Chapter IV: Part 4

"Aw-haw!--to clean up about a cook-house behind a certain place of the Sahib's in which they bottled water of a fierce strength--as I say, being busy in this same compound, I spied many, many twigs of wire."

"What's wire?" asked Mooswa; "I've never, that I know of, eaten such twigs."

Sa'-zada explained, "Kauwa means bottled soda water, I fancy, and the wire from the corks."

"A thought came to me," continued Kauwa, "to build my nest of these bright little things, and I did, first getting my mate's opinion on the matter, of course. Dead Pigs! but it _was_ a nest! We would swing, and jump, and hang to it by our beaks, and never a break in the wall. But I had forgotten all about the selfish desire of the Men--but that was after. The first trouble was when Cuckoo--a proper _budmash_ bird she is--came and laid two eggs in the nest. I saw the difference in the eggs at once, but my mate declared that they were all her own laying. She took rather a pride in her ability to lay eggs--to tell you the truth, we quarreled over it."

"I believe that," yawned Adjutant.

"However, she had her way, and started to hatch out these foreign devils; but the Men, as I have said, seeing my beautiful nest, sent a Man of low caste up the tree, and he took it away, Cuckoo eggs and all. It was a good joke on the Cuckoo Bird, and I was so mad at the way everything turned out, Caw-ha! I never made it again."

"I can swallow a plantain at one gulp," said Hornbill proudly.

"Why do you toss it up first?" asked Sa'-zada, alluding to the peculiar habit the Hornbill has of throwing everything into the air, and catching it as he swallows it.

"It's all in the way of slow eating," answered Hornbill.

"Now," said Myna, "it is surely my turn. I, Myna, who was the pride of the Calcutta Zoo in the matter of speech, have sat here like a Tucktoo not saying a word, and listening to such as Cockatoo boasting about the few paltry oaths he picked up from the Sailor-kind. Why, damn your eyes, sir----"

And before Sa'-zada could still the tumult, Cockatoo and Myna, the best talking Bird of all India, were hurling the most unparliamentary language at each other that had ever been bandied about a Bird gathering.

When Sa'-zada had stopped the indelicate scolding of the two Birds Myna proceeded to tell of his life.

"I was born in the Burma hills, amongst the Shans. That's where I got my beautiful blue-black coat and lovely yellow beak."

"Modest Bird," sneered Magh.

"It was Mah Thin who snared me; but she was good to me, though--rice and fruit, all I could eat; and she never once forgot to put the turmeric and ground chillies in my rice; for, you know, if I did not get something hot in my food I'd soon die. I was somewhat like Cockatoo in that a Ship-man bought me and took me to Calcutta. He made me a most wise bird, and taught me many clever sayings. And when he was in Calcutta with his ship I would be put in the Zoo, so that the Sahibs from all parts might hear my speech.

"One day Tom--that was my master's name; he taught me to call him Tom--said to me, 'To-morrow the _Lat_ Sahib, the Sirdar, and many ladies are coming to hear you talk; Myna.' Then he made me repeat over and over again, 'Good-morning, your Excellency.'"

"It was a hard word he gave you," commented Magh.

"It was indeed. Let claw-nosed Cockatoo try it; he thinks he can talk--let him try that."

"Avast there, you lubber----" commenced Cocky, but Sa'-zada stopped him.

"Well, I said it over and over, and over again, and Tom was so pleased he gave me a graft mango to eat. Next day the Viceroy and many Mem-Sahibs and Sahibs gathered about my cage, and the Viceroy said, 'Good-morning, Polly.' Now this made me mad--to be called Polly, as though I had a hooked nose like Cockatoo; and in my anger I got excited, and, for-the-love-of-hot-spiced-rice, I couldn't think of what Tom had told me to say.

"'Speak up!' said Tom.

"In my anger, and forgetting the other thing, and seeing so many strange faces against the very bars of my cage, I blurted out, 'I'll see you damned first!' just as the sailors used to teach me."

"Caw-haw-haw-haw! Very funny, indeed. Next to a fat bone, or the hiding of a silver spoon, I like a joke myself," commented Kauwa. "Once at the first edge of the Hot Time I went to Simla. That was also at the time of the going of the Sahibs, but after Calcutta it was dull--fair stupid.

"One morning, as I was feeling most lonesome, I spied a long row of queer little Donkeys standing with their tails to a fence. They had brought loads of brick. I flew to the fence, and reaching far down, pulled the tail of my first Donkey. Much food! but he did kick--it made me laugh. I pulled the tail of every Donkey of the line, and when I had finished there wasn't a board left on the fence. Then the Man who was master of the fence, and the one that was master of the Donkeys, fought over this matter, and pulled each about by the feathers that were on their heads. It was the only real pleasant day I had in Simla."

"Did-you-do-it!" screamed the Redwattled Lapwing, suddenly roused to animation by falling off Mooswa's back, where he had been trying to balance himself with his poor front-toed feet.

"Caw-w-w! I did; and for three grains of corn I'd pull your tail, too."

"I wasn't speaking to you," retorted Titiri the Lapwing; "I was dreaming of my old home in India--dreaming that the hunters had come into the rice fields to shoot the poor Paddy Birds and Bakula (Egret) for their feathers."

"Murderers, you should call them, not Hunters," exclaimed Hathi. "It makes me sniff in my nose now when I think of the Birds I've seen murdered, just for their feathers."

