It is a fine haul . I wish Hurree could know ... The rest must go out of the window . ' He fingered a superb prismatic compass and the shiny top of a theodolite . But after all , a Sahib can not very well steal , and the things might be inconvenient evidence later . He sorted out every scrap of manuscript , every map , and the native letters . They made one softish slab . The three locked ferril-backed books , with five worn pocket-books , he put aside . ` The letters and the murasla I must carry inside my coat and under my belt , and the hand-written books I must put into the food-bag . It will be very heavy . No . I do not think there is anything more . If there is , the coolies have thrown it down the khud , so thatt is all right . Now you go too . ' He repacked the kilta with all he meant to lose , and hove it up on to the windowsill . A thousand feet below lay a long , lazy , round-shouldered bank of mist , as yet untouched by the morning sun . A thousand feet below that was a hundred-year-old pine-forest . He could see the green tops looking like a bed of moss when a wind-eddy thinned the cloud . ` No ! I do n't think any one will go after you ! ' The wheeling basket vomited its contents as it dropped .
The XXXXX hit a jutting cliff-ledge and exploded like a shell ; the books , inkstands , paint-boxes , compasses , and rulers showed for a few seconds like a swarm of bees .
Hurree Sahib coolies food-bag kilta murasla pocket-books sun theodolite windowsill