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The Sa'-Zada Tales




BOOKS BY W. A. FRASER

PUBLISHED BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS


    THE SA'-ZADA TALES. Illustrated by Arthur Heming       $0.00

    MOOSWA AND OTHERS OF THE BOUNDARIES. Illustrated
      by Arthur Heming                                     $2.00

    THE OUTCASTS. Illustrated by Arthur Heming.            $1.25 _net_

    THE BLOOD LILIES. Illustrated by Frank Schoonover      $1.50

    BRAVE HEARTS. With Frontispiece                        $1.50


[Illustration: SA'-ZADA HAD GATHERED ALL HIS COMRADES ... FOR THE
EVENING OF THE BIRD TALK ...

(SEE PAGE 119.)]




THE
SA'-ZADA TALES


By W. A. FRASER

_Illustrated by_ ARTHUR HEMING

[Illustration]

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
_NEW YORK ... MDCCCCV_




_Copyright, 1905, by_
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

_Published September, 1905_

J. F. TAPLEY CO.
NEW YORK




Contents


                                                         PAGE

INTRODUCTION                                               ix

THE WHITE, YELLOW, AND BLACK LEOPARD                        3

HATHI GANESH, THE WHITE-EARED ELEPHANT                     39

GIDAR, THE JACKAL, AND COYOTE, THE PRAIRIE WOLF            51

RAJ BAGH, THE KING TIGER                                   65

THE TRIBE OF KING COBRA                                    87

THE STORY OF THE MONKEYS                                  103

STORY OF BIRDS OF A FEATHER                               119

THE BUFFALO AND BISON                                     139

UNT, THE CAMEL                                            155

BIG TUSK, THE WILD BOAR                                   173

OOHOO, THE WOLF, AND SHER ABI, THE CROCODILE              189

SA'-ZADA, THE "ZOO" KEEPER                                211




Illustrations

_From Drawings by Arthur Heming_


                                                                  PAGE

Sa'-Zada had gathered all his comrades ... for the
  evening of the bird talk                               _Frontispiece_

"The thing that had me by the paw was of a fiendish kind."          19

"And away we dashed."                                               32

"Then something strong grabbed me by the hind leg, and
  pulled me ..."                                                    42

"Two ruffianly Bulls ... fought me while the men slipped
  great strong ropes over my legs"                                  46

"I heard my man say ... 'Strike me dead, if he hasn't ...'"         61

"But I could see that there was something very wrong ..."           70

"My sire ... sprang on a big Hathi's nose"                          82

"And Baba used to come every day under the bungalow to play"        90

"I would stretch my body across it much after that fashion"         98

"And they all clambered on to my back"                             111

"And sitting beside her, cried also, being but a little
  chap and all alone in the jungle"                                112

"And as he coughed, soap bubbles floated upward."                  122

"Leaving just a place for her sharp beak"                          125

"Something I could not see struck me most viciously in the
  shoulder"                                                        146

"Suddenly I heard a 'swisp' in the air, and my little
  curly-haired pet ..."                                            150

"I remained in the _jhil_ until my master had lost the
  fierce Kill-look"                                                161

"But some way I felt like doing my best"                           166

"It was at this time that Bagh killed so many of my people"        182

"'Into the horse's legs,' the old Dame had said"                   184

"One could travel for days over the white snow"                    190

"'Let me in, Tom, I am Jack,' pleaded the Hunt man"                202

"The grizzly ... bounced out not ten yards from the Cayuse"        220

"Bhalu ... pitched into the other two"                             230




Introduction


_All his life Sa'-zada the Keeper had lived with animals. That was why
he could talk to them, and they to him; that was why he knew that
something must be done to keep his animal friends from fretting
themselves to death during the dreadful heat that came like a disease
over their part of the Greater City._

_In the Greater City itself the sun smote with a fierceness that was
like the anger of evil gods. The air vibrated with palpitating white
heat, and the shadows were as the blue flame of a forge. Men and women
stole from ovened streets, wide-mouthed, to places where trees swayed
and waters babbled feebly of a cooler rest; even the children were sent
away that they might not die of fevered blood._

_But in the Animal City there was no escape. The Dwellers from distant
deep jungles and tall forests had only blistering iron bars between
them and the sirocco that swept from the brick walls of the Greater
City._

_It was because of this that Sa'-zada said, "I must make them talk of
their other life, lest they die of this."_

_In the Greater City men thought only of themselves; but with Sa'-zada
it was different. The animals were his children--his friends; so he had
contrived that all of the Peace-kind--the Grass-feeders and
others--should come from their cages and corrals and meet each evening
in front of the iron-bound homes which contained those of the
Blood-kind, to tell stories of their past life._

_Sa'-zada had asked Hathi, the one-tusked Elephant, who had been Ganesh
in Hindustan, about it. In Hathi's opinion those who had seen the
least, and were of little interest, would do all the talking--that was
his experience of jungle life; so the Keeper had wisely arranged that
each evening some one animal, or group, should tell the tale._




THE DWELLERS IN ANIMAL TOWN, IN THE GREATER CITY


SAHIB ZADA, Keeper of the Animals in the Zoo

ARNA, _the Wild India Buffalo_.
ADJUTANT, _the Scavenger Bird_.
BHAINSA, _the Tame India Buffalo_.
BAGHNI, _the Tigress_.
BAGHEELA, _Young Panther or Tiger_.
BHALU, _the Bear_.
COYOTE, _the Prairie Wolf_.
CARIBOU.
CHINKARA, _Gazelle_.
GIDAR, _the Jackal_.
GURU, _the India Bison_.
HANUMAN, _a Tree-dwelling Monkey_.
HOOLUK, _the Black Monkey_.
HORNBILL, _Bird like the Toucan_.
HATHI, _the Elephant_.
HANSOR, (the Laugher) _Hyena_.
HAMADRYAD, _the King Cobra_.
KAUWA, _the Crow_.
MOOSWA, _the Moose_.
MAGH, _the Ourang-Outang_.
MOR, _the Peacock_.
MUSK OX.
NEWAL, _the Mongoos_.
PARDUS, _the Panther_.
RAJ BAGH, _the Tiger_.
SAFED CHITA, _the White Chita, or White Leopard_.
SOOR, _the Wild Boar_.
SAMBHUR, _A Deer_.
SHER ABI, _the Crocodile_.
UNT, _the Camel_.
WAPOOS, _the Hare_.
ZARD CHITA, _the Yellow Leopard_.




First Night

The Stories of White, Yellow, and Black Leopard

[Illustration]

[Illustration]




The Sa'-zada Tales




FIRST NIGHT

THE STORIES OF WHITE, YELLOW, AND BLACK LEOPARD


Through the listless leaves of the oaks and elms the moon was spraying
silver over the hot earth when Sa'-zada, throwing down bars and
unlocking gates, passed the words to his friends to gather at Leopard's
cage.

As he slipped the chain from Hathi's foot, and it fell with a soft
clink on the hay bed, he said, "Ganesh, you of the one tusk, keep thou
the Jungle Dwellers in order, for if one may judge from the manners of
one's own kind, who are men, this weather is a breeder of evil
tempers."

"Umph, umph!" grunted Hathi complacently. "I who have seen fifty such
times of discomfort think little of it. Surely the Sahib-kind, who are
also long dwellers, can remember that there comes another season of
cool. But, as you say, Master, perhaps it were well if I take into my
trunk a cooler of water for such as may fret themselves into a fever."

Even as Hathi spoke an angry roar shook the building they were in.

"Hear that, Patient One," cried Sa'-zada; "Pardus, the Black Panther,
who is at best a mighty cross chap, is in an evil way."

The cry of Black Panther, which was like the falling of many cataracts,
was causing the dead night air to tremble. "Hough-hough; a-hough!
Huzo-or, Wah-hough!"

"There, make haste, Little One!" said the Keeper to Elephant. "The
sight of our friends who are gathering at his cage, has put Pardus in a
temper, I fear."

In front of the Leopard's house all the outside animals of the Park had
assembled: Arna, the India Buffalo; Sher Abi, the Crocodile; Gidar, the
Jackal, and many others; even Magh, the Ourang-Outang, was there with a
Fox Terrier who lived in her cage.

"Friends," began Sa'-zada, "if we are all to live here together in this
Park, it were well that we know of each other's ways."

"That's a good idea," declared Sher Abi; "for in my time I have known
little of the habits of other animals. A dog, for instance, will come
down to the water to drink----"

"I know," interrupted Gidar; "and not having the wisdom of a Jungle
Dweller like me, he will come to drink and stop to sup with one of your
kind. Is that not so, Sher Abi?"

"Perhaps, perhaps," sighed the Magar; "and at home the Pups, having
lost a parent, fall into the clutches of Gidar the Jackal."

"I like this meeting," broke in Magh; "a gathering of thieves, and
cannibals, and murderers--Eaters of Dogs----"

"And Apes," came like a soft summer sigh from the bellows-mouth of the
Crocodile.

"Friends," interrupted the Keeper, "do not fall to quarreling. Let us
decide who is to tell the first tale. As we are at Leopard's cage,
perhaps he should have the first chance."

"I'm agreed," declared Magh; "murder stories are always interesting."

"I am sure everybody would be glad to hear of your killing, Magh,"
sneered Pardus.

"Well," continued Sa'-zada, "here are three Leopards: Pard, the Black
Leopard; Rufous, the Yellow Leopard, and White Leopard. We'll have
their stories for this evening."

"I'm no Leopard," objected Pardus, ceasing his restless walk for a
minute. Then he took three turns up and down in front of the bars, his
big velvet feet sounding "spufh, spufh," on the hard polished floor.
"No," he continued, stopping in front of Sa'-zada, sitting down, and
letting his big round head sink between his shoulders, until he looked
up from under heavy brows with yellow-green eyes, "no, I'm a Panther.
That is the way with the men of my land; to them we are all 'Chita,'
or else 'Bagh,' which surely means a Tiger."

"I know," answered Sa'-zada, "you are neither Bagh the Tiger, nor Chita
the Leopard."

"I should say not," answered Pardus. "Chita is long of leg and slim of
gut--a chaser of Rabbits, and of the build of an Afghan Hound. With one
crunch of my jaws--Waugh! Why, I could break his neck."

"What's the difference, anyway," objected Magh, "whether you are a
Leopard or Panther--you all belong to the family of Throat Cutters? But
what bothers me is that one is black, one is yellow, and one is white;
now, in my family, we are all of one shade."

"A very dirty color, too," sneered Pardus. "Waugh-hough! no color at
all--just _dirt_!"

"That is so that murderers like you cannot see me to eat me," answered
Magh. "If I am on the ground, am I not the color of the ground? And
when I am curled up on the limb of a tree am I not like a knot on the
tree trunk? That is to keep me safe from you and Python."

"That may be so," answered Pardus, "but I, who hunt in the early night,
find this black coat the very thing. Soft Paws! I have come so close to
a Bullock, working up wind, of course, that one spring completed the
Kill."

"Umph, umph!" grunted Hathi, with eager interest. "All that appears
reasonable; but, tell me, Brothers, why is Yellow Leopard so bright in
his spots? And if your black coat serves you so well, how does the
other, who is white, manage?"

"I speak only of myself," joined in Rufous, the Yellow Leopard. "True,
I also hunt at night at times, but it's slow work; perhaps a long night
watch by a water pool, and then only the kill of a Chinkara--a
mouthful, and in the time of scarce food, why, one must stalk when the
Grass-feeders are within range of one's eye. Who is there amongst you
all, even Soor (Wild Boar), with his sharp Pig eyes, that can say, when
I am crouched amongst the bushes with the sun making bright spots all
over the jungle, 'There is Yellow Leopard, who is a slayer.' Not only
is it good for the Kill, this coat of mine, but when the hunt is on
from the other side, when I seek to keep clear of the Men-kind--by my
caution! more than once, when it has been that way, have I slipped
quietly through the young jungle, and left the Beaters running up
against each other, asking which way went Bagh. I am no night prowler
like Pardus, for often have I killed in the open."

"I know nothing of all this matter," declared White Leopard; "but had I
been black like Pardus, or black-spotted like Rufous, I had died of a
lean stomach in the white mountains from which I come. Why, there, on
the hillside, every rock gleams white in the sunlight--not spotted,
mind you, for there is no jungle such as Rufous speaks of; even the
sand-hills are so white with the hot light that a mate of mine has been
almost at my side before I knew it."

"White Leopard is from the _Safed Kho_ Mountains, the White Range, in
Afghanistan," said Sa'-zada for the information of the others.

"I know," declared Unt the Camel; "I've been there--just the loveliest
hot sandy hills and plains in the whole world. But, tell me, Little
Brother of the Blood-kind," he bubbled, "it is not always sunlight
there--at times the white storm comes--high up in the range--what do
you do then?"

"My coat gets whiter still," answered Leopard; "and if I close my eyes
and stalk by scent alone, why, you would never see me till I was at
your throat."

"It's either a lie or most curious truth," grunted Magh, biting the Fox
Terrier's ear till he squealed. "Here is a Pup that is white all the
time, and no lies about it, either."

"Oh, it's the truth," asserted Wapoos, the Hare; "in the winter time I,
also, turn white to save my throat from Lynx or Marten; though it is
not of my own doing, to be sure."

"It's Wie-sak-ke-chack, who is God of all Animals, who arranges it this
way," said Mooswa, solemnly.

"Well," interrupted Sa'-zada, "one of you Leopards tell us of the
manner of your coming here."

"As I have said," began White Leopard, "I was born in the Safed
Mountains, and it was a year of much hunger----"

"The very year I was born," declared Magh; "there hardly seemed more
than three nuts or berries in the world."

"Come up here, Chatterbox," grunted Hathi, winding his trunk around
Magh's body, and lifting her to his massive head.

"Let me hold the Pup," whined Sher Abi, spreading his shark mouth in a
disinterested yawn. Hathi blew a handful of small stones which he had
been picking up, into the opening, causing Sher Abi to sputter and
choke. When the laughter had subsided, White Leopard proceeded with his
story.

"As I have said, it was a year of much hunger, because the Affrides
made war, and the Sahibs came, and it seemed as though everything that
had life in it was driven out of the country. They ate up the Goats and
Sheep, and the Bullocks and Camels they took to carry their loads. It
was indeed a time of distressed stomachs; and, to make matters worse,
my Father, who was a killer of Bullocks and not a Goat eater, dropped
the matter of a thousand feet over a cliff and was killed. Then my
mother came with me, and I was still a Cub, down to the land of the
Marris, where there were many Sheep--the short-legged kind with the
broad fat tails; small they were, to be sure, and hardly of the bulk of
even a Cub's desire. The very sweetness of their flesh made one wish
that they had grown larger. Hunger pains! but it was a long tramp on a
lean stomach, and in the end we fell among Men thieves--those of the
White-kind, the Sahibs."

"Birds of a feather on one limb," sneered Magh, tickling Hathi on the
ear with her sharp finger.

"And in that land, though there were many Sheep, it was hard to make a
kill. Why, the Herd Men, Pathans they were called, which I think means
the greatest of all thieves, were as wary as Jungle Dwellers. At the
first try my Mother got a blow in the shoulder from one of their evil,
long-necked Firesticks."

"Ha, ha!" laughed Sa'-zada; "that long gun was a _jezail_, and the
Pathans are good marksmen, too. I could tell a story myself of their
shooting; but go on, Chita, it's your say."

"As for making a kill at night, Waugh! we had near starved watching for
a chance; these Hillmen huddled their Sheep and Goats into caves like
children, and slept across the opening.

"And do you know, Friends, they lived so close with their Sheep, that I
swear by my mustache they were of the same smell. Fine as my scent is,
one night I had crept close to what my nose told me was a Sheep, and
was just on the point of taking it by the neck when it got up on its
hind legs and roared at me with the man cry.

"We were like to die of hunger when Jaruk the Hyena came sneaking and
laughing, and talked of a blood compact to Rani, who was my Mother. We
were so hungry! but it was all to our undoing; for the grinning sneak
was a coward, and led us into an evil trap. He told us of three Sahibs,
a short journey from where we had our hunt; and these Sahibs were like
Cubs in their little knowledge of jungle ways, having Sheep and Goats
which they tied to stakes close by the white caves in which they lived,
and never a guard over them at night. Waugh! well I remember, hungry as
I was, how the smell of Hyena fair turned my stomach, so that I had
little longing for eating of any kind; but Rani, being older and having
more wisdom, knew that unless we soon found some method for making a
kill we should surely die.

"That night there was a small moon as we crept down over the valley and
up to a flat-land where the Men-kind lived in little white caves--such
odd caves, too, in one place to-day and in another the next."

"He means tents," explained Sa'-zada; "being a Cave Dweller himself,
his knowledge of houses is limited."

"It's a wonder he didn't call them trees," muttered Magh.