"It's an outrageous shame," declared Sa'-zada.

"I did all I could," asserted Lapwing. "When I saw the Gun-men coming, sneaking along, crouched like Pardus----"

"Sneaking like Pardus--go on, Good Bird!" chimed in Magh.

"I flew just ahead of them, and cried 'Tee-he-he! Here come the Murderers!' so that every bird in all the _jhils_ about could hear me. And when Bakula, and Kowar the Ibis, and all the others had flown to safety, I shouted, 'Did-you-do-it, did-you-do-it!' Then the Men used language much like the disgraceful talk we have had from Cocky and Myna to-night."

"You carried a heavy responsibility," remarked Sa'-zada.

"All lies," sneered Kauwa. "Fat Bones! why, he can't even sit on the limb of a tree."

"That is because of my feet," sighed Lapwing. "I have no toes behind."

"Where do you sleep?" asked Magh.

"On the ground," answered Lapwing.

"That's so," declared Sa'-zada, "for the Natives of the East say that Titiri sleeps on his back, and holds up the sky with his feet."

"But why should the Men kill Birds for a few feathers?" croaked Vulture. "I don't believe it. Nobody asked me for one of mine. In fact the great trouble of all eating is the feathers or skin."

"Whe-eh-eh!" exclaimed Ostrich, disgustedly. "Pheu! your feathers! Even your head looks like a boiled Lobster. They do not kill me--the Men--but I know they are crazy for feathers, for they pull mine all out. Some day I'll give one of them a kick that will cure him of his feather fancy. I did rake one from beak to feet once with my strong toe nail. When I bring a foot up over my head and down like this----"

As Ostrich swung his leg every one skurried out of the way, for they knew it was like a sword descending.

"Yes," cried Magh, "if you only had a brain the size of that toe-nail----"

"Stop it!" cried Sa'-zada, for this was an unpleasant truth; Ostrich, though such a huge fellow himself, has a brain about the size of a Humming Bird's.

"Talking of Wives," said Ostrich, with the most extraordinary irrelevance, "mine died when I was twenty-seven years old; and, of course, as it is the way with us Birds, I never took up with another, though I've seen the most beautifully feathered ones of our Kind--quite enough to make one's mouth water.

"She had queer ways, to be sure--my wife. As you all know, our way of hatching eggs is turn about, the Mother Birds sitting all day, while we Lords of the Nest sit at night. But my wife would take notions sometimes and not sit at all. In that case I always sat night and day until the job was finished. By-a-sore-breast-bone! but making a nest in the hard-graveled desert is a job to be avoided."

"Sore knuckles!" exclaimed Magh, "where are we at? We were talking of feathers."

"So we were, so we were," decided Mooswa. "And what I want to know is, do the Men eat the feathers they hunt for?"

"Oh, Jungle Dwellers!" exclaimed Magh; "if you were to sit in my cage for half a day you would see what they do with them. The Women come there with their heads covered with all kinds of feathers, red, and green, and blue--Silly! how would I look with my head stuck full of funny old feathers?"

"Like the Devil!" exclaimed Sa'-zada.

"Like a Woman," retorted Magh. "And their hair is so pretty, too. I've seen red hair just like mine, and then to cover it up with a crest of feathers like Cockatoo wears; I'd be ashamed of the thing."

"It's a sin to murder the Birds," whimpered Mooswa; "that's the worst part of it."

"Tonk, tonk, tonk!" came a noise just like a small Boy striking an iron telegraph post with a stick. It was the small Coppersmith Bird clearing his throat. Very funny the green pudgy little chap looked with his big black mustaches.

"The Men are great thieves," he asserted. "When I was a chick my Mother taught me to stick my tail under my wings for fear they would steal the feathers as I slept."

"Steal tail feathers!" screamed Eagle; "I should say they would. Out in the West, where was my home, when a Man becomes a great Chief he sticks three of my tail feathers in his hair; and when the Head Chief of a great Indian tribe rises up to make a big talk, what does he hold in his hand? The things that are bright like water-drops----"

"Diamond rings," exclaimed Sa'-zada, interrupting.

"No; he holds one of my wings to show that he is great."

"Yes, you are the King Bird, Eagle," concurred Sa'-zada, "the emblem of our country."

"I can break a lamb's back with my talons," assented Eagle, ignoring the sublime disdainfully, "but I wouldn't trust my nest within reach of any Man--they're a lot of thieves."

"Nice feathers are a great trouble," asserted Sparrow; "I'm glad I haven't any."

"What difference does it make?" cried Quail; "the Men kill me, and I'm sure I'm not gaudy."

"You're good eating, though," chuckled Gidar the Jackal. "After a day's shoot of the Men-kind, the scent from their cook-house is fair maddening. Oh-h-h, ki-yi! I've had many a Quail bone in my time."

"Even Lapwing can't save _us_ from the Hunters," lamented Quail; "they play us such vile tricks. I've seen a rice field with a dozen bamboos stuck in it, and on top of each bamboo a cage with a tame Cock Quail; and in the center, hidden away, sat a man with a little drum which he tapped with his fingers. And the drum would whistle 'peep, peep, peep,' and the Birds in the cages would go 'peep, peep, peep,' and we Cock Birds of the Jungle, thinking it a challenge to battle, would answer back, 'peep, peep, peep,' and go seeking out these strange Birds who were calling for fight. Of course, our Wives would go with us to see the battle, and in the end all would be snared or shot by the deceitful Men."

