and the Donga Pa. Madu had stacked the dry wood for the next day's
charcoal-burning on the spur above his house. 'It is courteous in Madu
to save us this trouble,' said Suket Singh as he stumbled on the pile,
which was twelve foot square and four high. 'We must wait till the moon
rises.'

When the moon rose, Athira knelt upon the pile. 'If it were only a
Government Snider,' said Suket Singh ruefully, squinting down the wire-
bound barrel of the Forest Ranger's gun.

'Be quick,' said Athira; and Suket Singh was quick; but Athira was quick
no longer. Then he lit the pile at the four corners and climbed on to
it, re-loading the gun.

The little flames began to peer up between the big logs atop of the
brushwood. 'The Government should teach us to pull the triggers with our
toes,' said Suket Singh grimly to the moon. That was the last public
observation of Sepoy Suket Singh.

Upon a day, early in the morning, Madu came to the pyre and shrieked
very grievously, and ran away to catch the Policeman who was on tour in
the district.

'The base-born has ruined four rupees' worth of charcoal wood,' Madu
gasped. 'He has also killed my wife, and he has left a letter which I
cannot read, tied to a pine bough.'

In the stiff, formal hand taught in the regimental school, Sepoy Suket
Singh had written--