"Hyena stole along like a shadow of nothing, so smooth and soft were
his feet--a proper sneak, I must say I thought him even then, Cub as I
was."

"Are you listening, Jaruk?" called Magh, maliciously; "this was a
Brother of yours who was in partnership with Chita."

But Hyena only grinned a frothy laugh, and slunk over behind Sher Abi.

"Well," proceeded White Leopard, "we crept along, our bellies close to
earth, till we came to a little ledge, where Rani and I waited, while
Jaruk stole up to the white caves to see how the stalk was.

"'They sleep like the young of Owls in daytime,' he whispered when he
returned; 'even I, who am a creature of fear, and not like you, Rani, a
slayer of Bullocks, have rubbed my lean jaws against two fat Goats that
are chewing the sweet cud of plenty.'"

"How your mouth must have watered, White Shirt," sneered Magh.

"Then Rani commenced the stalk, and I, even a Cub, though I had always
lain hidden while she was making the kill before, followed close at her
heels. Even now I remember just how Rani made the kill. First one paw,
and then the other, she stretched out, and pulled herself along, with
never so much as the rattle of a single stone. The Goats were like the
Sahibs in the caves, safe in the conceit which comes of a full stomach.
When Rani crouched lower than ever and braced her hind paws carefully,
I knew that the charge was on. Waugh, waugh-houk! By the neck she had
one--for that is the way of our kind always--and with a jerk he was
thrown on her shoulder, and away up the hill she raced. I tried for
the other, but, being new to the kill, missed, getting only the rope in
my teeth. Even as I chased after Rani I could not help but laugh in
spite of my miss, for Hyena was screaming as he ran, 'Did you get the
fat one, the very fat one?'"

"The Greedy Pig," commented Magh.

"Ugh, ugh, ugh!" grunted Soor. "Why should he be likened to one of my
kind? More like he had a paunch full of peanuts, or other filth, such
as you carry, Miss Bleary-eye; or if he were greedy, was he not like
unto his mate, Chita, who will eat half his own weight at a single
kill?"

"Such a row I never heard in all my life," continued White Leopard;
"the Sahibs, and the black men who serve them, ran here and there with
blinking red eyes in their hands----"

"The Man Fire," quietly commented Mooswa.

"And all at once, over to one side, there was a short growl from a
Firestick; and a Sahib called loudly, 'I've got him! I've got him!'

"I wondered what it could be, for Rani and I were together with the
Goat. I almost hoped it was Jaruk; but he was close at our heels,
sniffing with his hungry nose, and fairly eating the sand where some of
the Goat's blood had trickled into it. Then all the blinking red eyes
passed swiftly to where the Sahib was, and we heard them laughing--only
louder than Hyena laughs.

"Next day Jaruk discovered that the Sahib had killed the other Goat
with his Firestick in the dark, thinking it was Rani.

"Of course, one Goat did not keep the hunger off very long; but for
three days we did not make another kill. Not but that we tried. Each
night we went close to the white caves, and Jaruk--I must say he had a
nose like a Vulture's eye--came back with a tale that the Sahibs were
watching with their Firesticks. But the next night we got another Goat.
Cunning Animals! but Jaruk used to laugh, and even coaxed Rani to make
a kill of one of the Men-kind.

"Then one night we crept as before, close for a kill, and Jaruk came
back to us laughing as though there wasn't a Sahib in all the Marri
country. Rani growled at him for a fool. Waugh-houk! did he mean to
have us all killed with his noise? And who was to do the killing, Jaruk
asked mockingly, for the white caves were empty, he said. The Sahibs,
and even the black-faced kind, had all gone away, and left the Goats
and Sheep for the pleasure of our kill.

"'It's a Raji (war), I'm sure,' he said; 'and they have gone out
amongst the Pathans to kill and be killed, and while they are at it we,
who are possessed of a great hunger, will make a kill of the Goats and
Sheep.'

"At this we went more boldly than before; but it was only a trap. These
of the Men-kind whom we had likened to young Owls, were up on the hill
behind a stone sangar; and just as we came to the Goats in the bright
moonlight there was such a crashing of Firesticks, and appearing of
what Mooswa calls the Man Fire, that I hope I may never see it again.
Rani was killed, as also was--which was not so bad--Jaruk the Hyena. I
had a paw broken, which to this day makes me go lame.

"Then the Men-kind rushed down, and the black-faced ones were for
killing me also; but one of the Sahibs, speaking, said: 'This is a Cub.
We will send him to Sa'-zada.'"

White Leopard ceased speaking, and Sa'-zada, putting his hand in
between the bars, patted his paw, and said: "Poor old Chita! it may not
be so nice here as in your own land, but we'll see that you do not go
hungry, anyway. Now, Rufous, my big Yellow Leopard, you should also
have an interesting account of yourself to give."

"Quite likely," exclaimed Magh; "we'll hear some more rare boasting,
I'll warrant."

"A true tale is no boast," said Mooswa, solemnly. "I, who have had
strange adventures, think it no harm to talk them over."

"Oh, you'll have a chance, Fat Nose!" retorted Magh; "but first let us
have a good, hearty lie from Leopard."

"There will be no lies," declared Sa'-zada, "for I have all these
matters in The Book--though they are not half so interestingly written,
I must say, as you can tell them yourselves, if you are so minded."

"Phrut!" muttered Hathi through his big trunk. "We'll have the lies as
spice--that will be when Magh's turn comes."

Thus appealed to, Yellow Leopard commenced: "I came from a jungle
land--Burma."

"My home," muttered Hathi, longingly.

"It may have been the year White Chita speaks of, for I remember I was
also wondrous hungry----"

"You always are," sneered Magh.

"Because I have not a paunch that holds a thief's load, whether it be
fish, fruit or filth," retorted Rufous. "But, as I was saying when this
Goat-faced Ape interrupted me, I was hungry, and, walking through the
thick jungle, discovered a Bullock--young, of great fatness. By a rare
chance it seemed caught in a branch of the elephant creeper----"

"Elephant what?" muttered Hathi. "Not of our kind. We have naught to do
with the killing of any young."

Sa'-zada explained: "Yellow Leopard means the giant jungle vine called
'elephant creeper,' which runs for perhaps the length of a mile, and is
so strong that it pulls down great trees and smothers them in its
grasp."

"Oh, jungle wood," cried Hathi, much relieved, "that's an elephant of
another color."

"I shikarried the small Bullock most carefully," continued Rufous.
"Round and round I went, taking the wind from every quarter; there was
the scent of nothing but the white jasmine, and the yellow-hearted
champac. When he saw me the Bullock-young became stupid with much fear;
the two of us stood facing each other. He pulled back tight on the
thing that held him, watching me with eyes that seemed as big as the
black spots on my ears. I crept closer, and closer, and closer; for
that is always the way with my kind; whether the prey be small or
great, we kill after the same manner always. Brothers, know you aught
of fear? We of the Blood-kind know it well. The Bullock's legs shivered
like leaves that tremble in the wind; and he asked me with his big eyes
to go away and not take him by the throat for his blood. How did he
know that, Brothers--how did he know that I was not coming like one of
his own kind to help him in his trouble? And the fear that I speak of
was in his eyes.

"With a roar, Waugh-hough! I charged full at him; my strong jaws
fastened on his throat, and, with a quick turn upwards, I threw him on
his back, and his neck was broken. Ghu-r-r-r-h! Whur-r-r-h! his young
blood was sweet as it trickled into my jaws, for I was so hungry. Not
that I drank his blood--that is a lie of the Men-kind who know little
of our ways."

"They're all alike," chattered Magh; "they murder, and it is all right
because they are hungry."

"Yes," retorted Yellow Leopard, "if I alone made a kill perhaps that
would be wrong; but we are all alike--it is our way of life. You are an
evil-looking, flea-covered, pot-bellied Monkey, but your kind are all
alike, so that is also your excuse."

Hathi shoved the tip of his trunk in his mouth, pretending to pick his
teeth, but really to smother the laughter that fairly shook his huge
sides.

"By a find of much eating!" ejaculated Gidar. "How I wish I had been
with you, Killer of Cattle. A whole Bullock! Eating of the choicest
kind for three days at least. Often for the length of that time have I
searched through a famine-stricken village in my native land, and in
the end achieved nothing, in the matter of food, but a pot of hot rice
water thrown on my back by a Boberchie (cook)--an opium-eating stealer
of his Master's goods."

"Would that you had been in my place," sneered Yellow Leopard, "for
even as I was going away with my kill----"

"Squee-squee-squee!" interrupted Magh with a sneering laugh. "Even I,
who am a Tree Dweller of little knowledge, knew that a tale from this
Cut-throat would soon run into a lie of great strength. May I kiss the
Tiger if I believe that Chita carried away a young Bullock."

[Illustration: "THE THING THAT HAD ME BY THE PAW WAS OF A FIENDISH
KIND."]

"You are wrong, Magh," reproved Sa'-zada; "in my hunting days have I
seen even Bhainsa, the tame Buffalo, who is like unto a small Elephant,
carried a full half-mile by Bagh."

"Yes," asserted Yellow Leopard, "had the kill been an Ape like unto
Magh, I had bolted it at one mouthful lest the sight of it made me ill.
As I was saying, I took the young Bullock in my mouth, but at the first
step my forepaw was lifted by something of great strength. I was
surprised, for I had seen nothing--nothing but the kill. The thing that
had me by the paw was of a fiendish kind. Jungle-wisdom! but I was at a
loss. Dropping my prey I tried first this way and then that to break
away, but it gave with me every time, and when I was tired lifted me to
my hind legs, for the pull was always upward."

"Was it a Naht?" queried Hathi. "One of the Burmese jungle Spirits that
live in the Leppan Tree?"

"You were snared," declared Sa'-zada; "I know, I've seen it. A strong
green bamboo bent down, the snare fastened to it, and once over your
paw--no wonder you were on your hind legs most of the time like a
dancing Dervish."

"Why did you not bite it off?" queried Wolf.

"Neither would you," answered Leopard; "though I tried. The evil-minded
Men seemed to know just what I would do, and had put a big loose bamboo
over the cord. It was always down against my paw, and simply whirled
about from my teeth."

"Why didn't you trumpet?" asked Elephant.

"I haven't a bugle nose like you, Brother; but I roared till the jungle
shook in fear--even at the risk of bringing about me the Jungle Dogs,
who hunt in packs, as you all know."

"Whee-ugh!" whined Boar; "Baola, the mad kind. Nothing can stand
against them. When they drive, the jungle is swept clean. Better to die
in peace than make a noise and be torn to pieces by their ugly fangs."

"And who came?" queried Magh. "I suppose you were like the Bullock, and
your eyes grew big with the fear, and you begged them to go away and
not hurt you. It was all right when you were to make the kill
yourself--it was fine sport. Bah! I'm glad you were snared--I hate a
taker of life."

"The Men-kind came," answered Leopard meekly, for the mention of his
fear made him abashed; "and seeing that I was caught, a Sahib would not
let the Black-Men kill me, but set them to make a strong Bamboo cage. I
was put in that and sent here to Sa'-zada."

"I've been thinking," began Mooswa, plaintively.

"Well, now!" exclaimed Magh; "I thought you were asleep, Old Heavy-eye.
If you think with your nose, your thoughts must have been of great
importance."

Mooswa sniffed solemnly and continued: "You said you were hungry,
Yellow Leopard. Was it not a land of much good feeding?"

"It was a bad year--a year of starvation," answered Chita. "Up to that
time the way of my life had been smooth, for I had found the manner of
an easy kill. To be sure, Soor is not the pick of all good food----"

"'Soor,' indeed!" grunted Wild Boar. "Ugh, ugh, ugh! by the length of
my tusks you would have found me tough eating."

"You see," continued Chita, paying no attention to this interruption,
"the wild Pigs were horrid thieves----"

"You were well mated," mumbled Magh, stuffing a handful of peanut
shells in Hathi's ear.

"They used to go at night to the rice fields of the poor natives, and
chew and chew, and grunt, and row amongst themselves, until the
Men-kind were nearly ruined because of their greediness."

"But they did not eat the natives," objected Boar.

"Neither did I," protested Chita--"while the Pigs lasted," he muttered
to himself. "Knowing of all this, I made out a new kill-plan. At the
first beginning of dark time I would go quietly down to the rice
fields, hide myself in the straw that was near to the place where the
Men-kind tramped the grain from its stalk with Buffalo, and wait for
the coming of the rice thieves. Soon one dark shadow would slip from
the jungle, then another, and another, until they were many.

"'Chop, chop, chop!' I'd hear their wet mouths going in the rice; and
all the time growling and whining amongst themselves because of the
labor it was, and for fear that one had better chance than another; not
in peace, but with many rows, striking sideways at each other with
their coarse, ugly heads."

"You're a beauty!" commented Wild Boar. "When you shove your ugly face
up to the bars the women-kind scream, and jump back--I've noticed
that."

"Presently," continued Chita, "one would come my way, seeing the great
pile of straw, and I'd have him. Jungle Dwellers! how he'd squeal; and
his mates would scurry away jinking and bounding like Kakur Deer.
Cowardly swine they were. Now, Buffalo, when one of my kind charged
them, would throw themselves together like men of the war-kind, and
stand shoulder to shoulder."

"Yes; but, great Cat," objected Boar, "you took care to seize upon a
young one, I warrant. Suppose you come out here and try a charge with
me. Ugh, ugh! I'll soon slit up your lean sides with my sharp tusks."

"Be still!" commanded Sa'-zada; "here we are all friends, and this is
but a tale of what has been."

Chita had turned in a rage at Boar's taunt, and glared through the
bars, his great fangs bared, and tail lashing his sides. When the
Keeper spoke he snarled in disdain at the bristling Pig, and continued
the story.

"Then came the hungry year. At the turning of the monsoons there should
have been rain, but no rain came. All through the cold weather the
jungle had gone on drying up, and the grass turned brown, even to the
color of my coat. The Tree-Crickets and Toads whistled shrill and loud,
until the jungle was like a great nest of the sweet-feeders--the Bees.
Then when it was time for rain there was only more dryness.

"The yellow-clothed Phoongyis (Priests) prayed; and the Men-kind
brought sweetmeats and sheet-gold to their God Buddha; but still there
was no rain. Miles and miles I traveled for a drink; and if I made a
kill at the pool it was nothing but skin and bones. The small Deer that
bark, what were they? Not a mouthful. And the Pigs shriveled up until
one might as well have eaten straw. The Nilgai and the Sambhur-deer, as
big as you, Mooswa, went away from that land of desolation, and soon
nothing seemed to stir in all the jungle but the Koel Bird; and his cry
of 'fee-e-ever!' forever ringing in my ears drove me full mad.

"Then it was that I stalked close to the place of the Men-kind--though
I had never killed a Bullock before--and I made a kill. But after that
they took the Bullocks under their houses at night, thinking I would
not venture so close.

"But hunger is the death of all fear, and even there I made a kill.
Then again the Men-kind, in their selfishness, thought to outwit me,
for about the small village they built a stockade."

"Were there no guns?" queried Hathi. "I, who have been in a big hunt
with the Men-kind, have had them on my back with the fierce-striking
guns, and all that was in the jungle presently fell dead."

Chita laughed disagreeably.

"I almost forgot about that. One day, when they were still at the
stockade making, I saw one of these Yellow-faced Men tying two sticks
together and sticking them in the ground, somewhat after the fashion of
Mooswa's hind legs. Then surely it was a gun he put in the crotch of
the sticks, pointing at the little runway I had made for myself.

"I went into the elephant-grass that grew thereabout, and watching him
took thought of this thing. 'It is to do me harm,' I said, 'for is not
that my road? Always now I will come a little to one side, because of
this new thing.'

"And in the evening, as I came to the village, walking through the same
coarse grass, but to one side, mind you, there saw I two of these Men
sitting behind this thing that was surely a gun.

"Only, because of thee, Sa'-zada, perhaps this part were better not in
the story."

"If it is a true tale it is a true tale," quoth Hathi, sententiously;
"and, as the good Sa'-zada has said, of things that have happened."

"Oh, tell it all," commented the Keeper.

"Only say first you were hungry," sneered Magh; "hunger covers many
sins."

"Yes; I was hungry," moaned Chita; "chee-wough! so hungry. The Bullock
I had killed was but a collection of bones tied up in a thick skin; I
broke a good tooth trying to get a supper off him. And were not the
Men-kind trying to do evil for me also, little nut-eater, Magh? They
would take my skin to the Sahib and get much profit in bounty. I heard
them say that as I lay in the thick grass. I crept close, close----"

"Behind them," volunteered Wolf, "I know. You didn't look in their
eyes, Brother, did you?"

"They were busy talking," declared Chita, "and did not look my way.
Suddenly I sprang out just to frighten them, for they were close to the
stockade, and one ran away."

"Only one?" demanded Mooswa, simply.