"That's almost worse than being taken for one's feathers," said Egret. "I'm glad they don't eat me."

"No Mussulman would eat you, Buff Egret," said Gidar the Jackal. "It's because of your habit of picking ticks off the Pigs."

"Some Birds do have vile habits," declared Crow. "Paddy Bird has a Brother in Burma who gets drunk on the Men's toddy."

"I doubt if that be true," said Sa'-zada, "though he is really called 'Bacchus' in the science books."

Said Myna, "Of all Birds, I think the Jungle Fowl are the worst. The Cocks do nothing but fight, fight, all the time--fight, and then get up in a tree and crow about it, as though it were to their credit."

Said Kauwa the Crow, "When one of our family becomes quarrelsome, or a great nuisance, we hold a meeting--I have seen even a thousand Crows at such meetings--hear all there is to say about him, and then if it appears that he is utterly bad we beat him to death."

"Tub-full-of-bread!" exclaimed Hathi, sleepily, "it's my opinion that all Birds should be on their roosts--it's very late."

"And roost high, too," said Magh, "for Coyote and Gidar have been licking their chops for the last hour. I've watched them. And lock Python up, O Sa'-zada, for high roosts won't save them from him."

"All to bed, all to bed!" cried the Keeper. "To-morrow night we'll have some more tales."

The last cry heard on the sleepy night air after all were safely in their cages was Cockatoo's "Avast there, you lubber!" as Myna, sticking his saucy yellow beak through the bars of his cage, called across to him, "Want a glass of grog, Polly?"

Eighth Night

The Stories of Buffalo and Bison

EIGHTH NIGHT

THE STORIES OF BUFFALO AND BISON

This evening the whole Buffalo herd had come out of the park to the meeting-place in front of Chita's cage; even their brother, the Indian Bison, was there, as also was the true Buffalo, Bos Bubalus.

Said Sa'-zada, opening his book: "We should learn much this evening, for Buffalo and Bison are to tell us of their lives. But first, let me put you all right as to their names. Those we have called Buffalo, from our own western prairies, are not Buffalo at all, but Bison, half-brother of Gaur, who also lives in India, where the true Buffalo comes from."

"It does not matter," said Buff, the prairie Bison, "it does not matter what I'm called, seems to me, for all my life I have been most badly treated. Why, it seems no time since I was a calf, one of a mighty herd, on the sweet-grassed prairie, and in those days I thought there was nothing in the world like being a Buffalo.

"The first touch of danger I remember came in this way. The herd had tracked, one after another, all walking in the same narrow path, down to a hollow in which was water. I was feeling frisky, and, seeing something move, something that seemed very like a calf, smaller than myself, I ran after it, cocking my tail, kicking my heels in the air, and thinking it great sport; for, Comrades, the great weakness of all grass-feeders is an idle curiosity."

"And did all this happen when you had your tail kinked in the air, that time you were a silly calf?" jibed Magh, holding a peanut out on her under lip, and looking down at it very sedately, as though the subject were of little interest.

"I'll tell you my story in my own way," declared Buff. "The thing that I followed was like a grey shadow, and slipped about with no noise, but when I came close to it, with a vicious snarl it sprang up, and also there were three others hidden in the grass. Much milk! but I became afraid, and I believe I bawled. Just then I felt the ground tremble, and a dozen of the herd galloped towards me with their heads down. It was a wolf, and help came just in time, for the big fangs of the fierce brute cut my hind leg a little where he sought to hamstring me.

"Then Mother explained, first bunting me soundly with her forehead, then licking me with her coarse tongue, that these Wolves were always following up the Herd, trying to catch a Calf, or sick Cow, or old Bull, to one side."

"We have Wolves in India, too," said Arna, "and Chita the Leopard, and Bagh the Tiger. Blood drinkers! but we have many enemies there; even Cobra will hardly get out of the way seeking to carry to one's blood his sudden death. There are no animals so ill used, I believe, as Buffalo.

"One has need of big Horns in the heart of the Jungle. Why, mine measure nine feet and a half from tip to tip across my forehead. And see the strength of them, fully the size of Bagh's leg--for I am a Curly Horn, which means one of great strength. Never have I locked Horns with a Bull that I have not twisted his neck till he bellowed. Eugh-hu, eugh! Next to lying in muddy water with one's nose just peeping out, there's nothing so pleasant as a trial of strength. And with all respect to Hathi's handiness of trunk, I must say I prefer good, stout Horns. When Bagh or Pardus come sneaking about, there's nothing like a long reach.

"Hear that, friends," said Magh. "Here's a traveler from Panther's own land calls him a sneak. He, he he! now we shall get at the truth."

"Yes," said Gaur, the Bison; "Panther and all his tribe are sneaks. They murdered a Calf of mine. To be sure, it was the Wife's Calf, for had I been there at the time I'd have fixed him. She had just lain down to rest for the night, and the Calf was a little to one side, and this evil-spotted thing, Panther of the Red Kind, came sneaking up the wind like a proper Jungle Cat. He knew I was away, for he has the cunning of Cobra, and how was the mother to know that any danger threatened? He stole like a shadow close to the poor little Calf, and with a rush jumped on his back and bit his neck, breaking it, and cutting it so the red blood ran his life all out in a little while."

