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Chapter Seventeen. Pangsha Burns |
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Mills and Williams, taking up a position between the three khel, direct all further operations, and since the village is doomed, our porters and scouts beg for permission to loot. Jubilantly they throw themselves on the deserted streets, on the empty, fated houses. A spear flies through the air and hits a squeaking pig; the head of a cow falls under the mighty stroke of a dao; the last pieces of furniture are brought out of the houses, and one or two forgotten ornaments. Even Chingmak, generally so dignified and calm, I see venting his furious rage on a perfectly innocent rice-basket, slashing it from end to end. In his boldest dreams he had probably never dared to hope that he would one day plunder the almighty Pangsha. |