But Chita had gone over to the corner of his cage, and sitting down,
was swinging his big head back and forth, back and forth, with his face
turned to the wall, like a Dog that has been whipped.

"He has caught Sa'-zada's eye," whispered Magh in Hathi's ear.

"It's a nasty tale," said the Keeper, "but I think it is true."

"Yes; it is true," declared Wild Boar; "that is the way of his kind."

"Then," said Sa'-zada, "they got this Sahib who has written in The
Book, and set the snare for Chita and caught him."

"At any rate, you were caught," muttered Hathi; "and from what you say,
it seems to me a change for the better."

"Now, Pardus," cried the Keeper, gently tapping Panther's tail, which
hung through between the bars, "tell us of the manner of your taking."

"I was caught twice," replied Pardus, blinking his eyes lazily, and
yawning until the great teeth shone white against his black coat; "but
you are right to call me Panther, for I am no Leopard. And it is so hot
here and dry; quite like the place they took me to--they of the black
faces--when I was first caught, being not more than a full-grown Cub,
as was White Leopard. That was at Vizianagram, up in the hills; but the
hills were not like White Leopard's, all hot and dry. The jungle was
cool and fresh, and full of dark places to hide in, with deep pools of
sweet water that one might drink after a kill. Here the Birds do
nothing but scream and scold; Hornbill, and Cockatoo, and Eagle make my
head ache with their harsh voices; there, if a Bird had occasion to
speak, it was a song about the sweet land he lived in. It is well
enough for Hathi to say that being trapped and brought here is a piece
of great luck; for my part, all day long I do nothing but think, think
of the Madras Hills. There were mango and tamarind, and peepul, and
huge banyan trees, with strong limbs stretching so far that one could
walk out full over the Deer paths, and wait in sweet content for a
kill. Perhaps even a big family of bamboos growing up about one's
resting-place, and whispering when the wind blew, and closing up their
thick green leaves to make shade when the sun shone.

"Even where the Men-kind came and sought to grow raji were plantain
trees and palm trees--Urgh-h-ah! why should there be anything but
jungle all over the world, it is so beautiful?"

"Don't cry about it, Little Bagheela," sneered Magh, "for surely
there's some sort of a story, some wondrous lie, in that head of
yours."

"True," continued Pardus, as though he had not caught Magh's
observation, "there were disagreeable things even there. Of course, it
will always be that way when the Bandar-log, the Monkeys, are about.
Silly-headed thieves, they were doing no manner of good to any one; but
more than once, when I've lain for hours waiting for the chance of a
small kill, and the time of the eating had drawn near, everything would
be upset by the mad laugh of Lungour, the Bandar-log.

"But I was caught, as Leopard has said, through the coming together of
a lean stomach and a trap of the Men-kind--neither a snare, nor the
Fire-stick, but a cage with a door that fell. True, inside was a Goat,
but what mattered that once the door was down?

"Then they brought me down to the Raja's palace in the Plains.
Stricken land! that was a place for any one to choose as a
home--nothing but red earth, with less growth than there is on the end
of my nose. The Men-kind lived in great square caves that blared white
in the sun. Me-thinks White Leopard would have felt more at home there
than I did."

"What did those of our kind eat?" queried Hathi. "Also, where the
Men-kind are is the Animal they call Horse, who is a Grass-eater--was
there no grass?"

"Scarce any," answered Pardus; "the Black-faced ones ran here and there
with sharp claws, taking up the poor grass by the root, and all for the
Raja's stables."

"What did they do with you, Bagheela?" asked Magh, anxious to hear the
story, for she was getting sleepy.

"Put me in a cage in the rose garden, where were others of my
kind--only they were of the color of Yellow Leopard. Of course, at
first I thought it was because the Raja was not hungry, and would eat
me another day; but in the next cage was a Leopard who had been there a
long time, and he told me why we were shut up that way. 'It's for
shikar,' he said. 'Soon all the Sahibs will gather, and we will be
turned loose, and they will kill us with spears and the firestick.'"

"That's right," commented Sa'-zada, nodding his head, "I've seen it;
also is it written in The Book. The Raja was a great sportsman, and
each year at Christmas time they had a hunt of this kind."

"My Mate taught me a trick or two that helped pass the time," continued
Black Panther. "'Bagheela,' he said to me, 'they will come to us here
on Horses; you who have the end cage may perchance keep your hand in,
and forget not the manner of a quick clutch with your paw. First, purr
and look sleepy,' he advised; 'second, never strike when the Horse is
beyond reach, for he is a creature of much fear; third, wait, wait,
wait--have patience, Little Bagheela. Also, from in front nothing is
done; but stand you ready at the end of your cage, which is a wall,
because there they cannot see you, and if the Man comes close, strike
quick and sure, for of this manner there is never but one chance.'

"Now, it happened that a fat Sahib came often to the cage, and I could
see that it was to teach the Horses not to be afraid of us. It was hard
to mind what my Mate said, for the Sahib poked me in the ribs with a
stick, or tickled me in the face with his riding-whip; but Yellow
Leopard was always whispering through his whiskers, 'Wait, wait,
wait--have patience, Little Bagheela.'"

"This is a long tale," whined Magh, sleepily.

"Keep still, Little One," objected Hathi, "no great stalk is ever done
in a hurry."

"One day," continued Pardus, "I heard the Horse coming by the end of my
cage.

"'Quick! Up!' called my Mate, Yellow Leopard.

"Like a spring on a Buck I was up on my hind legs against the end wall,
just at the last iron bar, ready. Around the corner came the Sahib
quite close. It was a new Horse, and he thought to take pleasure out of
frightening the poor Animal by a sudden sight of us.

"Waugh-houk! With a strong reach I had the Sahib by the leg.

"Whoo-whoo, waugh-waugh, whoo-o-o-o-waugh! how he roared. Of course, I
did not get him altogether, for the Horse saved his life by jumping
sideways. I licked the blood that was on my claws, and Yellow Leopard
and I both laughed till the Keeper came running with a sharp iron bar."

"I warrant you didn't laugh then," chimed in Magh.

"No; he beat me, though it was all Yellow Leopard's fault. The fat
Sahib swore that he would have the first spear in when I was let out at
the time of the hunt. He was for having me killed in the cage; but the
Raja said, 'No; his turn will come in the Shikar'; and when the Raja
spoke there was an end of all argument.

"'Little Bagheela,' said Yellow Leopard to me, 'we will get away to the
jungles together at the hunt time. If they let you out first--never
fear, Little One, you will have a start, for that is the Raja's way,
we are to have a show for our lives, though I warrant one cannot get
very far in five minutes--do you run very fast, and when you have come
to the small mud-caves of the Black-kind, hide in the place where the
Bullocks are kept. They will not look for you there, and not finding
you they will come back, thinking you have gone to the jungles. When I
am let out, I, too, will go that way, and together nothing will stand
between us and the hills. Should I go first I will wait for you.'

"Then one day a cage that was on wheels was put against the door behind
which I was kept, and with bars that were hot they drove me into it.
Then I was taken out to the fields, and when the Sahibs--there were
many of them--had gone back on the road, the door was opened. Would you
believe it, Friends, though I had been eating my heart out behind the
bars yonder, now that I had the chance, I was almost afraid to venture
on the plain. Even as I crept forth, a yellow-leafed bush suddenly bent
in the wind, and I sprang into the air as though it were the charge of
a Wild Boar----"

"Listen to that, Friends," grunted Soor; "of all Jungle Dwellers, he
has most fear of me."

"But remembering what Yellow Leopard had said, I ran swiftly toward the
little village that was between me and the hills; but not straight in
the open, mind you--I had not lived by the kill in the jungle for
nothing. First I leaped full over a long line of the fierce-pointed
aloe bush----"

"Phrut! I know that plant," muttered Hathi; "it has points sharper than
the goad of any Mahout. Sore toes! but I know it well."

"Even so," continued Pardus, "I ran swiftly along in the shadow of
this, and soon found a Bullock cave such as Yellow Leopard spoke of. In
the end the Men-kind could not find me, for I lay still, though once I
heard the voice of the fat Sahib quite close, swearing that he longed
for a sight of the 'black brute.' That was not my name, for I am Pardus
the Panther.

"After a little I heard more shouting; then there was a rustling noise
which I knew was the gallop of Yellow Leopard. He was calling as he
ran, 'Ehow-Ehow-Hough, Bagheela!' just as we call to our Mates in the
jungle.

"'A-Houk! here am I,' I cried, rushing out, thinking that we would soon
be safe in the cool jungle again. And away we dashed. By the loss of a
Kill! we had not gone far till almost in front of us we saw the fat
Sahib and three others on their Horses full in our path.

"'Oh-ho, my Black Beauty!' he cried, when he saw me; 'now we'll wipe
out the score.'"

"That's like the Men-kind," growled Raj Bagh, the Tiger; "they cage us
and kill us, and if we so much as raise a claw in defence of our lives
we are reviled, and they have a score against us to wipe out."

[Illustration: "AND AWAY WE DASHED."]

"Yes," asserted Pardus, "and long holding in their hate, too. If we
fail in a kill, do we go long hungered, turning from everything else
until we have slain the one that has escaped us? But there was the fat
Sahib, who had not gone back with the others, but was still searching
to kill me, Black Panther. Surely that was not what they call shikar
(sport), but a matter of hate he had laid up against me."

"You should have taken his beatings," declared Hathi, "even as I have,
more times than there are tusks to your paws; phrut, phrut! it has
always been that way with us Jungle Dwellers. When the Sahib beat us it
is evil fortune if we do not let it rest at that. True, there was a
Mahout once that went too far--but what am I saying? surely I am half
asleep. It is your story, Bagheela--you were saying that the fat Sahib
had killed you--I mean----"

"Yes," said Pardus, "the fat Sahib--I stopped; so did Yellow Leopard,
with an angry growl. Then behind I heard a little trumpet from Hathi."

"Not me," exclaimed the big Elephant; "I wasn't there."

"Most surely it is a wondrous lie," declared Magh; "and now he asks
Ganesh to say he was there and saw it."

"No, no!" interrupted Sa'-zada, "it was another Elephant."

"Even so," affirmed Pardus; "and on his back was the Raja, coming in
great haste.

"'Charge!' roared Yellow Leopard to me, and with a rush that was full
of wickedness he went straight for the fat Sahib; and before I knew how
it was done, had broken his neck with the hold that we all know so
well.

"The Raja, without waiting for Hathi to kneel, jumped from his back,
and rushing like the charge of a Sambhur, drove his spear through
Yellow Leopard as he still held the Sahib by the throat, and killed
him. Well I remember the spear was buried head deep in the ground.

"In fear, I raced back to the mud-caves in which were the Bullocks; and
they brought the cage again and put it to the door. But I was afraid to
enter till they dropped fire on me from above. Then I was taken back to
my old quarters, and in the end sent here to Sa'-zada."

"It's a pity the Sahib was killed," said the Keeper; "it was a horrible
death."

"I was sorry for Yellow Leopard," declared Pardus, "for he tried to get
me away with him to the jungles."

"Chee-chee! but I am sleepy," yawned Magh, sliding down Hathi's trunk
with the Pup under her arm. "These tales of killings are enough to make
one have bad dreams."

"Dreams!" exclaimed Sher Abi, opening his eyes, for he had been sound
asleep; "to be sure, to be sure! I've had a very bad dream. One should
not eat so much; but after all, I suppose it is the feathers that are
indigestible. E-ugh-h! Sa'-zada, could you not pluck the chickens
before you give them me to eat? There was a time when I could
digest----"

"Oh, move along, Magar!" interrupted Sa'-zada; "it is bed-time now.
You'll have a chance to talk some other night."

And presently the Animal town of the Greater City was quiet, save for
the bubble of Camel's long throat, and the gentle snore of Hathi's
pendulous nose. The moon blinked curiously through the whispering
leaves, and over all there was the solemn hush that comes in the night
when the days are days of fierce heat.




Second Night

The Story of Hathi Ganesh, the White-Eared Elephant

[Illustration]

[Illustration]




SECOND NIGHT

THE STORY OF HATHI GANESH, THE WHITE-EARED ELEPHANT


It was very hot. The Summer moon, pushing lazily through the whispering
tracery of tall elm trees that cut the night sky, fell upon the same
group of forest friends gathered in front of Tiger's cage that had been
there the previous evening, when the Leopard brothers had discoursed so
pleasantly of their Jungle life.

"What is the tale to-night, Sa'-zada, loved Master?" asked Magh, the
Ourang-Outang, standing with one hand on Mooswa's back, who was lying
down.

"It is the talk of Hathi," answered the Keeper.

Hathi could be heard blowing softly through his trunk to clear his
throat, then he began his story:

"We were a mighty herd, all of forty, with two great Bulls in charge, I
remember; though to be sure when it came to be a matter of danger they
seemed to forget all about being in charge and cleared off as fast as
they could. I soon got to know that the herd was very proud of me."

"I should think they would be, my big beauty," cried Magh, patting his
forehead affectionately.

"You see," continued Hathi, "these white and pink spots all over my
neck and ears were a sign that great luck had come to the herd. Even
the Men-kind--but that, of course, I discovered years after at
Ava--even the Men-kind looked upon me as sacred, being a White
Elephant. Besides, I had but the one tusk, the right, and that is why I
am Ganesh, the Holy One.

"We wandered about in the Jungle, and when we Babe Elephants were
tired, the whole herd waited until we had rested and fed. That's why
the Bulls had nothing to do with leading the herd. They knew little of
what a calf could stand, so Mah, my Mother, always gave the signal when
we were to start or stop. I think she was very proud of being the
mother of the lucky Calf.

"But it was a lovely land to dwell in; all hills and valleys with
plenty of cover; and down in the flat lands the Men grew raji and rice,
and plantains.

"I think there must be some very wise animal who arranges all these
things--puts each one in the Jungle he likes best. Pardus was happy in
his hills, and White Chita liked the snow mountains, and Yellow Leopard
the rice fields; and Mooswa has told me when we've talked together,
that on the far side of his lands are the loveliest spruce forests any
Moose could wish to live in."

"Perhaps it was Sa'-zada or one of his kind," ventured Muskwa, the
Bear.

"It is God who arranges it," declared the Keeper, in a soft voice.

"I don't know who that may be," muttered Hathi, "but I thought there
was someone. Such a lovely Jungle it was; tall teak trees and pinkado,
and Telsapa from which the Men-kind drew oil for their fires.

"For days, and weeks, and months it would be hot and dry; and then
three times the big flower would come out on the padouk tree, and all
the Elephants would laugh and squeal with their trunks, for they knew
the rain would surely come. Yes, when we could see for the third time a
big cluster of flowers, patter, patter on the leaves we could hear the
rain, and soon drip, drip, drip, trickle it would come down on our
backs, washing the dust and little sticks out of every wrinkle until
even the old Bulls would commence to play like Calves.

"We finally came to a big river early in the morning, and every one
went in for a wash. Mind, I was only a babe about the size of a
Buffalo. The old ones lay down in the river, just keeping their trunks
out to breathe, and I thought to do the same, of course; but when I
flopped over on my side--bad footing! there was nothing anywhere but
soft, slippery water--there was quite a thousand miles of it, and dark
as the blackest night. I could see nothing, hear nothing only the
angry talk of the water that ran fast. They said that I screamed like a
young pig. Then something strong grabbed me by the hind leg, and pulled
me out up on the bank--it was Mah. She scolded roundly. Then she
spanked me good and hard.

"All that season I was not allowed to go in the water again. Mah washed
me down with her trunk, squirting the water over me.

"The eating was sweet in those Jungles; but best of all I liked the
young plantains when they were just beyond the blossom age, all wrapped
up in a big leaf, and juicy, and sweet.

"The first happening was from an evil-minded Bagh (tiger). That evening
I had wandered a little to one side, not knowing it, and Bagh, with a
fierce word in his big throat, jumped full on my head. Of course I
screamed----"

"Like a Pig," interjected Boar.

"Like a Babe Hathi," corrected Elephant. "And Mah, who had been looking
for me, just in the nick of time threw Bagh many yards into the Jungle
with her trunk. I don't know how other animals get along without a
trunk; it seems just suited for every purpose.

[Illustration: "THEN SOMETHING STRONG GRABBED ME BY THE HIND LEG, AND
PULLED ME ..."]

"The next happening was worse, for it came from the Men-kind. It was a
hot, hot day. We were all standing on a hill in the shade of trees,
flapping our ears to keep the flies off, when suddenly Old Bull kinked
his head sideways, whistled softly through his trunk, and we all
stopped flapping to listen. Even Calf as I was, I knew there was some
danger near. In the wind there was nothing--nothing unusual, just the
sweet scent of the tiny little white flowers that grow close to the
short grass. But Old Bull was afraid; he gave a signal for us to move,
and we started.