"I was born in Mardian," remarked Arna, the Buffalo, "many years ago; and save for the loss of a Calf, through Chita or Bagh's treachery, or perhaps a lone Cow at times, our herd feared no Dweller of the Jungles. Mine is a big family," he ruminated, "for we wander over almost all India and Burma. Before I had grown up our Bull leader had taught us all the method of battle. When it was Bagh, we formed up, heads out, with the Calves behind, and if we but saw him in time, he surely was slain, if he sought strongly for a Kill.

"I learned all the different sounds that come far ahead of danger. One's ears get wondrous sharp in the Jungle, I can tell you, where the little Gonds hunt. If a stone went singing down the hillside, that meant Men, and Men meant the worst kind of danger. No Animal starts a stone rolling; we are too careful for that.

"Also do the Jungle Dwellers not break sticks as they travel. The crack of a broken twig meant Men Hunters; and when a beat was on, the Jungle was, indeed, possessed of great sounds. All the Dwellers ran mad with fear--the fear-madness that is like unto the way of Baola Kutta, the Mad Dog. There is nothing so terrible in the life of an Animal as the drive of the Hunters. 'Tap, tap, tap,' like the knocking of Horns together, meant the strike of Beaters against the trees, and then the Men's voices crying, '_Aree ho teri_.'

"I, who tremble not at the roar of a Tiger, shivered when I heard that, and lost all knowledge of which way I should run--that was in the first drive, of course, before I became possessed of much Jungle wisdom. Surely it drove us all mad. Like the sound of rain falling on leaves was the rush of Python's little feet as even he flew from the Man-danger.

"Our best food was down in the _jhils_, also the nice soft mud to lie in, and in the early spring, after the fires had passed, the young bamboo shot up and we ate them. Then when we took it into our heads, we went up into the deep, cool sal forest and rested in peace. But in the Dry Time was the time of danger, for we had to travel far to find water. We are not like Antelope or Nilgai, who go without water for days and days.

"I remember once when we had crept down out of the hills, leaving the big sal trees behind, and passing through tamarind, and mango, and pipal, and just as we were coming to the pool, which was almost hidden in the jamin bushes, I heard a roar--there was a rush and a Bagh of ferocious strength sprang on one of our Cows and sought to break her neck.

"But worse than Bagh's cruel charge was the silent method of the little, dark Men-kind--the Mariahs. Like Magh's people, they would sit quiet in the trees, and as we came slowly back from the water would shoot arrows into us. Of this we could have no warning, neither any chance to fight for our lives, only the noise of the arrow coming like the hiss of King Cobra, and the cruel sting of its sharp end. Our Bull leader got one this way not strong enough to bring him to his death, and for days and days it stayed in his side, and made him of such a vile temper that the Herd had to cast him forth, and he became what is known as a Solitary Bull.

"There is some kindness in Bagh's method, more than in the way of these evil Men, for when he kills he kills, and there is no more sickness; but of the Men, when they hunt us with their arrows or a thunder-stick which strikes with a loud noise, many of our kind are struck and die at the end of much time.

"Strong as the fire-stick is----"

"Arna means by the fire-stick a gun," explained Sa'-zada.

"Strong as it is," continued Arna, "we Buffalo are also of great strength. Why, the skin on my neck and withers would stop its strike any time."

"Stop the Bullet?" queried Sa'-zada.

"Yes," asserted the Bull. "I have at least three buried in the thick skin of my neck, and I hardly know they are there. Why, it has been known in my Herd for a Bull to be struck fifteen times by one of these fire-sticks, and then the Men did not get him. But just behind the shoulders we are weak. My mother taught me a trick of this sort--'Never stand sideways to an enemy,' she told me. Yes, though it is good to be of great strength, a little wisdom is also of much use, even to a Buffalo."

"It was so with us," concurred Prairie Bison. "From all the other animals we suffered little compared with the misery that came from the Men--the Redmen; and worse still were the Palefaces; it was, as you say, Brother, all because of the fire-stick."

"Even I was struck by it," continued Arna; "it was this way. Early one morning I had gone down to a _jhil_, being alone at that time of the year, for our wives were busy with the Calves, and, as I was going to the uplands, to a favorite _nulla_ of mine, in which to rest, suddenly I caught sight of an evil-faced Gond; these same Gonds being of all Shikaris (hunters) the most strong in their thirst for blood. I rushed away for the hills, thinking to leave him behind. I traveled far, and thought to myself, now surely I have lost this small killer. Being hungry, I fed on the rich grass, but, as I fed, suddenly a dry twig broke in the Jungle, and I knew that it was either Hathi or the little Gond. Looking back, I saw with the Shikari another of a white face. Again I galloped, and trotted, and walked, up a long _nulla_, over a hill, around by the side of it, turned, and went far back, much the way I had come, only to one side. Then I sought the top of a hill where the bamboos grew thick, thinking to hide. As I rested, an evil smell, that was not of the Jungle, came to me as the wind turned in its course and blew up the hill. I stood perfectly still, even ceased to flap my ears against the wicked Flies. As I watched, suddenly this Man of the white face stood up from the grass just the shortest of gallops away, his thunder-stick roared, and something I could not see struck me most viciously in the shoulder. I was mad. Lashing my hips with my tail, and throwing my nose straight out, I charged him.

