The Washington herald., 1914-09-20

and withered and gray
Matun, the old blind bsggar. he gives
good worth for his paw.
Rouse him at noon in the bushes. fol-
low and press him hard
Not for his ragings and rOarings finch
ye from Adam-Zad.
But Cpay. and put back the bandage)
this is the time to fear.
When he stands up like tired man.
totterinG near and near:
When he stands up as pleading. in waver-
ing, man-brute guise,
When he wells the hate and cunning of
the little, swinish eyes;
When he shows as seeking quarter, with
paws like hands in prayer.
That is the time Of peril-the time Of the
Truce of the Bear!'
Eyeless, noseIess. and Iipless. asking a
dole at the door,
Matun, the old blind beggar, he tells II
Fumbling and feeling the rifles, warming
his hands at the flame,
Hearing our careless white men talk Of
the morrOw's game;
Over and over the story. ending as he
began
There is no truce with Adam-zad, the
Bear that looks like a man."
THE GRAVE OF THE HUNDRED
There's a widow in sleepy Chester
Who weeps for her only son:
There's a grave on the Pabeng River,
A grave that the Burmans shun.
And there's Subadar Prag Tewarri
Who tells how the work was done
A Snider squibbed in the jungle
Somebody laughed and fed,
And the men Of the First Shikaris
Picked up their Subaltern dead,
No. hn Il aWah hH FFaWsaH Haara
And the back blown out Of his head.
Subadar Prag Tewarrl,
Jemadar Hira Lal.
Took command Of the party,
Twenty rifles in all:
Marched them down to the river
As the day was beginning to fall
They buried the boy by the river.
A blanket over his face
They wept for their dead Lieutenant,
The man Of an alien race
They made a samadh in his honor.
a mark for his resting place.
For they swore by the Holy Water,
They swore by the salt they ate,
That the soul of Lieut. Eshmitt Sahib
Should go to his God in state;
With fifty file of Burman
To open him Heavens gate.
The men of the First Shlkaris
Marched till the break Of day,
Till they came to the rebel village,
The village OF Pabengmay-
A iingal covered the clearing.
Calthrops hampered the way.
subadar Prag Tewarri.
Bidding them load with ball,
Halted a dozen rifles
Under the village-wall;
Sent out a fianking party
With Jemadar Hira Lal.
The men Of the First ShIkaris
Shouted and smote and slew,
Turning the grinning jingal
On TO the bowling crew.
The Jemadar's hanking-party
Butchered the folk who few,
Long was the morn Of slaughter,
Long was the list of slain
Five score heads were taken
Five score heads and twain;
And the men OF the First Shikaris
Went back to their grave again;
Each man bearing a basket
Red as his palms that day,
Red as the blazing village
The village of Pabengmay.
And the "drip-drip-drip" from the bas-
Reddened the grass by the way.
They made a pile of their trophies
| High as a tall mans chin,
Head upon head distorted
CIinched in a sightless grin.
Anger and pain and terror
Writ on the smoke-scorched sktn.a
| Subadar Prag Tewarri
Set the head of the Bob
| On the top Of the mound of triumph
The head of his son below,
| With the sword and the peacock-banner
That the world might behold and know
Thus the samadh was perfect
Thus was the lesson plain
| OF the wrath of the First Shikaris-
The price of q white man slain;
And the men of the First Shikaris
Went back into camp again.
| Then a silence came to the river
A hush fell over the shore
And the Bohs that were brave departed
And Sniders squibbed no more;
For the Burmans said
That a kullah's head
Must be paid for with heads five score
There's a widow in sleepy Chester
Who weeps for her only son;
| There's a grave on the Pabeng River
A grave that the Burmans shun,
And there's Subadar Prag Tewarn
| Who tells how the work WAS done