"In a minute there was an awful cracking like the breaking of a tree,
only different, and we all ran here, there, everywhere. Of course since
that, having been taken in the hunt by the Men-kind, I know it was a
gun, as they call it.

"Old Bull charged straight for a little white cloud that rose from
where the noise had been; then crack! crack! crack! the guns trumpeted
all over the Jungle--but I won't tell any more of that happening,
because Old Bull was killed; and Mah, too--though the Men-kind said
afterwards, so I've heard, that it was a mistake, as they only killed
Bulls, being white hunters, for the sake of the feet and tusks.

"It was late in the evening before the herd gathered again, and we
traveled far, fearing the evil of the Men-kind."

"Was there no evil with your own people?" queried Wolf. "Just feeding,
and nothing else?"

"Well," answered Hathi, hesitatingly, "sometimes in a herd there grows
up one who is a 'Rogue.' We had one such, I remember. But that also
came about because of the Men-kind--a yellow man. It was a Hill-man,
and when this Rogue of whom I speak--he also was a Bull--was just full
grown, a matter of perhaps twenty years, this Hill-man thrust into his
head, from a distance, too, being seated in a tree, an arrow.

"The arrow remaining there as it did, caused this Bull to become of an
evil temper. Quarreling, quarreling always, butting his huge head into
a comrade because of a mere nothing; and with his tusks putting his
mark on many of us without cause; sometimes it would be a kick from his
forefoot, or a slap of his trunk. When we were near to the places of
the Men-kind he would wallow in the rice fields, and pull up the young
plantain trees by the roots, even knock the queer little houses they
lived in to pieces, for they were but of bamboo and leaves. Of course
the dwellers ran for their lives, and sometimes brought fire, and made
noise with their guns, and beat gongs to frighten him away.

"Many times we drove him forth from the herd; and sometimes he stayed
away himself for days, sulky. In the end we lost him altogether, and we
were all glad; but strange as it may appear, I saw him again in Rangoon
in the timber yards. That was after I was caught."

"Tell us about that happening," pleaded Sa'-zada, "for it is even not
written in The Book."

"I was taken in a manner full of deceit, and because I had faith in
those of my own kind. I was, perhaps, fifteen or twenty years old at
the time--but in a Hathi's life a year or two is of no moment, for we
are long-lived--and what might be called second in charge of the herd,
a condition of things which I resented somewhat, but the Herd Bull had
been leader while I was growing up, so there was no just claim on my
part really.

"And it happened in our wanderings that we came not far from the
greatest of all the Men's places in that land, Ava (Mandalay). One day
as I was pulling down the young bamboos and stripping the feathered
top, a strange _Hathni_ (female elephant) came to me and put her trunk
softly on my neck. She was all alone, and I felt sorry for her;
besides, she was nice--showed me such lovely places for good feeding. I
spent a whole day with her, and the next day, too, and as we went
through the jungle, suddenly we came to a sort of immense, strong
_hauda_. It wasn't a bit like the Men's _haudas_ that they live in,
else I should never have been deceived; great trunks of trees growing
up out of the ground straight, and close together, but no branches or
leaves to them; as square on top as the end of my leg. This
queer-looking jungle thing troubled me. 'What is it?' I asked Hathni.

"'It's my home,' she replied; 'come in, Comrade.'"

"And of course the woman had her way," remarked Sa'-zada; "you went
into the parlor, Hathi, old chap, I suppose."

"Not by that name knew I it, Sa'-zada; they called it a Keddah, as I
found out. But I went in."

"And was caged," laughed Black Chita.

"Inside," continued Hathi, "was a winding path, and Hathni trotted down
this so fast that I lost her. A great wooden gate dropped behind me,
and I knew that I was in a trap. It was a big place, but no openings to
get out.

"Then the Men-kind showed their yellow faces all over the walls, just
like _Hanumen_--the gray-whiskered Monkey of those parts.

"'A White Elephant at last, at last!' they cried; 'now will the King be
pleased.'

"I was left alone that night, but the next day the Men-kind came with
two ruffianly Bulls of my kind who bunted and bustled me about, and
fought me, while the men slipped great strong ropes over my legs. In a
week I was that tired and sore from this treatment that I was ready to
go any place. Then I was taken to Ava; and such doings! I dislike to
tell it all; it's hardly modest.

"They put a silk covering over me to keep the Flies off, and a garland
of white jasmine flowers about my neck--sweet-smelling flowers they
were; in my ears two big red stones of the ruby kind were placed; and
always as I walked a great silk umbrella was over my head. And as for
eating--humpf, humpf, humpf! they just made me ill with sweets to be
eaten out of gold dishes."

[Illustration: "TWO RUFFIANLY BULLS ... FOUGHT ME WHILE THE MEN SLIPPED
GREAT STRONG ROPES OVER MY LEGS."]

"Is this a true tale, O Sa'-zada?" queried Black Leopard. "For one of
the jungle folk it is a strange happening."

"It is true," replied the Keeper; "that was the way with the White
Elephant at the Burma King's court, it is written in another book I
have read."

"And no one was allowed to ride on my back but the King," declared
Hathi, "excepting, of course, the Mahout. As I walked I was afraid of
stepping on some one; the Men-kind were forever flopping down on their
knees to worship me. It was this way for years; then one season there
came war; great guns spoke with a roar louder than Bagh's; and vast
herds of the white-faced Men-kind came, letting free the blood of the
yellow-faced ones; and in the end I was taken away, and sent down to
Rangoon, and put to work in the timber yards. There was no worship, and
few sweetmeats, and for silk covering I was given a harness with
leather collar and chain traces. It was like being back in the jungle
again--I was just a common Hathi, only I was called there Raj Singh.

"It was at that time I met the Bull who was a Rogue. He was also
working in the timber yards, but it had done him much good--his temper
was improved."

"Was it kind treatment cured him?" asked Sa'-zada.

"No," replied Hathi; "they whipped him into a gentle behavior. Two big
Bulls with heavy iron chains swinging from their trunks thrashed him
until he promised to cease making trouble. But one day he broke out
bad, and smashed everything--tore the Master's dogcart to pieces,
knocked the Cooly's _haudas_ down, and trumpeted like an evil jungle
spirit. He even killed his Mahout, which was a silly thing, though he
declared his driver, the Mahout, sitting up on his back, one foot on
either side, had prodded viciously at his head until poor Rogue's blood
was on fire.

"But in the end they sent me away to Sa'-zada, and I am quite content";
and reaching his big trunk over to the Keeper, Hathi caressed the
latter's cheek lovingly.

"Oh, we are all content," declared Magh; "for Sa'-zada is a kind and
gentle Master."

"Now, all to your cages and your pens," cried the Keeper, "for it is
late. To-morrow night, perhaps, we shall have the tale of Gidar, the
Jackal."




Third Night

The Stories of Gidar, the Jackal, and Coyote, the Prairie Wolf

[Illustration]

[Illustration]




THIRD NIGHT

THE STORIES OF GIDAR, THE JACKAL, AND COYOTE, THE PRAIRIE WOLF


"To-night," commenced Sa'-zada, "we are to have the interesting life
story of the two half-brothers, Gidar and Coyote."

"A thief's tale of a certainty," chuckled Magh.

"In my land, which was Burma, there were none so useful as we," began
Gidar. "Not of high repute our mission, perhaps, but still useful,
being scavengers; and to this end we are all born with a fair appetite;
but useful always, even Bagh knows that. I was Lieutenant to one of his
kind--a great killer he was--for a matter of two years. Then he came by
way of a dispute with the Men-kind, and they finished him in short
order.

"Now, you know, Brothers, our kind have steadily worked southward from
India, pushing into new lands from all time, even like the Sahibs,
until we are now half down through Burma. It must be a dull land that
has not our sweet song at night. If there were but a Pack here now we'd
sing you a rare chorus."

"I've heard the song," quoth Bagh; "it's wretched."

"How goes it?" asked Wolf. "Our Pack has a cry of great strength; the
'bells of the forest,' the Redmen call it."

"It's somewhat this way," said Jackal, and sitting on his haunches he
raised his long, sharp nozzle high in air, stretching his lean throat
toward the moon that glinted fretfully through the swaying trees; and
on the still, quiet night air floated his cry of far-off India:

     "'_Oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-o-o-o-o-o!
     I smell a dead Hindoo-oo!_'

"That would be my cry, Brothers. Then from all quarters of the jungle
the Pack would take up the song and sing back:

     "'_Where, where, where, where, where, where?_'

"And I would answer back cheerily:

     "'_Here, here, here, here, here, here!_'

"Then all together we would sing with all our lungs:

     "'_Oo-oo-oo-o-o-o-o-h
     Mussulman or Hind-oo?
     Here, there, or anywhere,
     All flesh is flesh, we do not care._'"

"A charming song," sneered Magh.

"Ah, I cannot give it right; you should have heard it, little
Eater-of-sour-fruit, in the dead closeness of a Burman jungle, from the
many throats of a hungry Pack.

"The people of that land liked the song full well, and they never
molested us. But life was one continuous struggle for food. We were not
slayers like Chita, or Bagh, or Python; or stealers of crops like Boar
and Rogue Hathi; almost as simple in our way of life as Mooswa.

"I remember once a fat Dog-pup of the Terrier kind, which I bagged. It
was all the fault of the Pup's master; he tried to kill me."

"You had probably been singing to him," said Sa'-zada.

"We had, I admit," answered Jackal. "It was on Borongo Island; two men,
Sahibs they were called there, you know, lived in a bungalow built on
high posts, after the manner of all houses in that land. The bungalow
was built on the shore, and every day the water came up under it, and
then went back again. This was a most wise arrangement of the water's
traveling, for it threw up many a dead Fish and Crab for our eating.

"Well I remember the cook-house was a little to one side from the
bungalow, with a poor, ill-conditioned bamboo door to it. Regularly,
doing our scavenger work, we used to clean up that cook-house, eating
everything the servant-kind had not devoured. Several times I made a
great find in that very place, for the cook, it appears, was a most
forgetful fellow. When there was nothing left for us in the way of
food, we'd carry off the pots and pans into the jungle grass; why, I
hardly know, but it seemed proper to do so.

"Neither do I know which of the Pack first started singing under the
bungalow; but this also afforded us much content. Many hours on in the
dark we'd all steal gently down from the jungle, and gather under the
house. Then, as one, we'd give voice to the hunger cry together, until
even the Sahibs would shout in fear. It was good to make the Men-kind
afraid; but also we would flee swiftly, for the two Sahibs would rush
out like a jackal that had suddenly become possessed of much poisoned
meat, and 'bang, bang, bang' with the guns.

"I had much to do with Men, and just when I thought they were full
cross because of our serenade, what was my surprise to find each
evening a full measure of rice put in a certain place for me. 'It is
full of the datura' (poison), I thought, and watched while a lean
Pariah Dog from the village ate it. But there was nothing wrong with
it. So the next evening I made haste to get a full share of it myself.
As I ate, hurriedly I must say, twang-g! came a mighty Boar-spear.

"But only the shaft of it struck my back, so I made off with great
diligence. I heard the Sahib say as he picked up the spear, 'Missed
him, by Jove!' You see, he had been hiding in a corner of the bungalow.
But I was hungry, and the rice was good--most delicious--so I crept
back with two comrades, and keeping to the thick grass, stalked the
bungalow most carefully. I saw the Sahibs all at their eating, for the
door was open, it being hot; you see, he thought I wouldn't come back
so soon.

"'I will eat with you,' I said, and made straight for the rice; but it
was nearly all gone; the Terrier Pup of which I have spoken, and which
belonged to this very Sahib who had thrown the spear, was just
finishing his Master's bait.

"'Oh, you wicked Dog!' I said, 'to steal my supper this way,' and
knowing that his master was in the habit of throwing spears at that
very spot, I picked him up and carried him to the jungle for safety.

"'Oh, oh E-u-u-h!' how he squealed, and the Men-kind left their eating,
and came rushing after us with much shouting, but it was dark and they
had no chance of catching us."

"And you ate the poor little fellow?" asked Mooswa.

"Horrible!" cried Magh, "to eat a Dog."

"Not at all bad stuffed with rice, I assure you," declared Gidar. "For
a day or two I kept more or less out of the way; I was afraid the
Sahibs might be very angry.

"It was two nights after this I discovered more rice some distance from
the bungalow in a pail which was sunk in the ground, and over this
stood a couple of posts that had not been there before. I remembered
that, so I sat by quietly watching this new thing, and trying to decide
what it might be.

"Now the Sahibs had two pigs, and as I watched, along came these two,
grunting, and shoving things about with their long noses, and presently
one of them discovered the rice in the pail.

"'Ugh, ugh, ugh!' said he, 'just a mouthful of this will do me good.'
You know, of course, a pig eats first and thinks after, so in this case
he plunged his big head in the pail, and 'zip! whang!' went something,
and before I could jump to my feet he was dangling in the air hung by
the neck; he didn't even have a chance to squeal. Of course his mate
took to his heels and cleared out, while I finished the rice, knowing
the evil was in the custody of my Squeaker friend. In the morning the
Pig was dead."

"It's a fine thief's tale," commented Magh, "but in the end they caught
you right enough."

"Not there," corrected Gidar; "that was another place. A Sahib who had
come to the jungle seeking dwellers for such places as this, made the
taking; but with him one might as well be caught first as last, for he
knew more of our ways than we knew of his. Now let Coyote speak; I am
tired."

"Does Coyote come from Burma, too, O Sa'-zada?" queried Magh.

"No, he's from Mooswa's country; from the great plains away in the far
West. There is not much in The Book about Coyote; that is, not much
that's good."

"I knew it," laughed Magh; "I've watched him there in his cage which is
opposite mine, day after day, and I never saw a smile on his face."

"You should be put in the cage with Hyena," declared Coyote, "if you
think an animal has got to grin all the time to be of fair nature. Or
of what use are you, little pot-belly, or the whole of your
tribe--Hanuman, Hooluk, or Chimpanzee--none of you worth the nuts you
eat; and yet you're always grinning and chattering, and playing fool
tricks about the cage. You're a fine one to judge your fellow
creatures."

"Coyote just sits there and scratches Fleas, and growls, and snaps at
his mate--he's a low-born sort of Wolf," continued Magh.

"He's not of our kind," declared Wolf; "it's all a lie."

"Never mind, never mind," cried Sa'-zada, "no doubt like all the rest
of us he has his good and bad qualities."

"I was once starving," resumed Coyote. "You who have lived in a warm
land where something is growing all the year round, know nothing of the
hunger that comes when the fierce blizzard blots out everything, and
there is only snow, snow, everywhere. Can one eat snow? It's all very
fine for you with a paunch full of candy to sit there and prate about
stealing, but if Wie-sak-ke-chack puts the hunger pains in one's
stomach and the fat bacon--Ghurr-h-h! but the juice of it is sweet when
one is near dead--puts the fat bacon behind log walls, what is one to
do, eh? Does a fellow dig, dig, dig through earth so hard that he must
bite it out with his teeth, dig deep under the log walls for sport as
the Cubs play in the sunshine, or just to steal? Bah, you who have
never known hunger know not of this thing. Why, once when the ground
was frozen hard, and I was dying inch by inch, some fierce-toothed
Animal inside me biting, biting--only of course it was the hunger
chewing at my stomach--I dove fair through the window of a log shack to
get at the meat inside. The glass cut me, to be sure, but that was
nothing to the hunger pain that goes on, on, never ceasing until there
is food, or one is dead.

"I saved a man's life once at a post called Stand-Off. The place came
by its name in the days of a mighty fight when my Man and his comrades
stood off the Mounted Police. These Men had been given as bad a name as
Coyotes even. My Man may have been bad, too; but how was I to know,
being only a Coyote? He was always throwing me bones and pieces of
bread, and whistling to me, and calling me Jack.

"Now this place Stand-Off was on the river flat, and one night in
spring-time I heard a great flood coming down the Belly River. It was a
still night, and the noise of the rushing water came to my ears for
miles, but the Men heard it not, for they were all in the Shacks. Fast
I galloped down over the flat near to the Shack where was this Man who
had often thrown me a bone. I whimpered, and whistled, and barked the
danger call, and howled the death-coming song, and finally my friend
came to the door and threw a stick of wood at me, and spoke fierce
oaths. Then he shut the door. I could hear the roaring getting louder
and louder, and knew that soon it would be too late for all the
Men-kind; not that I cared, except for this one. On one side of the
town was the swift-running Belly River, and beyond a high-cut bank; on
my side was the flat land that would soon be many feet deep with ice
and rushing water. So I howled louder than ever, and he came out and
strove to kill me with a Firestick, but I only ran a little piece into
the darkness, and howled again.

"Being a Man of much temper he chased me, and the noise brought out the
others, for they thought it was Indians. I sought to lead him over to
the side of the flat land which was next the sloping hill, knowing full
well that the new water would flow there first.

