THE IRRIGATION AGE. 



307 



of those peoples whose ancestry 

 have made their homes for centur- 

 ies and generations beneath the 

 scorching suns of the tropics. His 

 nose was like the beak of an aged 

 eagle, while his small, black, resfc- 

 less eyes glistened nervously be- 

 neath shaggy brows. In his right 

 hand he carried a greasy red and 

 yellow turban, removed from his 

 head in deference to the court. 



"Well, officer," said the court, 

 merely glancing at the trembling 

 culprit, and resuming the brisk 

 brusqueness that was his habitu- 

 ally, "What have we here? What's 

 the trouble with the aged one:"' 



"Yer honor," rattled off Officer 

 Doherty, "This mon was stoppin' 

 iviry wan on Sthate street an' was 

 bumpin' thim fer th' coin an' I 

 copped him. I think the ould mon 

 is a habitou of Wan Lung's jint 

 that was closed up lasht wake." 



"Most high and noble Judge, 

 learned arbitrator of the disputes 

 of man, the blue- coated minion doth 

 me wrong," spoke the prisoner. 

 Canst I be heard, most noble judge, 

 for my cause? 



On receiving the assent of the 

 court, coupled with the admonition 

 that "Time is money," the old man 

 spoke as follows: 



"It is mete, most mighty judge, 

 that I should recount to your wise 

 and learned ear the wonderful story 

 of my life. Know then, that I am 

 Omar Kyanyan, son of Indaranth 

 Kyanyan, the great ruler and mah- 

 arajah of Sanganphore in India, 

 and last in power of a dynasty that 

 traces its lineage to the time when 

 the leaves first turned green, when 



even the sacred Veddas of our loved 

 land were young, and Bramah him- 

 self, in form of man, meditated on 

 the mountain tops and in the for- 

 ests of Hindostan. One hundred 

 and forty years ago my mother 

 brought me forth in the diamond - 

 studded and gold-cealed room of 

 the maharajans. Early I studied 

 and learned of the magi and of 

 them was taught the mystic, occult 

 symbols of the brotherhood. Great- 

 ness was mine by birth and happi- 

 ness by attainment, for on reaching 

 the lusty season of manhood I clove 

 as the wild fowl to his mate to Ir- 

 myrallis, the beautiful, known as 

 the "forest flower," daughter of the 

 rajah of Bengal. But greatness 

 and happiness were brief. The 

 hated scarlet-coated warriors of 

 the Woman of the West took from 

 me my domain. This I could have 

 suffered and borne, but when they 

 dishonored my sacred religion, and 

 a scoundrel they called "Sergeant 

 Brick," because his hair was the 

 color of the clay, baked long and 

 hard in the heat of the great fires, 

 tore my "Forest Flower" from my 

 arms, I joined my cause with those 

 who swore to rid our land of the 

 hated hirelings who carried the 

 death-dealing missiles immersed in 

 the grease of the condemned, un- 

 clean swine." 



' 'Your tale, I must admit, is some- 

 what interesting" interrupted the 

 judge, "but it is stringing out un- 

 usually long for Harrison street 

 station. Can't you get to the point ?" 



"Yes, sahib most honored and 

 O, most noble Judge, thou hast 

 spoken wisdom, and thy words drop 