"Again his thunder-stick spoke loud, but there was no sting--nothing, and he turned from me and ran down the hill. Just as I was almost upon him, he looked back, his foot caught in a bush and he fell. Now, as I have said, my big Horns are of great use when Bagh charges, or when another Bull disputes the right to command the Herd, but as for the small enemy lying on the ground, I could not get at him at all; besides, I was rushing down hill at great speed, so, though I lowered my head till my forehead almost crushed him into the earth, yet I had him not on the Horns, as, carried by my weight, I was forced to the very bottom. Before I could turn he was up and away, and I never saw him again."

"We are also killed by the Men," added Muskwa, the Bear. "They take off our black coats, and I thought, perhaps, that was lest we might come to life again. Yes, I think they mean to kill all Animals."

"They have killed nearly all my people," sighed Prairie Cow--"nearly all of them. I know that is true, for one day Sa'-zada came into our corral, and, rubbing his nice soft hand on my forehead--I was sick that day, I remember--said, 'Poor old girl! we must take care of you, for there are not many of your sort left now.' Then he said it was a shame that the brutes had slaughtered us so."

"Ghurr-ah!" barked Wolf, "tell of this thing, O Buffalo Cow, for to me it has been much of a mystery where the many of your kind could have gone."

"Lu-ah!" sighed Prairie Cow, "it makes me sad to even think of it. As I have said, in my young life we were many, many in numbers like you have seen our enemies, the Men, here at times. All through the long, warm days of sun, we ate the grass that grew again as fast as we cropped it. Our humps became big and full of rich fat for the cold time. Not that I had the hump on my back as a Calf, not needing it as food, for my mother's milk kept my stomach at peace when the winds were cold, and the grass perhaps under a white cover. Sometimes when the days were harsh we had to travel far in search of feed grass, but that was nothing: few of us died because of this. Even when the Red-faced ones sought us, they killed but few, for their hunger was soon stayed. But suddenly there came to us a time of much fear. Wherever we went we were chased by the Palefaces, and their fire-sticks were forever driving the fire that kills into our faces. Our Bull leader was always taking us farther and farther away, and our Herd was getting smaller and smaller. It was a miserable life, for there was never any rest.

"At last our Bull said that we must go on a long trail, for the prairie wind was talking of nothing but danger; so we trailed far to the south. For days and days we passed across hot sand deserts in which there was little grass and hardly any drinking. It was terrible. My hump melted to nothing; we were all like that, worse than we had ever been after the coldest time of little sun.

"Then we came to a land in which there was grass and water, and none of the Men-kind; and once more we were content, only for thinking of our friends that had been killed. I don't remember how long we were there--I think I had raised two Calves, when one day the evil that comes of the Men was once more with us----"

"Yes, it is even as I have said," interrupted Arna; "when one thinks he has got away safely, and stops for a little rest, he will see that evil Gond, or some other of the Men-kind, waiting to do him harm."

"Just so," commented Prairie Cow; "the Palefaces had found us out. But I must say there was less use of the fire-sticks than before, and I soon came to know why they had trailed us across the Texas desert--they had come to steal our Calves. Never were any poor Animals so troubled by Man's evil ways as were we Buffalo. At first I thought they had not fire-sticks with them, and meant to kill and eat the Calves, they being less able to fight. I remember the very day my Calf was taken. As the Herd fed in a little valley, we saw three Wild Horses coming toward us--we thought they were Wild Horses, but it was an evil trick of the Palefaces, for beside each Horse walked one of the Men. They were down wind from us, so we did not discover this. Suddenly our Herd leader--he was a great Bull, too--gave a grunt of warning--much like Bear grunts, only louder; but still we could see nothing to put fear into our hearts. Then our leader commenced to throw sand up against his sides with his forefeet, and, lowering his head, shook it savagely. 'Why does he wish to battle?' I wondered, for the Wild Horses had never made trouble for my people.

"Just then the Men jumped on their animals, and away we raced. I remember as I ran wondering why there was no loud bark of the fire-stick, for I could see the Hunters galloping fast after us; in fact one of them was close at my heels, for my youngest Calf, not two months old, could not run as swiftly as I wished. I was keeping him close; and on my other side galloped my Calf that was a year old.

"Suddenly I heard a 'swisp' in the air, and my little curly-haired pet gave a choking gasp and fell in the grass. Of course, I could not stop at once, and he bawled much as I did when the Wolf was at my hock. When I turned in great haste I saw the Paleface on top of him. I was just crazy with rage. I charged full at the Man and his Horse, and it almost makes me laugh now to think how I kept him jumping about. He did use a small firestick on me, but I am sure it was because of the Man-fear, of which Hathi told us; I saw it in his eyes plain enough. But who can stand against the fire-stick? Not even Bagh or Hathi, as we know, so I was forced to flee with the Herd.

"We galloped far, far, before we stopped; and that night there were many mothers in the Herd bawling and crying for their lost Calves, for these evil Men had stolen a great number. I felt so sad thinking of my little one's trouble that I could stand it no longer, so I went back on our trail, and, following up the scene of the Men-kind, came to where they had my Calf and the others. It was night. I soon found him, for a Cow Mother's nose is most wise when looking for her young. But I could not get him away with me, for he was held fast by something; so I stayed there and let him drink of my milk.