"All at once he ceased running behind me, and I, who was listening,
knew that he scarce breathed he was that still. Now, he will hear it,
I thought; and in an instant I heard him cry to the others: 'Boys, we
must pull out from this--there's a devil of a freshet coming.' That was
the way of the Men from Stand-Off; many strange words of a useless
need.

"I tell you, Comrades, it was soon an awful night; here and there the
Men ran trying to save something--their Horses and guns for most part,
even some of the evil firewater; and the strong swearings they used
sounded but just as the whimpering of Wolf Pups, the wind was that
fierce, carrying the dreadful roar of the Chinook flood.

"You who have heard Bagh and Hathi scolding at each other, with perhaps
Black Panther and Bald Eagle taking part, may know somewhat the like of
that night's noises.

"Seeing that my Man was coming riding swiftly on his Cayuse, I, too,
ran quickly for the upland; but, as I have said, just in the hollow
which was there, being the trail where once had run the river, the
flood was rushing even as I have seen it in the foot-hills--the flat
land was surrounded.

"As the Men galloped up they stopped, and spoke evil words at the
flood, rushing up and down looking for a ford. I also was afraid to
cross.

"Suddenly I thought me of a place I knew well lower down, wondrous like
a Beaver dam, though I think there had been no Beavers in the land
since Chief Mountain was a hole in the ground. I barked, to call my Man
friend, and ran toward this spot.

[Illustration: "I HEARD MY MAN SAY ... 'STRIKE ME DEAD IF HE
HASN'T ...'"]

"'There goes that locoed Coyote,' I heard him say; 'he's trailing for a
crossing; damned if I don't follow him. Come on, you fellows,' and
after me they galloped like madmen.

"Just below the place that was like a dam the water was not too bad,
for the ice had jammed up above, and it was spreading out all over the
flat. I plunged in, for, Comrades, it was a time of great hurry.
Swimming a river is not of my liking--none of my kind like it--but this
seemed an evil night altogether, with no choice but to reach the
uplands.

"'Sure thing! the Coyote's dead to rights on this outfit,' I heard my
Man say; and wallow, wallow, in the bronchos came, splashing and
snorting. And so we crossed just as the ice broke in the jam, and swept
down like the swift rolling of many stones. I heard my Man say as they
all got down from the horses to empty the water out of their long
boots, 'If I ever clap peeps on to that Coyo again, I'll shove grub
pile into him till he busts. Strike me dead if he hasn't saved the
whole outfit of us.'

"Anyway I knew there would be much feeding and no harm if I kept close
to these evil Men-kind, for they were great givers.

"I sought to save the one man, and if there be any credit it comes to
me because of that; the others followed him, and even they said _he_
had saved them."

"I think it is a true tale," declared Mooswa, "for I once had a
happening in saving the life of a Boy who had been good to me."

"What happened to the Men's place, Dog-Wolf?" queried Sa'-zada.

"In the morning there was nothing--nothing but great pieces of ice all
over the flat. Then the Men trailed for a place called Slideout, where
were more evil men of the firewater way of life, and I followed,
arranging it so that my Man saw me, and that day when he killed an
Antelope, he left a sweet piece of the eating for me; and I might have
lived all my life close to their camp in great fatness, but for the
evil chance that drew the Men-kind close to a place called MacLeod. And
it was there, being pursued by ferocious yellow-haired Dogs, I hid in a
Hen-house and was caught. At first they were for killing me, but there
happened a Man-Pup of that house who cried for me as his Doggie, and
later came one of the Men-kind, gave blankets in exchange for me, and I
was sent here to the place where is Sa'-zada."

"He is either a great liar, or not so bad as is written in The Book,"
commented Sher Abi, the Crocodile; "but in my land where was his
Brother, the Jackal, I never heard good of his kind."

"I am sure it is a true tale," declared Sa'-zada; "Coyote could not
have made it up."




Fourth Night

The Story of Raj Bagh, the King Tiger

[Illustration]

[Illustration]




FOURTH NIGHT

THE STORY OF RAJ BAGH, THE KING TIGER


While the Keeper Sa'-zada was still loitering over his tea, there came
to his ears an imperious roaring call "Wah-h-h! Wah-h-h! Wah-houh!"

"This is the Tiger's night, indeed," he muttered to himself. "Old Raj
Bagh is eager to tell us the tale of his life." Then he hurried down to
their cages and corrals saying, "Come, comrades; the King of the Jungle
calls us."

"We shall have strong tales of blood-letting to-night," muttered Magh
the Orang-Outang.

"King of the Jungle, indeed!" sneered Hathi, the Elephant. "When I was
Lord of the jungle I knew no king--that is, amongst the animals."

"Now," began Sa'-zada, opening The Book, when the Jungle Dwellers had
all gathered in front of Bagh, the killer's cage; "now we shall know
all about Huzoor Stripes. And mind you, Hathi, and all the rest, there
must be no anger, for Bagh's way of life has not been of his own
making; for with his kind it is their nature to kill that which they
eat."

"I was born in Chittagong," began Bagh, "and well I remember the little
_Nullah_ in which my Mother kept me, a big tea garden spread over three
hills just near our hiding place, and there was always much good
eating.

"For months after I was born my Mother made me hide in the _Nullah_.
That was always in the evening. And as for hiding, how anyone can get
along without stripes in his coat I can't understand. Let me hide in a
grass field where the sun throws sharp shadows up and down across
everything and I'll give my ration of meat for the week to anyone who
can see me three lengths of my tail away."

"Where was your Mother all this time?" queried Magh, tauntingly.

"To be sure," answered Bagh, "she would be away for hours making the
kill, and when she came back would lick my face, and teach me the sweet
smell of new meat and hot blood. Then the next evening, just as it was
getting dark, she would take me with her to the kill, which was usually
a Cow, and which she had very cunningly hidden in elephant grass, or a
bamboo clump, or some little _Nullah_. There would be still half of it
left. I grew big and strong, and longed to make a kill on my own
account.

"But that year a terrible thing happened to the Buffaloes and Cows upon
which we depended for food. They were all down in the Flat Lands,
which is close by the sea, and one day when the jungle was much torn by
strong, fierce winds, a great water came over the land, and ate up all
the Cattle, and many of the Men-kind. Then, indeed, we fairly starved,
for the few that were left were kept close to the bamboo houses of the
villagers. Night after night, even in the day-time, my Mother and I
sought for the chances of a kill, for I had grown big at that time, and
she took me with her. We were really starving; perhaps a small Chital
(deer), or a Dog, or something came our way once in a while, but the
pain in my stomach was so great that I moaned, and moaned, and I
believe it was because of me that my Mother became a Man-killer."

"Horrible!" exclaimed Mooswa. "Became a killer of the Men-kind?
Dreadful!"

"I, too, have killed Men," asserted Raj Bagh; "and why is it so evil,
my big-nosed eater-of-grass? Your food is the leaves of the jungle, and
you have it with you always. When you are hungry you walk, walk, and
soon you come to where there is much food, and you eat, and with you
that is all right--there is no evil in it. As Sa'-zada has said, it is
our way of life to kill our eating. When there is no Chital we kill
Sambhur; when there are no Deer we kill Pigs, or even Buffalo; when
there is nothing but Man, and we are changed from our usual way of kill
by great hunger, we slay Man. With all Dwellers of the Jungle, there
is fear of the Men-kind, that is all, nothing but fear; and when once
that is broken we kill the Men-kind even as any other Jungle Dweller."

"Little Brother," began Sa'-zada, "it is spoken amongst my Kind, that a
Man-killer is always an old, broken-toothed Tiger, full-manged, and of
evil ways; and that once having tasted human flesh he becomes a killer
of nothing else."

"Ha-hauk!" laughed Bagh, "those be silly Jungle tales. Am I
broken-toothed, or full of a mange, or is Raj Bagh? All a lie, Little
Master, all a lie. It is but a chance of the Jungle that makes a
Man-killer, even as I will tell, and the taste of the flesh is not more
than the taste of meat.

"Yes," he continued, "I was with my Mother that day, the first day of
the Man-kill, and in my stomach was a great pain like the biting of Red
Ants. It was near the coming of night, and we crept down into the tea
garden where there were many of the coolie kind working amongst the
bushes. I think my Mother was looking for a stray dog, or perhaps a
small Bullock; but the coolies seeing us cried aloud in their fright,
'Bagh hai!' and ran. I think it was this that made my Mother charge
suddenly amongst them, for if they had stood and looked at us I'm sure
we should have turned and gone away; but in the charge a Man fell.
Baghni seized him by the neck, threw him on her back, and we both
galloped into the jungle. After that, whenever we were hungry we went
back to the tea garden in just the same way.

"But one day a coolie saw us first and ran to his master's bungalow
crying with much fear. Neither of us thought anything of that, for it
was as they had done before; so we went on down in the little _Nullah_
between the hills, looking sharply for others of the Black Workers.
Suddenly I heard a noise as of something approaching.

"'Keep still, O Baghela,' said Baghni, 'here cometh one of the
Men-kind, and I will make a kill.'

"As we waited, presently there was no sound. 'The kill has gone away,'
I whispered to Baghni, but she struck me hard with her tail, almost
knocking some of my teeth out; that was to keep still. There was not
even any scent of the Men-kind in the wind now; most surely he had gone
away, I thought. What a silly old Baghni my Mother must be.

"I heard a soft whistle behind me, 'Sp-e-e-t!' just like that, much as
you've heard Hawk in his cage call. When I looked around there was one
of the White-face, even the Sahib of the tea garden. I knew him, for I
had seen him once before. In his hand he held what I have since learned
was a thunder-stick. I looked in his eyes for perhaps three lashes of
my tail, but I could see there nothing of the Man-fear Hathi has told
us of. Such eyes I have never seen in any animal's head; not yellow
like those of my kind, nor red and black like Hathi's, nor even dull
brown like Korite the killer's; just of a quiet color like a tiny bit
of the sky coming between the leaves of the forest.

"What was he waiting for, I thought. Baghni had not heard him, for she
did not turn her head. Then he made the call like Hawk's again, and
Baghni turned her head even as I had, and looked full at him, but he
did not run away.

"Now feeling something lifted from me, because his eyes were on Baghni,
I think, I looked again sideways from the corner of my eye. Baghni had
set her ears tight back, and drawn her lip up in a cross snarl, so that
her teeth, almost the length of Boar's tusks, said as plain as could
be, 'Now I will crush your back.' But still in his eyes that were like
bits of sky was not the Man-fear; if I had seen it there most surely I
had charged straight at his throat, for I was angry, and still, I
think, filled with much fear.

"Then Baghni turned around, crouched with her head low, looking
straight at him. As she did so, the Sahib raised his thunder-stick,
there was an awful noise from it, I heard Baghni scream 'Gur-houk!' and
she had charged. I, too, followed her, thinking she had got this Man
who was our kill; but just beyond in the _Nullah_, even the length of
Bainsa's corral from here, I saw her on her side tearing up the tea
bushes with her great paws. I stopped for the length of two breaths,
but I could see that there was something very wrong--she was going to
sleep. Then the greatest fear that I have ever known came over me, and
I galloped fast into the jungle to where was my hiding-place."

[Illustration: "BUT I COULD SEE THAT THERE WAS SOMETHING VERY
WRONG ..."]

"They had killed your Mother, had they, Bagh?" asked Mooswa.

"I think so, for I never saw her again. I was afraid to go back where
the men labored, and, as I had said, there were no Bullocks, and I
nearly starved to death."

"But how did they catch you?" queried Magh.

"It was all because of my hunger. When I was not stronger than a jungle
Bakri (sheep), not having eaten for days and days, I heard one night a
Pariah Dog howling in the jungle. It took me hours to know that there
was no danger near this crying one of the Dog-kind. I went round and
round in circles that I had made smaller each time, and drew the wind
from all sides into my nose to see if there was the Man scent. There
was nothing but the Pariah, and by some means he had got into a hole.
Of course, afterwards I knew it was the evil work of this Sahib who had
killed Baghni. Such a hole the Pariah was in, it was as long as these
two cages, and though wide at the bottom, it was small at the top, even
like the cover of Magh's house yonder. I crawled in and caught the Dog
in my strong jaws. Sweet flesh! how he howled when he knew I was
coming.

"Then with a crash something fell behind me, and closed the hole so I
could not get out, and at once I heard them shouting."

"Where had they come from so soon?" queried Magh.

"They were up in the jungle trees," answered Bagh.

"I think it is a fine lie," grunted Boar. "Do you mean to say, Bagh,
that you could not see them in the trees?"

"You have little knowledge of my kind, Piggy. Know you not that when
going through the jungle we never look up?"

"I do," interrupted Raj Bagh, "but I learned the trick. Brother Bagh is
right, though; I suppose it comes from always looking for our kill on
the ground, and I have heard that this is why the Hunters so often kill
us from _Machans_ (shooting rest in a tree). We never see them until we
are struck."

"The Men were all about the hole," continued Bagh, "and it was he of
the white face that cried, 'Don't kill him, don't stick him with the
spears! He is only a Baghela, and we will take him alive for Sa'-zada.'

"They dug little holes from the top, and bound me with strong ropes; it
was so narrow I couldn't turn round, you see. Then I was sent here to
Sa'-zada. Though he is good to me, still I wish I was back in my old
jungle."

"Ah-h-houk! Great Brothers," roared Raj Bagh. "My mate has told you of
Chittagong and his tea gardens, but the middle jungles in India is the
place for a Tiger to rule; and for years I was Lord of the Sumna
Forests, and the terror of the Gonds, the little black-faced Men who
are wondrous Shikaris. Close grass. Waw-hough! but it was beautiful
there. The many red faces of the chewal tree smiled at me, and the
purple ears of the sal tree listened to my roar till its great branches
trembled in fear. Close hid in the Khagar grass I would lie and sleep
all through the long hot day, and the little Gonds, even the big,
white-faced Men, might pass the length of this cage from me, and not
know that I was there. But I would know. Talking, talking always they
would go, and if they were up wind, my nose would find them many jumps
away.

"I was born there, and Baghni, my Mother, and Sher Bagh, my Sire,
taught me all that a Tiger should know of the ways of the Men-kind. But
in the end both of them came to their death through the evil ways of
these seekers for our lives. Wah, wah, wah-hough! I am a Man-killer.
And why not?"

"You should be ashamed to say so," cried Magh, petulantly, "and before
Sa'-zada, too."

"Wah! I was a Man-killer," repeated Raj Bagh, "a killer of many Men,
but it was not my fault. When I was a cub my Sire was Lord of the Sumna
Jungles; and close to our lair was a _jhil_ to which all animals of
those parts came to drink when they were hot, and the hills blazed red
with the evil fire of the little Gonds. Chetal, and Nilgai, and
Sambhur, and the Ribbed-Faced Deer that coughed like a Wild Dog; even
Chinkara, the little Gazelle that is but a mouthful for one of my
needs--all came there when the forest grew dark; and always when we
were hungry, which was often, more came than went away. It was ever the
same with Sher Bagh, who was my Sire, and Baghni, always the same way
in a kill with them. In those days I watched it often, for I, being a
Bagheela, took no part except in the eating. Chita walks not softer in
his cage than Sher Bagh would step through the jungle when he was
stalking a kill; and then at the end with a rush it was all over.

"But one year it became so hot--why, the rocks burned our pads as we
walked; so hot that our _jhil_ dried up, and none of the Jungle
Dwellers came to drink. It was hot, so hot, and never a drop of the
sweet water falling. The fire crept down from the hills and ate up the
small part of the jungle and the grass, and I think the Jungle Dwellers
went to other parts. At any rate, as Brother Bagh has said, we were
sore distressed for a kill. Of course, we could go and drink where the
other Dwellers dared not, close to the villages of the little Gonds. I
remember, being but a Baghela and having little wisdom, saying to
Baghni, 'Why do we not kill Goru (cattle) and Bainsa, who are here in
the hands of the Men-kind?' But Sher Bagh, who had lived into much
wisdom, growled, and striking me hard with his paw, said, 'Little one,
that way comes the full hate of the Men-kind, and we who fear not the
Dwellers in the Jungle, fear Man.'

"But still we became more hungry, and Baghni, whose milk was my only
food, grew unwise and said, 'Let us kill the Goru.' But Sher Bagh
growled at her, and said again, 'That way comes the hate of the
Men-kind. Now when these little men who are Gonds pass near to me in
the jungle, they salaam and say, "Peace be with you, Sher Bagh, Huzoor
Bagh"; and they go in peace, and the fear that is on me when I look in
their eyes passes away.'

"For many nights after that we wandered far through the jungle, I with
Baghni, and Sher Bagh by himself in another part. And in the days that
were so hot, as I slept, great times of blood drinking and sweet
meat-eating came to my mind--but when I woke there was nothing--nothing
but hunger pains in my stomach. It was also this way with Baghni and
Sher Bagh. Many times Baghni said, 'Let us kill the Goru, for of what
use is the good will of the Men-kind if we die?'

