His name was Girdhari, I think, and
the boy who was cutting it for him was the son of a poor man called
Madari. Girdhari wanted to have the cane cut down as near as he could
to the ground, while the boy, to save himself the trouble of
stooping, would persist in cutting it a good deal too high up. After
admonishing him several times, the shopkeeper gave him a smart clout
on the head. The boy, to prevent a repetition, called out, "Murder!
Girdhari has killed me--Girdhari has killed me!" His old father, who
was at work carrying away the cane at a little distance out of sight,
ran off to the village watchman, and, in his anger, told him that
Girdhari had murdered his son. The watchman went as fast as he could
to the Thanadar, or head police officer of the division, who resided
some miles distant. The Thanadar ordered off his subordinate officer,
the Jemadar, with half a dozen policemen, to arrange everything for
an inquest on the body, by the time he should reach the place, with
all due pomp. The Jemadar went to the house of the murderer, and
dismounting, ordered all the shopkeepers of the village, who were
many and respectable, to be forthwith seized, and bound hand and
feet.
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