"Even with the fear of a fire-stick on me I stayed with him, and in the morning when the Pale-faces saw me their eyes were full of much wonder. But I did not try to run away, and one of them, making many motions and noises to the other two, I think, commanded them not to harm me. Well, good Comrades," sighed the Cow, regretfully, "mine has been a very long story, I'm afraid, but when one talks of her Babe there is so much to be said."

"And did they bring you here with the Calf?" asked Magh.

"Most surely," answered Prairie Cow; "and because of my milk he grew big and strong, much faster than grew the other Calves, and is now big Bull of the Herd."

"But how fared the others with no mothers?" asked Chita.

"They gave them Cow mothers of the tame kind," answered the Cow.

Said Arna, scratching his back with the point of his long horn: "It is not quite this way with us in India. We stick pretty well to the _jhils_ and Jungles, so the Men cannot kill many of us at one time; but still we are becoming fewer. Even those of the black kind now have the thunder-stick, and kill my comrades to sell their heads to the horn merchants. Think of that, Brothers, having a price on one's head, like a Bhil robber."

Said Sa'-zada: "I wish all the Men who slay Animals, calling it sport, might have sat here to-night with us, that their hearts might be inclined more kindly toward you, Brothers, who war not against my kind."

"Sa'-zada," cried Hathi, in a gentle voice, "could you not put all these things in a new book, and lend it to each one of your people so that they might know of these true things? Surely then they would not seek for the life of each one of us that has done them no harm."

"I have a notion to try it, good Comrade," said the Keeper. "But in the meantime it is late, and now you must all go back to your corrals and cages."

"Good-night, Prairie Cow," trumpeted Hathi, softly, caressing her forehead with his trunk; "your people most certainly have been badly treated by the Men."

Soon silence reigned over the home of these outcasts from the different quarters of the world.

Ninth Night

The Story of Unt, the Camel

NINTH NIGHT

THE STORY OF UNT, THE CAMEL

The clink of a loose chain; the complaining wail of a swinging iron door; the squeak of a key turning an unwilling lock--a heavy-bolted lock; a flutter of wings; the crunch of giant feet on the echoing gravel; huge forms slipping through the moonlight, like prehistoric monsters; a slim, ribbon-like body gliding noiselessly over the grass cushion of the Park's sward; muffled laughter, bird calls and a remonstrative grunt from Wild Boar; the merry chatter of Magh the Orang; a guarded "Phrut-t-t, Phrut-t-t" from Hathi, the huge Elephant--ah, yes, all these; surely it was the gathering of old friends, who, like the listeners of the Arabian Night's tales, had for many evenings talked of their Jungle life in front of Black Panther's cage.

"You are all welcome," growled Pardus.

Magh hopped on the end of Hathi's trunk, and the latter lifted her gracefully to a seat on his broad forehead. She had Blitz, the Fox Terrier, with her. "You will hear some lies to-night, Pup," she confided to him. "But who is to talk?" she asked suddenly; "Chee-he! Sa'-zada, our good Keeper, who's to talk?"

"Camel is to tell us of his life," answered the Keeper.

"That stupid creature, who is too lazy to brace up and look spry, talk to us? Next we know we'll have a tale from Turtle."

"That's it," sneered Boar, "if one is honest and a plodder like Unt, bandy-legged creatures like Magh will call him stupid."

Unt, with a bubbling grunt, knelt down, doubled his hind legs under him like a jack-knife, made himself comfortable, and commenced his personal history.

"Bul-lul-luh!" he muttered. "I was born in Baluchistan, on the nice white sand plains of the Sibi _Put_ (desert). As Mooswa has said, there must be some great Animal who arranges things for us. Think of it, Comrades, I had the good fortune to be born in just the loveliest spot any animal could wish for. As far as I could see on every side was the hot, dry sand of the beautiful Sibi desert."

"I know," interrupted Ostrich; "my home in Arabia was like that. I've listened to Arna here, and Bagh, telling of the thick Jungles where one could scarce see three lengths of his own body, and I must say that I think it very bad taste."

"Yes, it was lovely there," bubbled Unt. "No wonder that Bagh, when he was chased by the Beaters, fled to the sand _damar_ and hid in the korinda thorns. Such sweet eating they are, firm under one's teeth. The green food is dreadful stuff. Once crossing the Sibi _Put_, when I was three days without food, I remember coming to Jacobabad, a place where the foolish ones of the Men-kind had planted trees, and bushes, and grass, and kept them green with water. I ate of these three green things, and nearly died from a swelling in my stomach.

"Well, as I have said, I was born in that nice sand place, and for three or four years did nothing but follow mother Unt about. Then they put a button in my nose, and tied me with a cord to the tail of another Unt, and put merchandise on my back for me to carry. There was a long line of us, and in front walked Dera Khan, the Master. We seemed to be always working, always carrying something; our only rest was when we were being loaded or unloaded. We were made to lie down when the packs were put on our backs, and many a time I have got up suddenly when the boxes were nearly all on, rose up first from behind, you know, and sent the things flying over my head. I would get a longer rest that way, but also I got much abuse, though I didn't mind it, to be sure; for, as Mooswa has said, our way of life is all arranged for us, and the abuse that was thrust upon me was a part of my way.