"At last Sher Bagh also became unwise, and said, 'We will kill the
Goru, for Baghela and you, Baghni, are starving. When the Goru feed in
a herd to-morrow, even in the time of light--which, of course, was the
day--together we will creep close in the much-thorned korinda, and
kill a Cow; for if we kill one in a herd there will be less trouble,
and perhaps it will not be missed of the Men-kind.' Wah! I shall never
forget the sweet eating of that Goru. And the drink of blood!
Che-hough! it was as though I had been athirst since my birth.

"Sher Bagh dragged the Goru to a jungle of Kakra trees, and we ate it
all. But the next day the Horned Ones did not feed in that place, and
as we were walking in the close of the daytime Sher Bagh heard the
thin-voiced cry of a Gond cart coming over the road; it was like the
song of the Koel bird; it was made by the wheels, I think. 'There will
be Goru to the cart,' said Sher Bagh. 'Yes, two of them,' answered
Baghni, 'but also one of the Men-kind, a little Gond.' 'Even now I am
hungry,' declared Sher Bagh; 'when I roar in front of the Goru the
little Gond will pass quickly into a sal tree, and then we can eat of
his Bullocks.'

"It was as my Sire had said, and we made a kill, and carried them far
from the roadside, and had the sweetest eating for two nights. All our
strength was coming back to us, and Baghni, purring softly, for she was
pleased, said to her Lord, 'Did I not say "drink the blood of the
Goru," when we were starving, and are they not easy of kill?' But Sher
Bagh, looking up in the trees, for it was as we came to the kill for
our second night's eating, answered, 'We must be careful, for upon us
will surely fall the full hate of these little Gonds; and they claim a
kill for a kill, blood for blood; it is their manner of life when they
deal with others of the Men-kind.'

"I knew that fear of the little Gonds had come strong upon my Sire when
he looked up to the sal trees, for, as I have said, it is not of our
habit to look up; we fear nothing of the jungle that hides in trees.
The Peacocks, and Monkeys, and Crows, even Panther--what are they?
Nothing to claim the time of my kind. Said Sher Bagh to Baghni, 'The
Goru that go in carts are easy for the kill.' 'And there are always two
of them,' answered she.

"This new manner of life by practice became easy to us; we would hide
in the khagar grass or the jowri, which is a nut grass of the Men,
beside the road at the day's end, and always we would know of the
cart's coming by its voice, that was like Koel bird's, or the miaou of
a Peacock. We made many a kill of this kind. And it was this way that I
became first of all a Man-killer, even my first kill was of the
Men-kind, just an evil chance. It was Baghni who said to Sher Bagh,
'Baghela must know the method of a kill. We have now not much hunger,
so let him make the next kill of the Goru, and if he misses, it will
not matter, for we are well fed.'

"I shall never forget that night as I crouched by the road beside
Baghni, waiting for the little Gond with his Goru. I was trembling like
the tall grass shivers at the top when one passes through it. 'Keep
still,' whispered Baghni; 'a little noise makes a hard kill, and much
noise is no kill at all.' If it had been a Sambhur or a Nilgai we
should have had no supper, for the grass whispered under me as I shook
it with my trembling. Then down the road in the early dark came the
cart with its snarling voice. Just as the Goru were opposite, Baghni
struck me with her tail and cried, 'Ah-h-houk!' which means to charge.
As I sprang, being but a Baghela, and my first kill, I was slow, and
the Goru jumped, causing me to miss sadly. But I landed full on the
cart, and by an evil chance the little Gond was under my paws. Mind,
Comrades, with me it was but a kill, and I could not see his eyes, and
without intent on my part his shoulder was in my jaws, and in less time
than I can tell it I had him in the jungle. It was my first kill, and I
was wild--but I don't want to talk about it. I wish he had beaten me
off, even struck me with the thunder-stick, for, after all, what was
the kill? not bigger than a Chetal, and it brought the full hate of the
Men-kind to us, and Sher Bagh and Baghni were slain."

"By the little Gonds?" asked Hathi.

"The Gonds and the Sahibs," answered Tiger. "Even your people, Hathi,
took part in the kill of my Sire and Baghni. But it was our old enemy,
hunger, that caused it all. For three nights we waited by the roadside
and no carts passed. It is true one passed; a lodhi cartman, with the
wisdom of Cobra, put Pig's fat on the wheels of his cart, and there
was no noise until he was right upon us, even had passed, for the stalk
had not properly started, you see. 'Never mind,' said Baghni, 'the
little Men of a slow wit, the Gonds, will come this way with their
Goru, many of them'; but they didn't. And save for two old Langurs
(monkeys) that cursed from a pipal tree as we went back to our
_Nullah_, we saw no Dweller of the Jungle, nor of the fields. 'The hate
of the little Gonds is coming to us,' growled Bagh. 'And I am so
hungry,' moaned Baghni. 'Baghela should not have killed any of the
Men-kind,' declared my Sire.

"The Men go to their rest at night, even the little Gonds, knowing that
the Jungle Dwellers will not come in great numbers to the fields
because of our guard. And it was but an evil chance, too, that I made a
kill of the Gond. But when we were most hungered, after many days, one
night, not far from our _Nullah_, was a Bullock tied to a tree.
'Waw-houk!' exclaimed Baghni, calling her Lord to the find;
'Che-waugh!' said she, 'here is a Bail of the Men-kind; make the kill.'

"'It is of their hate,' growled Sher Bagh, 'the Bullocks do not come of
their own way here to the jungle--we must be careful.'

"Half the night was gone before we had stalked all sides of the Goru,
but there was nothing--not even up in the sal leaves. That was what
Baghni said, for with her sharp eyes she saw Hookus (big green
pigeon), resting on a branch, which meant that there was nothing to
frighten him. When Sher Bagh had made the kill, he dragged it far away
from our _Nullah_. That was most wise, Comrades; it was so that the
Men-kind should not find our home.

"When our hunger was gone Baghni said, 'We will eat again when the
sun's light passes once more.' 'No,' growled my Sire, 'we will not come
back to the kill, for the hate of the little Gonds will be here when
they see that we have eaten of the Goru.'

"That was wise also. To make sure, and to teach me, a Baghela, Sher
Bagh took us down wind from the drag next night, and the scent of the
Men-kind came strong in our faces. 'Our enemies are there,' declared
Bagh.

"Being a Baghela I thought this fine play, and by the cunning of my
Sire we killed what we found tied in the Jungle, but never went back to
the drag. Even once in the dark, as we hunted, hearing the grunt of a
Goru, and going up wind to it, Sher Bagh knew that the Hunters were
waiting in the sal and pipal trees over the bait, so we went back to
the _Nullah_ and rested on lean stomachs."

"Your Sire was too clever for them," commented Magh, as Tiger ceased
speaking for an instant.

"Perhaps it was clever," answered Raj Bagh. "But in two days more
something came to us that no Jungle Dweller can withstand: a full beat
of the Jungles.

"Being but a Baghela," sighed Raj Bagh, "I did not know what it was
when the beat commenced; I thought that the forest winds were in an
evil temper, but Sher Bagh cried to Baghni, 'Quick! we must go far, for
now comes the hate of the white-faced kind, for the beat is their way
of a kill.' We lay quiet in our _Nullah_, thinking they might pass.
'Tap, tap, tap!' I heard on one side, much like the klonk, klonk! of
Mis-gar (coppersmith bird). 'What is that?' I asked my Sire.

"'The sal trees cry because they are stricken by the Beaters,' he
answered. 'Tum, tum, tum-m!' I heard from the other side of the
_Nullah_. 'Is it the belling of a Nilgai?' I asked. 'The little Gonds
who are of this beat call with their drums,' answered Sher Bagh. 'All
the jungle is falling,' I cried. 'It is the coming of Hathi,' answered
my Sire, 'for it is a beat of many Hathi. Come, Baghela, come, Baghni,'
he called, and we stole like frightened Chinkara through the sal and
pipal jungle.

"'To the Baghni-wali nulla!' (tigress valley) cried Sher Bagh to us as
we followed. But as we sought to enter this place of many caves a
Beater smote at us with the thunder-stick from a tree, but that was
only to frighten us away, for Bagh whispered, 'The Beaters are not to
make the kill.'

"'Here will be little spoor for them to follow,' growled Sher Bagh as
we ran. Soon we thought we had lost those who sought our lives. As we
rested for a little while in some thick, wild plum bushes they came all
about us. There were many Hathi, and on three of the Hathi were little
caves----"

"Haudas," corrected Elephant. "That is the way the Men-kind ride on my
back when we are in the beat."

"And the Men had thunder-sticks with which they smote Sher Bagh and
Baghni. 'Waw, waw-houk!' roared my Sire when he was
struck--'Che-waugh!' he cried to me, 'flee, Baghela, while I charge.'
With a rush he sprang on a big Hathi's nose, and I think he got even to
the hauda, for the Hathi turned and ran, screaming with pain; and I,
seeing this, broke from my cover and charged back through the Beaters
who were on foot. Just in my path I saw one of the Beaters striking two
sticks together. Being cross because of my hot pads, and what they had
done to Sher Bagh, I seized this one, and took him with me.

"After that, I lived alone, and because the Jungle Dwellers had fled
from those parts, and because of the wrong we had from these Gonds, I
became a Man-killer, eating that which was put in my reach."

"How did they catch you?" questioned Wolf.

[Illustration: "MY SIRE ... SPRANG ON A BIG HATHI'S NOSE."]

"Because I sought to change my way of life," answered Bagh, "and
leaving the Man-kill I made to satisfy my hunger with a Goat. I heard
the Goat cry at night-time," continued Bagh, "and after a careful
stalk, finding nothing of the presence of Man, I sprang on Bakri the
Goat----"

"And the Goat captured you," cried Magh, gleefully.

"Together we fell into a deep hole that had been dug by the evil little
Gonds. Though I ate the Bakri I could not get out again, and in the
morning the Men were all about me, both white and black. How the little
Men reviled me! But it seemed the Sahibs wanted to take me alive, so
they dug another hole close to the one in which I was, put a big wooden
cage with a door to it down, and then with long spears broke through
the walls between the cage and the hole I was in. Of course, I was glad
enough to go any place; besides, they threw down on me their dreadful
fire. I sprang in the cage and the door dropped behind me. Then many of
the Men-kind pulled the cage out with ropes, and I was sent here to
Sa'-zada."




Fifth Night

The Story of the Tribe of King Cobra

[Illustration]

[Illustration]




FIFTH NIGHT

THE STORY OF THE TRIBE OF KING COBRA


It was the fifth night of the Sa'-zada tales. As usual, Hathi, Grey
Wolf, and all the other animals, jostling each other merrily like a lot
of schoolboys, had gathered in front of Tiger's cage.

Said the Keeper: "Comrades, you must all be very careful, for this is
Snake's night."

"Oo-o-oh!" whimpered Jackal, "is Nag the Cobra to come here among us?"

Even Hathi trembled, and blowing softly through his trumpet, said: "Oh,
Sa'-zada, I who am a Lord of the Jungle, fearing not any Dweller
therein, feel great pains this evening. I am sure that hay is musty and
has disagreed with me. If you do not mind, Little Brother, I will go
back to my stall and lie down."

"Will Deboia the Climber come also, Little Master?" asked Magh. "If so,
I think my Terrier Pup is feeling unwell; I will take him to my cage
and wrap him in his blanket. I hate snake stories, anyway."

"Hiz-z-z!" laughed Python, who was already there. "Lords of the Jungle
indeed! When I strike or throw a loop, or go swift as the wind through
the Jungle--Thches-s-s! but I am no boaster. See our friends. When the
smallest of my kind are to be here each one makes his excuses."

"Never fear, Comrades," Sa'-zada assured the frightened animals, "Nag
the Cobra, and Karait, and all the others will behave themselves if
they are left alone. Only don't move about, that's all. The first law
when Snakes are about is--keep still."

"Yes, we like quietness," assented Python. "Once there was a fussy old
Buffalo Bull who used to come to my pool and stir up the mud until it
was scarce fit to live in. In the end I threw a loop around his neck,
and he became one of the quietest Bulls you ever saw in your life."

"Now, Comrades," said Sa'-zada, as he returned accompanied by the
Dwellers of the Snake House, "Hamadryad, the King Cobra, has promised
us a story."

"Look at my length," cried Hamadryad, drawing his yellow and black
mottled body through many intricate knots like a skein of colored silk;
"think you I was born this way just as I am? At first--that was up in
the Yoma Hills in Burma--I was not much larger than a good-sized hair
from Tiger's mustache, and since then it has been nothing but
adventure. Even my Mother, where she had us hid in a pile of rocks
covered with ferns, had to fight for our lives."

"Phuff!" retorted Boar, disdainfully, "many a nest of Cobra eggs have I
rid the world of."

"Not of my kind, I'll warrant," snorted Python, blowing his foul breath
like a small sirocco almost in Pig's face. "Of Nag, or Hamadryad's
family, perhaps, yes, for, know you, Comrades, what Nagina does with
her eggs? Lays them in the sun to hatch _apsi_ (of themselves). But my
Mother--ah, you should have seen her, Comrades; all the eggs gathered
in a heap, and her great, beautiful body--much like my own in
color--wound tenderly about them until the young came forth. Perhaps a
matter of two moons and never a bite for her to eat all the time.
That's what I call being a genuine Mother."

"Very wise, indeed, and thoughtful," cried the Salt Water Snake. "My
Mother--well I remember it--carried her eggs about in her body till
they were hatched, which seems to me quite as good a plan. Also, nobody
molests us--if they do, they die quickly. We all can kill quite as
readily as Nag the Cobra, though there is less talk about us."

"Even so," assented Hamadryad, "the proof of the matter is in being
here; and, as I was going to say, it is this way with my people; in the
hot weather when there is no rain we burrow in the ground for months at
a stretch. And then the rains come on and we are driven out of our
holes by the water, and live abroad in the Jungles for a time. It was
at this season of the year I speak of; I had just come up out of my
burrow and was wondrous hungry, I can tell you; and, traveling, I came
across the trail of a Karait. I followed Karait's trail, and found him
in a hole under a bungalow of the Men-kind. It was dry under the
bungalow, so I rested after my meal in the hole that had been Karait's.
It was a good place, so I lived there. Every day a young of the
Men-kind----"

"I know," interrupted Mooswa; "a Boy, eh?"

"Perhaps; but the old ones called him 'Baba.' And Baba used to come
every day under the bungalow to play. He threw little sticks and stones
at me; but nothing to hurt, mind you, for he was small. The things he
threw wouldn't have injured a Fly-Lizard as he crawled on the bungalow
posts. He laughed when he saw me, and called, as he clapped his little
hands, and I wouldn't have hurt him--why should I? I don't eat Babas.

"When I heard the heavy feet of the Men I always slipped in the hole;
but, one day, by an evil chance I was to one side looking for food, and
Baba was following, when his Mother saw me. Such a row there was, the
Men running, and Baba's Mother calling, and only the little one with no
fear. Surely it was the fear of which Chita and Hathi have spoken which
came over the Men-kind.

[Illustration: "AND BABA USED TO COME EVERY DAY UNDER THE BUNGALOW TO
PLAY...."]

"There was one of a great size, like Bear Muskwa, with a stomach such
as Magh's. He was a native baboo. He had a black face, and his voice
was like the trumpet of Hathi; but when I went straight his way, and
rose up to strike, his fat legs made great haste to carry him far away.
Then I glided in the hole."

"Ghur-ah! it seems a strange tale," snarled Wolf; "even I would not
dare, being alone, to chase one of the Men-kind."

"It may be true," declared Sa'-zada, "for it is written in the Book
that Hamadryad is the only Snake that will really chase a man, and show
fight."

"I could hear the Men-kind talking and tramping about," continued King
Cobra, "and meant to lie still till night, and then go away, for I
usually traveled in the dark, you know. But presently there was a soft
whistling music calling me to come out; and also at times a pleading
voice, though of the Men-kind, I knew that, 'Ho, Bhai (brother), ho,
Raj Naga (King Cobra)! come here, quick, Little Brother.' Then the soft
whistle called me, sometimes loud, and sometimes low, and even the
noise was twisting and swinging in the air just as I might myself.

"Hiz-z-z-za! but I commenced to tremble; and I was full of fear, and I
was full of love for the soft sounds, and with my eyes I wished to see
it. So I came out of the hole, and there was a Black Man making the
soft call from a hollow stick."

"A Snake Charmer with his pipes," exclaimed Sa'-zada.

"I raised up in anger, thinking that he, too, would soon run away; but
he pointed with his hand, now this way, from side to side, even as the
sweet sound from the hollow stick seemed to twist and curl in the air;
and following his hand with my eyes, I commenced to swing as the hand
swung.

