Knowing that we Hindoos hold the cow a sacred beast, they do this sacrilege--and why?
They would make us bite the cartridges and lose our caste.

And why again?
Because they would make us Christians! That is the truth! Else why are the Christian missionaries here in Howrah ?" The listeners would nod while the little red fires glowed and purred above the pipes, and others not included in the circle strained forward through the dark to listen.
"The gods get ready now! Are ye ready ?" Elsewhere, a hadji--green-turbaned from the pilgrimage to Mecca--would hold out to a throng of true believers.
"Ay! Pig's fat on the cartridges! The new drill is that the sepoy bites the cartridge first, to spill a little powder and make priming.

Which true believer wishes to defile himself with pig's fat?
Why do they this?
Why are the Christian missionaries here?
Ask both riddles with one breath, for both two are one!" "Slay, then!" "Up now, and slay!" There would be an instant, eager restlessness, while Ali Partab would glance over to where the horses stood, and would wonder why the word that loosed him was so long in coming.

The hadji would calm his listeners and tell them to get ready, but be still and await the sign.
"There were to be one hundred years, ran the prophecy; but ninety-nine and a portion have yet run.

Wait for the hour!" Then, for perhaps the hundredth time, Ali Partab would pretend that movement alone could save one or other of his horses from heat apoplexy.
He would mount, and ride at a walking pace through the streets that seemed like a night view of a stricken battle-field, turn down by the palace wall, and then canter to the schoolhouse, where the hag--wiser than her mistress--would be sleeping in the open.
"Thou! Mother of a murrain! Toothless one! Is there no word yet ?" The hag would leer up through the heavy darkness--make certain that he had no lance with him with which to prod her in the ribs--scratch herself a time or two like a stray dog half awakened--and then leer knowingly.
"Hast thou the gold mohurs ?" she would demand.
"Am I a sieve ?" "Let my old eyes see them, sahib." He would take out two gold coins and hold them out in such a way that she could look at them without the opportunity to snatch.
"There is no word yet," she would answer, when her eyes had feasted on them as long as his patience would allow.
"Have they no fear then ?" "None.