him with a coir-swab and a
brick. Moti Guj never mistook the pounding blow of the latter for the
smack of the former that warned him to get up and turn over on the
other side. Then Deesa would look at his feet, and examine his eyes,
and turn up the fringes of his mighty ears in case of sores or
budding ophthalmia. After inspection, the two would 'come up with a
song from the sea,' Moti Guj all black and shining, waving a torn
tree branch twelve feet long in his trunk, and Deesa knotting up his
own long wet hair.

It was a peaceful, well-paid life till Deesa felt the return of the
desire to drink deep. He wished for an orgie. The little draughts
that led nowhere were taking the manhood out of him.

He went to the planter, and 'My mother's dead,' said he, weeping.

'She died on the last plantation two months ago; and she died once
before that when you were working for me last year,' said the
planter, who knew something of the ways of nativedom.

'Then it's my aunt, and she was just the same as a mother to me,'
said Deesa, weeping more than ever. 'She has left eighteen small
children entirely without bread, and it is I who must fill their
little stomachs,' said Deesa, beating his head on the floor.

'Who brought you the news?' said the planter. 'The post,' said
Deesa.

'There hasn't been a post here for the past week. Get back to your
lines!'

'A devastating sickness has fallen on my village, and all my wives
are dying,' yelled Deesa, really in tears this time. 'Call Chihun,
who comes from Deesa's village,' said the planter. 'Chihun, has this
man a wife?'

'He!' said Chihun. 'No. Not a woman of our village would look at him.
They'd sooner marry the elephant.' Chihun snorted. Deesa wept and
bellowed.

'You will get into a difficulty in a minute,' said the planter. 'Go
back to your work!'

'Now I will speak Heaven's truth,' gulped Deesa, with an inspiration.
'I haven't been drunk for two months. I desire to depart in order to
get properly drunk afar off and distant from this heavenly
plantation. Thus I shall cause no trouble.'

A flickering smile crossed the planter's face. 'Deesa,' said he,
'you've spoken the truth, and I'd give you leave on the spot if
anything could be done with Moti Guj while you're away. You know that
he will only obey your orders.'

'May the Light of the Heavens live forty thousand years. I shall be
absent but ten little days. After that, upon my faith and honour and
soul, I return.