"'Ho, Little Brother!' he called, 'come here.'

"It was to a basket at his side; for, though I meant not to do it, I
glided into it."

"That was the manner of your taking?" asked Chita.

"Better than having one's toes squeezed in an iron trap," declared
Jackal.

"Or being beaten by chains," murmured Hathi.

"Yes, the taking was simple enough; but if Baba had not cried, the Men
would have killed me, I think."

"And that was how you came to Lower Burma?" asked Sa'-zada.

"Yes," answered Hamadryad, "this man who made music with the hollow
stick took me with him, and at every place where there were any of his
fellows he brought me forth from the basket, and made me dance to his
music. That was what he called it--dance."

"Why didn't you bite him?" queried Rattler, making his tail rattles
sing in anger.

"He pulled out my fangs," declared Hamadryad.

"He-he," sneered Magh; "now surely it is a great lie, this wondrous
tale of Cobra's, for in his mouth are the very fangs he says the
black-faced player of music pulled."

"Most wise Ape," said Hamadryad, ironically, "what your big head, like
unto a Jack fruit, does not understand, is a lie, forsooth. Even though
my teeth were pulled three times, they would grow again; but you do not
know that--therefore it is a lie. Even now, behind these that you see,
and perhaps yet may feel if you keep on, are others waiting the time
when these may be broken. Was it not Hathi said some wise animal
arranged all these things for us?"

"Sa'-zada says it is God," interrupted Hathi.

"This man made me fight with a Mongoos, that those of his kind might
laugh."

"What is a Mongoos?" queried Magh.

"Our natural enemy," answered King Cobra, "just as Fleas and other
Vermin are yours. But I killed the squeaky little beast with one drive
of my head--broke his back. At Ramree a Sahib bought me from the black
man."

"That was the Sahib who sent you here, I fancy," suggested Sa'-zada.

"Perhaps. At any rate he seemed fond of Snakes of my kind, for he put
me in a box wherein was one of my family. But he should have known more
about our manner of life, for he nearly starved us through ignorance of
our taste. He puts Rats and Frogs, and Birds and such Vermin as that
in, with never so much as a Green-Tree-Snake. The yellow-faced Burmans
used to come in front of our cage and touch us up with sticks until my
nose was skinned with striking at them and hitting the bars.

"Our getting something to eat was a pure accident. One night this Sahib
stepped on a Snake--a young Rock Snake, which had curled up in the path
for the warmth of the hot earth. 'Oh, ho!' said the Sahib, bringing
this new Snake to our cage, 'you are looking for trouble, little _Samp_
(snake). Let us see how you get on in there,' and he threw him in our
box, expecting to see a fight."

"And did he?" queried Magh.

"Hiz-z-z-za! I should say so. My mate and I fought half an hour before
we settled who was to eat the visitor."

"You two Comrades fought over it?" asked Mooswa.

"Yes; that is our way. Two Snakes cannot eat one--how else should we
settle the question? we were both hungry. Why, one day my mate flew at
me, and I could see in his eye that he meant eating me, and in
self-defence I was forced to put him out of the way of mischief, but
the Sahib pulled us apart.

"But if I hated the Yellow Men who came to my cage, I liked the
Mem-Sahib (white lady). I think it was her voice. Hiz-z, hiz-z, hiz-z!
It was as soft as the song the man had brought forth from the hollow
stick. Sometimes I would hear her voice-song near my box, and it would
put me to sleep; only, of course, I had to keep one eye open lest my
mate would try to eat me----"

"I had no idea Snakes were so fond of each other," said Magh,
maliciously.

"Yes; I think I should have eaten _him_ to have saved that worry. But I
must tell you about the Mem-Sahib and the Cook. He was small and so
black--a perfect little Pig. One day when the Sahib was away, the Cook
became possessed of strange devils."

"Became drunken on his Master's liquor, I suppose," remarked Sa'-zada.

"Perhaps, for he came and took me out of the box, wound me around his
shoulders and waist, and went with a clamor of evil sounds, in to my
Mem-Sahib."

"Just like a Man," sneered Pardus.

"Even I was ashamed," continued Hamadryad. "My Mem-Sahib cried out with
fear, and her eyes were dreadful to look into.

"I glided twice about the Man-devil's neck, and drew each coil tight
and tight and tighter, and swung my head forward until I looked into
his eyes, and I nodded twice thus," and the King Cobra swayed his
vicious black head back and forth with the full suggestiveness of a
death thrust, until each one of the animals shivered with fear.

"I think he died of the Man-fear Hathi has spoken of, for I did not
strike him--it may be that the coils about his throat were over-tight.
But I glided back to my box, and I think the Mem-Sahib knew that I did
not wish to even make her afraid."

"Most interesting," declared Sa'-zada. "Is that all, Cobra?"

"Yes; I'm tired. Let Python talk."

The huge Snake uncoiled three yards of his length, slipped it forward
as easily, as noiselessly as one blows smoke, shoved his big flat head
up over the Keeper's knee, ran his tongue out four times to moisten his
lips, and said: "I am also from the East, and I do not like this land.
Here my strength is nothing, for I can't eat. A Chicken twice a
month--what is that to one of my size? Sa'-zada will eat as much in a
day; and yet in my full strength I could crush five such as our Little
Brother. Many loops! in my own Jungle I could wind myself about a
Buffalo and pull his ribs together until his whole body was like loose
earth. I have done it. Sa'-zada knows that for months and months after
I came I ate nothing, and in the end they took me out on the floor
there, six of them, and shoved food down my throat with a stick.

"Once I had run down a Barking Deer, and swallowed him, and was having
a little sleep, when I wandered into the most frightful sort of
nightmare. It came to me in my sleep that Bagh had charged me of a
sudden, and gripped my throat in his strong jaws. I opened my eyes in
fright, and, sure enough, I was being choked with a rope in the hands
of the Men-kind. Each end of it was fastened to a long bamboo, and the
Men were on either side of me. I made the leaves and dry wood in that
part of the Jungle whirl for a little, but it was no use--I couldn't
get away. Also a man of the White-kind was sitting on a laid tree, and
in his hands was a loud-voiced gun. But I nearly paid him out for some
of the insult. They dragged me on to the road, and I lay there quiet
and simple-looking. He thought I was asleep, I suppose. At any rate he
came up and touched me on the nose with his toe.

"I struck; but, though I knew it not, the rope was tight held by one of
the Yellow-kind who stood behind me, and I but got a full choking;
though, as I have said, the other, he of the White Face, was stricken
with fear.

"They put me in a box, but though I have no appetite here, I could eat
there, and they gave me so many chickens that I shed my beautiful skin
almost monthly. I nearly died from the over-diet, not being used to
such plenty."

"Tell us of your food-winning in the Jungle," craved Sa'-zada.

"Though I go wondrous swift," began Python, "yet if any of the
Deer-kind passed me on foot I could not catch them. Because of this I
was forced to take great thought to outwit them. You, Gidar, and you,
Hathi, know of the elephant creeper that is in all those Jungles, how
it runs from tree to tree for many a mile--so strong that it sometimes
pulls down the biggest wood-grower. Well, having knowledge of a Deer's
path, I would stretch my body across it much after that fashion, and
the silly creatures with their ribbed faces, always coughing a hoarse
bark, and always possessed of a stupid fear, would walk right into my
folds, thinking me a part of the creeper. Once, even, as I think of it,
a hunter--of the White-kind he was--ate his food sitting on a coil of
my body as I lay twisted about a tree. To tell you the truth, I was
asleep, having fed well, and only woke up because of his sticking his
cutting knife into my back, thinking, of course, he was standing it in
the wood, when I suddenly squirmed and upset him, and his food and
drink.

"But when it was the dry season and the leaves were off the trees, the
Jungle was so open that even the silly Deer could see the rich color of
my beautiful skin, and for days and days I went hungry. Then I would go
to the small water ponds, _Jheels_, and curling my tail about a tree on
one side, put myself across, and catching a tree on the other side with
my teeth, swing my body back and forth and throw the water all out on
the land. Then I would eat all the Fish-dwellers, and go to sleep for a
week.

[Illustration: "I WOULD STRETCH MY BODY ACROSS IT MUCH AFTER THAT
FASHION."]

"Once in a land of many pigs, I worked for days and days in that part
of the Jungle bending down small trees, and arranging the creepers
until I had a _keddah_ with two long sides running far out into the
Jungle. Then, going beyond, I made a great noise, rushing up and down,
and many of these Dwellers being possessed of fear, fled into the
_keddah_ and I devoured them."

Chita sat on his haunches and looked at Python in astonishment, his big
black head low hung, and a sneer of great unbelief on his mustached
lips.

"Surely this is the one great liar!" he exclaimed. "If these things be
not written in the Book, then Python has most surely had such a dream
as he has told us of."

"Without doubt it is a lie," declared Magh, "but for my part I am ready
to believe anything of his kind. In my Jungle home never once did I
climb out on a tree limb without pinching it to see whether it was wood
or a vile thing such as yon mottled boaster."

"Are the stories of Python written in the Book, O Sa'-zada?" queried
Mooswa.

"No," answered the Keeper, "but Python may have had this strange manner
of life."

"Whether they be true tales or false tales," hissed Python, "I am now
tired, and they are at an end."

"Well," said Sa'-zada, stroking the glistening scales of the big
Snake's head, "it is time to cage up now. Perhaps we'll all have
strange dreams to-night."

Soon the animals were sound asleep, all but Magh, who spent an hour
chattering to Blitz, her Fox Terrier Pup, on the enormity of telling
false tales.




Sixth Night

The Story of the Monkeys

[Illustration]

[Illustration]




SIXTH NIGHT

THE STORY OF THE MONKEYS


Such a row there had been all day in Animal Town.

Sa'-zada, the Keeper, had told Magh, the Orang-outang, that the Monkeys
were to tell stories that night at the usual meeting. That was the
cause of the excitement.

All day the Monkeys, living in a row of cages like dwellers in tenement
houses, had chattered to each other through the bars, and admonished
one another to think of just the cleverest things any of their family
or ancestors had ever done.

"We are like the Men-kind," Magh kept repeating; "we are the
Bandar-log, the Jungle People.

"Listen, Comrades, what is my name even? Orang-outang, which means
Chief of the Jungle People.

"See, even I have my Dog, as do the Men-kind," and she held up Blitz,
the Fox-Terrier Pup, by the ear until he squealed and bit her in the
arm. "See, he has bitten me even as he would a man," she cried,
triumphantly.

Two doors down were three little brown Monkeys caged with an Armadillo
who looked like a toy, iron-plated gun-boat.

"Oh, we are people who think," cried one of these, pouncing down on the
Armadillo. The little gun-boat drew his armor plate down about him like
a Mud-turtle. The Monkey caught the side of it with his hand, lifted it
up, bit the Armadillo in the soft flesh, and raced up on his shelf
where he chattered: "Oh, we are the people who think. That is not
instinct--my father was never caged with an Armadillo."

At last night came, and Sa'-zada, throwing down bars and opening cages,
had gathered as usual his animal friends in front of Tiger's cage.

"Ho, Little Brother," began Black Panther, speaking to Sa'-zada, "why
should we who are great in our own jungles listen to these empty-headed
Bandar-log? Was there ever any good at their hands?"

"Oo-oo! A-huk, a-huk!" cried Hanuman, "you of all the thieving slayers
should know of that matter. How many times have you been saved from
danger because of our watchfulness--and also Bagh the Killer! Many a
hard drive, the hunt drive of the Men-kind, has come to nothing because
of us--because we never sleep. When your stomach is full you sleep
soundly, trusting to a warning from us, the Bandar-log. Nothing can be
done in the jungles that we do not know. And do we steal silently away
as is your method? Not a bit of it. By the safety of Jungle-dwellers!
we give the cry of beware! Listen----

"A-huk, a-huk! Chee-chee-chee! Waugh, waugh, a-huk!" and the voice of
the gray-whiskered, black-faced ape reverberated on the dead night air
through the houses of Animal Town like the clangor of a cracked bell.

"That is quite true," declared Mor, the Peacock; "I also am one of the
Jungle Watchers--though I get little credit for it. None of the
Dwellers thank us; and sometimes in their anger the Sahibs who are
making the drive shoot us for our trouble, saying that we have spoiled
sport. Many a jungle life have I saved through my cry of 'Miaou!
Miaou!'"

"Disturbers of sleep!" sneered Black Panther; "there is little to
choose between you--you're a noisy lot of beggars."

"You are hardly fair, Pardus," remonstrated Sa'-zada. "I quite believe
what Hanuman says, for it is well known that some of the Monkey-tribe
saved Gibraltar to the British by their watchfulness, and the men are
more grateful than you, for to this day monkeys are protected and made
much of there."

"It was my people did that," cried Magot, the Rock Ape, blinking his
deep, narrow-set eyes. "We have lived there for a long time."

"And in Benares, where I lived once, we are people of great honor,"
added a white-whiskered Monkey. "I should like to see Black Pardus harm
one of us there."

The speaker was Entellus, the sacred Hanuman Monkey, whose rights of
protection in the City of Temples, Benares, was almost greater than
that of the human dwellers.

"You can't twiddle your thumbs! You can't twiddle your thumbs!" cried
Cockatoo, mockingly.

"But I can see my under lip," retorted Magh, angrily, sticking it out
and looking down at it, "and that's more than you can do, with your
lobster's claw of a nose."

Cockatoo had hit the truth about the thumbs, for no ape can make them
go around, only in and out straight to the palm. This matter of thumbs
is the great line of defence between man and his disputed Simian
ancestor.

"Our manner of life," began Hanuman, in the little silence that ensued,
"is to live in the tree-tops. Our families are raised there, and we are
seldom on the ground."

"No, the ground is a dangerous place," concurred Chimpanzee; "Leopards,
and Snakes, and Men, and evil things of that sort about all the time.
I, too, build a little house in the strong branches of a tree, and live
there until the fruit gets scarce; then, of course, I have to go to a
new part and build another."

"I thought I was the only animal that had sense enough to build a
house," grunted Wild Boar.

"Perhaps you are," said Chimpanzee; "I'm no animal."

"You are a Monkey----" began Boar, apologetically.

"I'm not a Monkey," insisted the other, very haughtily; "they go in
droves. But we, who are the Jungle People, build houses and have a wife
and family just like the Men."

"You can't twiddle your thumbs!" shrieked Cockatoo; but Hathi reached
up with his trunk and tweaked the bird's nose before he could repeat
the taunt.

"Once upon a time," began Hooluk, solemnly, "there was a great Raja
sore troubled because those of my kind, the Apes, ate all the grain and
fruit in his country. To be sure, it was a year of much starvation. And
the King commanded that all the Bandar-log should be killed.

"Then Hanuman, the wise Ape, who was our cousin, asked of my people
what might be done; but we, being tender-hearted, and not knowing how
to pacify the King, hung with our heads down and wept in misery.

"Now this gave Hanuman, who is most wise, an idea. He ordered all the
other Bandar-log to go far into the jungles and hide, while we were to
remain and lament, and declare that our friends were dead. The Raja,
hearing our sad cry, relented, and commanded that the killing should
cease. And since that time we have always cried thus, and our faces
have been black, and all because of the dark sins of the other
Bandar-log."

"Was there ever such a lie----" began Pardus; but Jackal interrupted
him, declaring that he, too, cried at night because of the wickedness
of other Jungle Dwellers.

"By my lonesome life!" muttered Mooswa. "I have heard the Loon cry on
Slave Lake, but for a real, depressing night noise commend me to
Hooluk. I have no doubt his tale is quite true, a cry such as he has
could not have been given him for amusement."

"Scratch my head!" cried Cockatoo; "I think Hooluk's tale is quite
true, for even I, who am only appreciated because of my beauty----"

"Hide your nose," croaked Kauwa, the Crow.

"Because of my beauty," resumed Cockatoo, "I once saved the life of all
my Master's family. The bungalow was on fire and they were asleep.
Scree-ya ah-ah!' I cried; then, 'Quick, Pootai, bring the water----'"

"To be famous one must needs know a great lie and tell it," snarled
Pardus, disagreeably. "The way of all Jungle Dwellers is to kill
something; but here are pot-bellied, empty-headed Apes, and Birds of
little sense, all boasting of saving lives."

"Let me talk," cried Water Monkey, scratching his ribs with industry.
"If I tell not true tales then call Hornbill, and Jackal, and King
Cobra to stand against me, for we are all of the same land. We were a
big family, a full hundred of us at least, and every way was our
way--water, and land, and tree-top. We ate fruits, and nuts, and
grains, and things that are cast up by the waters. Talking of fishing,
you should have seen my mother. When the sea had gone back from the
shore we would all troop down. When the Crabs saw us coming they would
scuttle into holes and under rocks, and we'd catch every Crab on the
shore. It was my mother taught me the trick--wise old lady; I'd shove
my tail under the rock, the Crab would lay hold of it, and then out
he'd come.

