Besides, Brown was a strange individual who detested swearing, and
it was a very useful thing, and wise, to humor him. He had a way
of his own, and usually got it.

Brown posted a sentry at the hut-door, and another at the crossroads
which he was to guard, then went round behind the but to bargain
with the goatskin-merchant. But he stopped before he reached the tree.

"Boy!" he called, and a low-caste native servant came toward him
at a run.

"Is that fakir there still?"

"Ha, sahib!"

"Ha? Can't you learn to say `yes,' like a human being?"

"Yes, sahib!"

"All right. I'm going to have a talk with him. Kill the goat, and
tell the Punjabi to wait, if he wants to buy the skin."

"Ha, sahib!"

Brown spun round on his heel, and the servant wilted.

"Yes, sahib!" he corrected.

Brown left him then, with a nod that conveyed remission of cardinal
sin, and a warning not to repeat the offence. As the native ran