My only means of escape from the semicircle was protected with a
quicksand!
How long I lay I have not the faintest idea; but I was roused at last
by the malevolent chuckle of Gunga Dass at my ear "I would
advise you, Protector of the Poor" (the ruffian was speaking
English) "to return to your house. It is unhealthy to lie down here.
Moreover, when the boat returns, you will most certainly be rifled
at." He stood over me in the dim light of the dawn, chuckling and
laughing to himself. Suppressing my first impulse to catch the
man by the neck and throw him on to the quicksand, I rose sullenly
and followed him to the platform below the burrows.
Suddenly, and futilely as I thought while I spoke, I asked: "Gunga
Dass, what is the good of the boat if I can't get out _anyhow_?" I
recollect that even in my deepest trouble I had been speculating
vaguely on the waste of ammunition in guarding an already well
protected foreshore.
Gunga Dass laughed again and made answer: "They have the boat
only in daytime. It is for the reason that _there is a way_.
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