"But one year there came to Sibi many Men of the war-kind, and with them were the black ones from Bengal. It was a fat one of this kind, one of little knowledge of the ways of an Unt, a 'Baboo,' Dera Khan called him, who caused me much misery. It was my lot to take him and his goods to the Bolan Pass, so Dera said, for the One-in-Charge, a Sahib, had so ordered it. When I sought to rise, as usual, when the load was but half in place, he got angry and beat me with a big-leafed stick he carried to keep the heat from his head. But in the end I brought to his knowledge the method of an Unt who has been beaten without cause.

"When all his pots and pans, and boxes of books, wherein was writing, had been bound to my saddle, the Baboo clambered on top. I must say that I could understand little of his speech, for my Master, Dera Khan, was a Man of not many words, but the Baboo was as full of talk as even Magh is; and of very much the same intent, too--of little value."

"Big lip! Crooked neck! Frightener of Young!" screamed Magh, hurling the epithets at Camel with vindictive fury.

"Unt's tale is truly a most interesting one; there is much wit in his long head," commented Pardus. Camel rolled the cud in his mouth three or four times, dropped his heavy eyelids reflectively, bubbled a sigh of meek resignation and proceeded:

"When I rose from behind, the Baboo nearly fell over my neck; when I came sharply to my forefeet (for I was always a very spry, active Unt), he declared to Dera Khan that I had broken his back. But I knew this couldn't be true, for I was always a most unlucky Unt. Of course, this time I was not tied to the tail of a mate, but my leading line was with the Baboo. He shouted 'Jao' to me, and in addition called me the Son of an Evil Pig.

"Have any of you ever seen one of my kind run away?" Camel asked, swinging his big head inquiringly about the circle.

"I have," answered Black Panther. "Once, being hungry, I crept close to an Unt to ask him if he could tell me where I might find a Chinkara or other Jungle Dweller for my dinner. I saw _that_ Camel run. For a small part of the journey I was on his back; but though I can cling to anything pretty well, yet the twists of his long legs were too much for me, and I landed on my head in the sand, nearly breaking my back."

"Well," resumed Camel, "you will understand how the Baboo and his pots and pans fared when I ran away with him, which I did as soon as Dera Khan moved a little to one side. At first I couldn't get well into my stride, for the Baboo pulled at the nose rope, and called to Dera in great fear. Dera also ran beside me, holding to the ropes that were on the boxes; many things fell, coming away like cocoanuts from a tree. An iron pot going down with much speed struck my Master on his head, and he said the same fierce words that he always used when I caused him trouble of any kind.

"You know, though I ran fast, yet by tipping my head a little to one side I could see what was doing behind, and I saw a basket in which were many round, white things----"

"Eggs," suggested Cockatoo. "Those were the round white things Potai brought from bazaar in a basket."

"Yes, they were in a basket," repeated Camel, solemnly; "so, as you say, Cocky, I suppose they were eggs; but, however, they came down all at once on the face and shoulders of my loved Master."

"And broke, Cah-cah-cah!" laughed Kauwa the Crow; "I know. More than once I've seen relatives of mine have their eggs broken through being thrown out of the nest by Cuckoo Bird."

"As I have said," continued Camel, "my Master was a Man of few words, but at this he let go of the rope, and the language he used still rings in my ears. Dry chewing! how I fled. And behind chased Dera Khan, a big knife in his hand--in spite of his violence I had to laugh at the color the eggs had left on his long beard--a knife in his hand, and crying aloud that he would cut the Baboo's throat.

"As I swung first one side of my legs, and then the other over the sweet sand desert, I could feel the Baboo thumping up and down on my back, for he was clinging to the saddle with both hands. Sometimes he abused me, and sometimes he begged me to stop; that I was a good Unt--his Father and Mother, and his greatest friend. As he would not be shaken off because of his fear of Dera Khan's knife, I carried him into a _jhil_ of much water; there he was forced to let go, and when he got to the bank, if it had not been for a Sahib he would most surely have been killed by my Master. Hathi has told us of the fear-look he has seen in the faces of the Men-kind, and there was much of this in the eyes of that Baboo. I remained in the _jhil_ until my Master had lost the fierce kill-look, then I came out, and save for some of the old abuse there was nothing done to me.

"But we all went to the Bolan Pass, carrying food for those that labored there making a path for the Fire Caravan, the bearer of burdens that is neither Bullock, nor Unt, nor aught that I know of."

"It was a railroad," Sa'-zada, the Keeper, explained.

"Perhaps," grunted Unt, licking his pendulous upper lip; "perhaps, but we Unts spoke of it as the Fire Caravan. Still it was an evil thing, a destroyer of lives, many lives, for never in that whole land of sand-hills and desert was there so much heat and so much death.

"First the _Bail_ (Bullocks) died as though Bagh the Killer had taken each one by the throat; then those of my kind fell down by the fire-path and could not rise again. And the air, that is always so sweet on the hot sand plains, became like the evil breath of the place wherein nests Boar."

"Ugh, ugh!" grunted Wild Boar, "even there, by this stupid tale of Unt's, there was something evil to be likened to my kind."

"The water that had been sweet ran full of a sickness because of all this, and the Men that drank of it were stricken with the Black Death. At first it was those of the Black-kind, and then the others, the Sahibs, became possessed of it. And then the Burra-Sahib, Huzoor the Governor, was taken with it; so said one of the Sahibs who came to Dera Khan just as he was tying a rope about my foreleg so that I could not rise and wander in the night.

