is a very holy man. He never cares what you eat so long as you do
not eat beef, and that is good, because on land we worship Shiva, we
Kharvas; but at sea on the Kumpani's boats we attend strictly to the
orders of the Burra Malum [the first mate], and on this bridge we
observe what Finlinson Sahib says."

Finlinson Sahib had that day given orders to clear the scaffolding from
the guard-tower on the right bank, and Peroo with his mates was casting
loose and lowering down the bamboo poles and planks as swiftly as ever
they had whipped the cargo out of a coaster.

From his trolley he could hear the whistle of the serang's silver pipe
and the creek and clatter of the pulleys. Peroo was standing on the
top-most coping of the tower, clad in the blue dungaree of his abandoned
service, and as Findlayson motioned to him to be careful, for his was
no life to throw away, he gripped the last pole, and, shading his eyes
ship-fashion, answered with the long-drawn wail of the fo'c'sle lookout:
"Ham dekhta hai" ("I am looking out").

Findlayson laughed and then sighed. It was years since he had seen
a steamer, and he was sick for home. As his trolley passed under the
tower, Peroo descended by a rope, ape-fashion, and cried: "It looks well
now, Sahib. Our bridge is all but done. What think you Mother Gunga will
say when the rail runs over?"

"She has said little so far. It was never Mother Gunga that delayed us."

"There is always time for her; and none the less there has been delay.
Has the Sahib forgotten last autumn's flood, when the stone-boats were
sunk without warning--or only a half-day's warning?"