The adventures of Michael [antikvár]

CHAPTER Ia parcel and an accidentOn a dusty road, flanked here and there by thatched, mud-walled huts and palm trees, an Indian dak wallah, or postman, travelled at a steady jog-trot ; his heavily laden postbag, suspended from a stick over his left shoulder, dangled in mid-air behind him, joggling up and down as he ran. A little tinkling bell attached to his wrist heralded his approach, and brought the dark-skinned inhabitants from the smoky interiors of their mud dwellings to gaze in idle curiosity, or to hurl good-natured banter to speed him on his way. To-day, judging by the bulky appearance of the postbag, it was obvious that he carried the mails from Belait, England ; therefore it would be a happy day for the white sahibs, and perchance an extra rupee for Ramjee, the postman, to spend in the village market wThen he returned at the setting of the sun." That, at least, will be something to look forward to," thought the village confectioner, sitting idly in his doorway.7