said the Adjutant coolly . `` Big thief and little thief ; it is easy to say who gets the pickings . '' The Jackal turned , whining impatiently , and was going to curl himself up under the tree-trunk , when suddenly he cowered , and looked up through the draggled branches at the bridge almost above his head . `` What now ? '' said the Adjutant , opening his wings uneasily . `` Wait till we see . The wind blows from us to them , but they are not looking for us -- those two men . '' `` Men , is it ? My office protects me . All India knows I am holy . '' The Adjutant , being a first-class scavenger , is allowed to go where he pleases , and so this one never flinched . `` I am not worth a blow from anything better than an old shoe , '' said the Jackal , and listened again . `` Hark to that footfall ! '' he went on . `` That was no country leather , but the shod foot of a white-face . Listen again ! Iron hits iron up there ! It is a gun ! Friend , those heavy-footed , foolish English are coming to speak with the Mugger . '' `` Warn him , then .
He was called Protector of the Poor by some one not unlike a starving XXXXX but a little time ago . ''
Adjutant English India Jackal Men Mugger branches pickings tree-trunk white-face