendation upon
which l engaged him.
In religion he was a Mussulman, but
he was far from being devout. Indeed /
very soon rated him as rather below the
average in everything. However, as /
did not require anything remarkable,
we got IN well enough to the end, for
he followed me, poor fellow, to his death.
Steal? Most decidedly. He would in
variably steal anything belonging to me
that attracted his fancy. If I discovered
it and went about it in the right way, l
could usually get it back.
Salad never left me for an hour from
the time he entered my service. He fol-
lowed me all day and slept on a rug at
my door OF lay on the sand at my feet
or just outside my tent at night, as the
case might be, and he received just as
many lectures on veracity and made just
as many promises as the time allowed,
but I am sure that he told me just as
many lies the last week of his life as he
did the first week he was with me. It is
as much the nature of the oriental to lie
and steal as it is of a dog to bark at a
horse or Of a cat to help herself to
cream.
One who expects too much is apt TO
give credit for too little. That may be
the reason the Hindoo has such a bad
reputation in the minds of some who
mean to be just, or eve generous. Many
a good turn Salad did me right in the
line Of those two traits. 1t takes a
rogue to catch a rogue, and I know that
he saved me from being robbed by 9TH
ers many times over for all that he took
himself, while he would detect a lie in
what any one else told me as quickly as
a negro boy in old Virgin would spot a
ripe watermelon.
We were marching through the Terai
ono with a small detachment. A sol
dier was leading my horse, while I
walked upon one side of the path, fol
lowed at a little distance by Salad,
hunting for a bird I had shot and which
had fallen in the tall grass. Suddenly
there was a cry from those behind. I
looked quickly over my shoulder. A
hooded cobra, disturbed by the commo-
ton I was making, had risen out of the
grass just behind me. His fiat head and
faring hood were already thrown back
for a final fling at me. His half open
mouth was within three feet of my face
when my eyes rested upon it. If I turn
ed, I should only expose more of my
face. If I lifted a hand, he would strike
it quicker than lightning. There was no
chance to get away, and I was utterly
helpless.
Before I had time to think a second
thought, however, Salad made one leap
from where he was standing, and be-
fore his feet had touched the ground he
had brought his staff about with a sharp
whir as it cut the air, too quick even
for a snake to dodge, and the next in
slant the cobra's body wa writing in
the grass, while his head, completely
severed, fell at my feet.
Had Salad waited an instant he would
have been too late. No one else could
have reached me, yet if he had missed
his aim or the snake had lodged his
own life would have paid the forfeit.
No one knew it better than Salad, but
he took the chance and saved my life.
He had in his girdle at the time a bright
colored silk handkerchief which he had
stolen from me, and only that morning
had solemnly declared that he knew
nothing about it.
Up in the hills one afternoon I was ly-
ing on a low tent bed taking a nap,
when Salad say a poisonous insect, a
kind of scorpion, crawling over my pill
low. He had nothing near to use as a
weapon and no time to lose. He caught
it in his naked hand and threw it out of
the tent door. 1 woke in time to see it
flying through the air, and hurrying out
killed it before it got away.
(. I called to Salad to ask if he had es-
capped a sting, and receiving a cheerful
reply in the affirmative thought no
more about it till, CHANGING to enter the
tent softly and Unexpectedly, I found
him sucking the back of his right hand
for dear life. He stopped the instant he
saw me and put the hand behind him.
The poison had already begun to take
effect. The hand and arm were swell
ing, and before long Salad was lying on
the floor writhing in agony. The only
antidotes I had were ammonia and whis-
Ky. Salad knew the contents of both
bottles, for he had the care of all my
traps. I did my best for him with the
ammonia, but utterly in vain i pleaded,
begged, commanded that he take the
whisky. He would not touch it.
Why? Only because he was a Mussul-
a No matter how intense his agony
or determined my command he put his
well hand over his mouth and shook his
head. He felt sure that he was dying,
and he believed my assertion that the
whisky might save him, but that made
no difference. He came SO near to death
that he was past seeing anything and
beyond hearing. He lay upon the ground,
just breathing, painting, as though he
was almost at the end. It seemed useless