"'It is sixty miles to Sibi,' this Sahib, who was but young, said to my Master.

"'By the Grace of Allah, it is more,' Dera answered him.

"'The Big Sahib, who is my friend, is stricken with the Black Death,' said the young Sahib, 'and also the Baboo Doctor is the same, being close to his death; and unless I get a Healer from Sibi to-morrow, the Sahib who is my friend will surely die.'

"'If Allah wills it so, Kismet,' answered my Master.

"'Have you a fast Camel?' asked the young Sahib.

"'This is Moti,' replied my Master, putting his hand on my hump, 'and when he paces, the wind remains behind.'

"Then the young Sahib promised my Master many rupees and much work for the other Unts, so be it he might ride me to Sibi for a Doctor.

"By a meal of brown paper such as one picks up in a bazaar, I swear that I understood more of what that meant to my Master than many a Camel would have known, for had I not seen it all, this that I am about to tell? You know, Comrades, that the Burra-Sahib was a Man of a dry temper, and it so happened that one day Dera Khan had displeased him, which I just say was a way my Master had often. That was a full moon before the coming of the Black Sickness. Oh, Friends, but I had seen it all; it made me tremble, knowing of the readiness with which Dera Khan argued with his knife, like unto the manner of Pathans.

"The Big Sahib would have struck my Master but for this same young Sahib who had now come with his offer of many rupees--this Sahib who had been there at that time. So, Comrades, there was _good_ hate for the sick man in Dera's heart.

"'Will you send the Camel?' said the young Sahib; and Dera, drawing himself up straight, even as I do under a heavy load, held out his hand and said, 'Allah! thou art a Man. My goods are your goods, but for the other, the one who is your friend and my enemy, the wrath of Allah upon him.'

"The Sahib was on my back in a little.

"I have said before that with the Baboo and many kettles on my back I ran fast, but think you, Comrades, of the weight, and also of the poor rider, for there is nothing an Unt dislikes so much as the knock, knock, against his hump of one having no knowledge of proper pace. How the Sahib sat! Close as a pad that had been tied on; and he coaxed and urged--even swore a little at times, but not after an unreasoning manner as had the Baboo. He called me a Bikaneer, even his Dromedary, which means one of great speed; and begged me, if I wished food for all time, to hasten. How we fled in the long night, down the hot paths, splashing many times through the cool water that crossed our path--Bolan River, it is called, the water that comes from the high-reaching sand lands that are all white on their tops."

"The snow mountains," explained Sa'-zada, for Camel's description was more or less vague.

"As I have said," continued Camel, "the water was cool. Never once did I fall, though the round stones were like evil things that twist at one's feet to bring him down. 'Hurry, hurry, hurry!' the young Sahib called to me, and I laughed, thinking he would tire before I should.

"On we went, passing little fires where those of the Cooly kind rested as they fled from the Black Death. Just as we came out on the flat sand which is the Sibi Desert, there were gathered in one place many Men. For a space we stopped, and my Rider asked if there was a Healer with them. They answered that they were Men of the war-kind going up to keep the workers from running away from the Black Death; even those at the little fires would be turned back, they said.

"Then on again I raced. I could hear my Rider talking back to his friend, the Burra-Sahib, who lay stricken with the evil sickness, though I know not how he could hear him, for we were full half way to Sibi.

"'Keep up your courage, Jack,' he would say, speaking to his Friend. 'Please God, I'll have a Surgeon there in time to save you yet.'

"Then he would fall to abusing some other of the Men-kind, perhaps he was not a friend, whom he blamed for all that was wrong. 'You puffed-up beast,' he would say, speaking to this other, 'to send a lot of Men to such a death hole with a brute of a Bengali-Baboo to doctor them--murder them, and a medicine chest that was emptied in a day. It's a bit of luck that Baboo died, but it doesn't help matters much.'

"That was the Baboo I had run away with; perhaps even the medicine chest had lost much through its fall from my back.

"Then to me, 'Hurry, hurry, hurry! Shabaz!' (push on); then to his Friend, 'Poor old Man, Jack! what will _She_ say if I don't pull you out of this? I'll never go back to England as long as I live if this beastly thing snuffs you out.'

"Then to the other, the one who had done this evil: 'Curse you, with your red tape economy! You're a C. I. E.'--whatever that meant I don't know--'but you've murdered old Jack, who is a Man. You're out of this trouble up at Simla, but you'll roast for this yet.'

"You know, Comrades," said Unt, plaintively, "I didn't know all about this thing--I couldn't understand it, you see, being an Unt, and, as Magh says, stupid; but someway I felt like doing my best for the young Sahib who did not make me cross by beating me, but only cried 'Hurry! Shabaz! my swift runner,' and shook a little at the nose line in his haste."

"I have often felt that way," encouraged Hathi; "once I remember, it was in Rangoon, that time I was working in the timber yards. I had a Mahout who never stuck the sharp iron goad in my head at all. He always told me everything I was to do by different little knocks on my ears with his knees as he sat on my neck. And also by soft speech, of course, for, as you say, Unt, it keeps one from getting cross, or filled with fear, and so one has only to think of what the Master requires. You were right to run fast with such a rider."