"Oh, there was good eating on those shores. Fat Oysters the size of a
banana. It was mother showed me how to take a stone in my hand, and
break them off the rocks. And, as Magh has said, we are much like the
men, for not one of our family would eat an Oyster until he had washed
it in the water.

"But we poor people had lots of trials. Crossing the streams was worst
of all. If we made the Monkeys bridge from tree to tree, like as not
Python would be lying in wait to pick off one of our number. And if we
walked across on the bottom----"

"Walked on the bottom!" cried Sa'-zada, in astonishment.

"Yes, we never swim; we always walk across on the bottom; though,
sometimes, of course, we floated over on logs; but that was very
dangerous because of Magar the Crocodile."

"Ghurrgle-ugle-ugle, uh-hu!" said Sher Abi, "the long-tailed one is
right. I could tell a true story touching that matter. Whuff-f-f! but
it was a hot day. I was lying with my wife in the water near the bank.
I was hungry--I am always hungry; and getting food in a small way is
wearisome to one of my heavy habit. I was resting, and Black-head the
Magar Bird was running about inside of my jaws catching Flies for his
dinner. And, while I think of it, while I am by no means vain of my
sweet nature, I claim it was most good of me to hold my heavy lips open
for him. Suddenly Black-head gave his little cry of warning to me and
flew up in the air. 'Something is coming,' I whispered to Abni, my
wife; and, sure enough, it was the Bandar-log, the Water Monkeys,
chattering and yelling, and knocking down fruit from the trees as
though the whole jungle belonged to them.

"'The old trick,' I whispered to Abni; 'float across like a log.' You
know I can look wondrous like a log when I try; and a dinner of the
Bandar-log, even, was not to be despised in a time of great hunger.

"'Chee-chee, a-houp-a-houp, chickety-chee-chee!' You'd have thought
their throats would split with the uproar when they saw one log
floating across and another just starting.

[Illustration: "AND THEY ALL CLAMBERED ON TO MY BACK."]

"'Oh, ho!' cried the leader, swinging by his tail from a limb of the
Mangrove tree, and peering down at me; 'the wind is driving all the
dead trees from this side to the other. Get aboard, children, quick.'
And they all clambered on to my back, shoving and pushing like a lot of
Jackal pups----"

"Have I not said it," cried Gidar, the Jackal, "that Sher Abi is a
devourer of our young? Jackal pups--murderer!"

"Half way across," resumed Sher Abi, "I opened an eye to take a squint
at the general condition of these Bandar-log, as to which might be fat
and which might be lean, and, would you believe it, the leader of these
fool people saw me looking, and screamed with fright. I closed all the
valves of nostrils and eyes and sank in the water. The Bandar-log were
so excited that more than half of them jumped into my jaws, and Abni,
who came back, hearing the noise, took care of the others. Eh-hu!
Gluck! Monkeys are stupid, but not bad eating."

"Listen to that, Comrades," cried Water Monkey. "Sher Abi the Poacher
boasts of killing my people. Have I not said that our life is one of
danger? He and Python are as bad as Men. My mother was killed by a Man,
and all for the sake of a few mangoes."

"But how are we to know that Mango-tree was not as others in the
Jungle?" pleaded Monkey. "True it grew close to a bungalow, but what of
that? Close to the Jungle, trees and bungalows are so mixed up that
nobody knows which is free land and which is bond land. Have I not seen
even the Men-kind frightened over such matters, and killing each other.
But, as I have said, this Man, who was a Sahib, shot my mother as she
was in a tree. She clung to a limb, and, young as I was, I helped her,
holding on to her arms. All day she cried, and cried, and cried, just
as you have heard the young of the Men-kind; and all night she cried,
too. In the morning the Sahib came out, and I heard him say that he
hadn't slept all night because of the wailing that was like a babe's.
When he looked up at my mother she became so afraid that she fell dead
at his feet. Peeping down through the leaves I saw the fear look that
Hathi has spoken of come into the Man's eyes, only they did not look
evil as they had when he pointed the fire-stick at us. I swung down
from branch to branch to my mother, and sitting beside her, cried also,
being but a little chap and all alone in the Jungle. Then the Man took
me up in his arms and said: 'Poor little Oungea. It was a shame to kill
the old girl; I feel like a murderer----'

"He took me into the bungalow and I had a fine life of it, though he
taught me many things that were evil."

"I don't believe that," sneered Pardus.

[Illustration: "AND SITTING BESIDE HER, CRIED ALSO, BEING BUT A LITTLE
CHAP AND ALL ALONE IN THE JUNGLE...."]

"Impossible! Caw-w!" laughed Kauwa.

"What evil tricks are there left to teach the Bandar-log?" queried
Hathi.

"He taught me to drink gin," answered Oungea; "at first a little gin
and much sugar, and after a time I could take it without sugar."

"This rather bears out Magh's claim that you Jungle People are like the
Men," said Sa'-zada.

"Still it was not good for me, this gin," continued Oungea; "leaving
one's head full of much soreness in the morning. But, of course, being
young, I was possessed of much mischief that was not of the Sahib's
teaching."

"He-he! no doubt, no doubt," cried Hornbill, "it was those of your
kind, both young and old, who plucked the feathers from my children
once upon a time. Plaintain-at-a-gulp! but their appearance was
unseemly. You can imagine what I should look like with my prominent
nose and no feathers."

"My Master carried in his pocket something that was forever crying
'tick, tick, tick.' I felt sure there must be Lizards or Spiders, or
other sweet ones of a small kind within; but one day when I had a fair
opportunity and pulled it apart, cracking it with a stone as I had the
Oysters, I got no eating at all, but in the end a sound beating.

"Once I ate the little berries that grow on the sticks that cause the
fire----"

"Matches," suggested Sa'-zada.

"Perhaps; I thought they were berries. Many pains! but I was sick, and
my kind Master saved my life with cocoanut oil."

"Magh knows something of that matter," declared Sa'-zada; "when she
first came here she ate her straw bedding and it nearly killed her."

"A fine record these Jungle People have," sneered Pardus. "I, who claim
not to be wise like the Men, have sense enough to stick to my meat."

"But Magh was wise," asserted Sa'-zada, "for if she had not helped us
in every way when we were trying to save her life she would surely have
died."

"In my Master's house," said Oungea, "was one of their young, a Babe;
and whenever I got loose, for they took to tying me up, I made straight
for his bed, borrowed his bottle of milk--there surely was no harm in
that, for we were babes together--and scuttled up a tree where I could
drink the milk in peace. When I dropped the bottle down so that they
might get it, it always broke, and I think it was because of this
mischief that they whipped me."

"Well," said Sa'-zada, "we were to have learned to-night why the
Bandar-log were Men of the Jungle, first cousins to the Men-kind; but
all I remember is that they ate matches and straw and got very sick.
For my part I am very sleepy."

"If you are tired, I will carry you, Hanuman," lisped Python, shoving
his ugly fat head forward.

"Even I, who find it a labor to walk on the land, will give any Monkey
who seeks it a ride," sighed Sher Abi. "This talking of eating has made
me hung----I mean ready to put myself out for my friends."

"Take your friends in, you mean," snarled Gidar, jumping back as the
heavy jaws of the Crocodile snapped within an inch of his nose.

"I think each one will look after himself," declared Sa'-zada; "it will
be safer. All to your cages."




Seventh Night

The Story of Birds of a Feather

[Illustration]

[Illustration]




SEVENTH NIGHT

THE STORY OF BIRDS OF A FEATHER


When Sa'-zada the Keeper had gathered all his comrades in front of
Chita's cage for the evening of the Bird talk, Magh clambered up on her
usual perch, Hathi's head, expostulating against the folly of throwing
the meeting open to such gabblers.

"Never mind," remarked Black Panther, "it's the great talkers that are
thought most of here, I see. We, who have accomplished much, having
earned an honest living, but are not over ready with the tongue, amount
to but little."

"Scree-he-ah-h!" cried Cockatoo. "By my crest! I am surely the oldest
one here; shall I begin, O Sa'-zada?"

"Cockatoo was born in Australia," declared Sa'-zada; "at least The Book
says so, but the record of his age only goes back a matter of forty
years."

"Just so," concurred the Cockatoo, "and from there I went to India on a
ship; and for downright evil words there is no Jungle to compare with
a ship. Why, damn it--excuse me, friends, even the memory of my voyage
causes me to swear.

"My master, who was Captain of the ship, gave me to one of the
Women-kind in Calcutta--'Mem-Sahib' the others called her. There I had
just the loveliest life any poor exiled Cockatoo could wish for; it
makes me swear--weep, I mean--when I think of the sweet Eatings she had
for me. Not but that Sa'-zada is kind, only no one but a Woman knows
how to look after a Cockatoo. At tiffin I was always allowed to come on
the table, and the Mem-Sahib would take the cream from the top of the
milk and give it to me. The Sahib threw pieces of bread at my head,
which is like a Man's way, having no regard for the dignity of a
Cockatoo.

"One day, being frightened because of something, I fluttered to the top
of his head, which was all bare of feathers, and verily I believe the
Man-fear, of which Hathi has spoken, came to my new master. I could
almost fancy I was back on the ship, for his language was much like
that of the fo'castle.

"Potai was the sweeper, a low-caste Hindoo of an evil presence; and
save for the fact that he wore no foot-covering I should have been in a
bad way. When the Mem-Sahib was not looking he beat me with his broom,
simply because, that often being lonesome, I'd call aloud, 'Potai!
Potai!' just to see him come running from the stables.

"Thinking to break him of his evil habit of beating me, many times I
hid behind the _purda_ of a door waiting for the coming of his ugly
toes. Swisp! swisp! I'd hear the broom; 'Uh-h, uh-h!' old Potai would
grunt, because of the stooping, and presently under the _purda_, which
hung straight down, would peep his low-caste toes.

"Click! just like that I'd nip quick, and run for the Mem-Sahib,
screaming that Potai was beating me. I'm sure it was not an evil act on
my part, for if any Sahib saw it he would laugh, and give me nuts or
something sweet. That was because everyone knew that Potai was evil and
of a low caste.

"Many a time I saved the tiffin from the thieving crows----"

"Caw-w-w, what-a yar-r-r-n!" growled Kauwa the Crow. "We who are the
cleaners of cities are not thieves. What is a Cockatoo? A teller of
false tales and a breaker of rest."

"Ca-lack! even what Cockatoo has said of Kauwa is true," declared the
Adjutant, solemnly, snapping his sword in its scabbard; "I, who am
_the_ cleaner of cities, consider Kauwa but a thief. Once many of the
Seven Sisters, for that is the evil name of Kauwa's tribe, stole a
full-flavored fish from my very teeth----"

"Aw, aw, aw! let me tell it, let me tell it," cried Kauwa; "let me tell
the true tale of my solemn friend's stealing."

"Now we shall get at the real history of the Feathered Kind," chuckled
Pardus. "When the Jungle Dwellers fall out amongst themselves and make
much clatter, there is always the chance of an easy Kill."

"Caw-aw-aw! It was this way," fairly snapped Crow. "A seller of small
things, a _box wallah_, walking in an honest way fast after the _palki_
of a great Sahib, even on the Red Road of Calcutta, by chance was
struck by another _palki_ and his box of many things thrown to the
ground. Then this honest one of the straight face, Adjutant, seeing the
mishap from his perch on the lion which is over the Viceroy's gate,
swooped down like a proper Dacoit and swallowed some brown Eating which
was like squares of butter, and made haste back to his perch. Even a
Crow would have known better than that, for it was soap. And all day
many of the Men-kind stood and looked at our baldheaded friend, for a
great sickness came to him; and as he coughed, soap-bubbles floated
upward. The Hindoos said it was a work of their gods."

"Just what I thought," grunted Pardus; "all clatter, and no true story
of anything."

"Well," sighed Cockatoo wearily, "my Mem-Sahib always put me in a
little house on the veranda at night. Though I didn't like it at all,
still it was _my_ house, and one day, in the midst of a rain, when I
sought to enter, inside were two of the Cat young."

[Illustration: "AND AS HE COUGHED, SOAP BUBBLES FLOATED UPWARD."]

"Kittens?" queried Sa'-zada.

"Ee-he-ah; and just behind me the old Cat with another in her mouth.
Hard nuts! but such a row you never heard in your life. When I tried to
drag the Kittens out, the Cat dug her beak----"

"Claws, you mean," corrected Sa'-zada.

"Ee-he-ah--claws in my back; but the Mem-Sahib took them away."

"Ugh, ugh! all lies! Bird talk!" grunted Boar. "What say you,
Sa'-zada?"

"It is true," declared the Keeper, much to the disgust of his
questioner; "for in The Book are also other true tales of Cockatoo. The
Mem-Sahib has written that he was a great mischief-maker. She says that
on the back veranda of her bungalow was a filter, and when 'Cocky'
wanted a bath, he used to turn the tap, but never knew enough to shut
it off, so the filter was always running dry.

"Also, there was a guava tree in the compound, and our friend ate all
the guavas just as they ripened, so no one but Cocky got any of the
fruit. That he was always fighting with Jock, her Scotch Terrier, and
the clamor fair made her head ache."

"Whatever Sa'-zada reads from The Book is most certainly true,"
commented Magh.

"I've been thinking," began the Adjutant, solemnly----

"You look like it," growled Wolf.

"Of a story about Kauwa," continued the Adjutant----

"He stole three silver spoons from my Mem-Sahib," interrupted Cocky
hastily, suddenly remembering the incident, "and hid them in the
Dog-cart, where they were found next day; which shows that he is
neither wise nor honest."

"Mine is a true tale," declared Adjutant, with great dignity. "One
morning, looking calmly over the great city to see that all had been
tidied up, I saw my little black friend, whose voice is like unto the
squeak of a Bullock-cart, crouched in an open window, with wings well
spread ready for flight.

"'A new piece of thieving,' thought I, and, drawing closer, I saw Kauwa
hop to the floor, pass over to a bed on which slept a Sahib, and gently
take a slice of toast from the top of a cup; then away went the thief.

"But the full wickedness was later, for when the Sahib awoke he spoke
to his servant in the manner which Cockatoo has related of the ship.
And when the other, who was of the Black Kind, declared he had put the
toast beside his Master, the Sahib beat him for a liar. Even three
mornings did Kauwa take the toast; but on the fourth the Sahib, who was
pretending to sleep, nearly broke his back with the cast of a boot."

"Jungle Dwellers are Jungle Dwellers, and City Dwellers are City
Dwellers," commenced Hornbill, gravely, "and I'm so glad I'm a Jungle
Dweller. These tales show what city life is like. Save for an
occasional row with Magh's friends, Hanuman and the rest, whose
stomachs are out of all proportion to the quantity of fruit to be had,
I have led a very peaceful life in the Jungle."

[Illustration: "LEAVING JUST A PLACE FOR HER SHARP BEAK."]

"Tell me," queried Magh, maliciously, "do your Young roost on your
nose?"

"No; that is to keep inquisitive folks at a distance. And, talking of
Young, when my wife has laid her two big eggs in a hole in some tree, I
shut her up there with the eggs--make her stay home to mind the house
and the oncoming family. I plaster up the hole with mud, leaving just a
place for her sharp beak; this to keep the Monkeys from stealing her
and the eggs."

"Kaw-aw-aw! Talking of nests," said Kauwa, "when I was in Calcutta I
designed a nest that would last forever--yes, forever. Each year before
that time, because of the monsoon winds, my nest had always been
destroyed; but the time I speak of, having a job on hand----"

"On beak, you mean!" laughed Sa'-zada.

"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

[Illustration]

[Illustration]




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."

[Illustration: "SOMETHING I COULD NOT SEE STRUCK ME MOST VICIOUSLY IN
THE SHOULDER."]

"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.

[Illustration: "SUDDENLY I HEARD A 'SWISP' IN THE AIR, AND MY LITTLE
CURLY-HAIRED PET ..."]

"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

[Illustration]

[Illustration]




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.

[Illustration: "I REMAINED IN THE JHIL UNTIL MY MASTER HAD LOST THE
FIERCE KILL-LOOK."]

"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."

"This is Camel's story," pleaded Sa'-zada.

[Illustration: "BUT SOME WAY I FELT LIKE DOING MY BEST."]

"Never mind," bubbled Unt; "I was just trying to remember what time we
got to Sibi--I know it was before the sands grew hot from the sun.
Straight to the _Teshil_ (Government office) the young Sahib rode me.
Here he made an orderly bring me food and drink while he went quick to
bring a Healer for his Friend. I had scarce time to store half the
_raji_ away for future cud-chewing, when back he came with a Healer of
the White Kind.

"Now, the _Teshildar_, who was Chief of Sibi, was a slow-motioned Man,
not given to hurry; that was because the hump on his stomach was large
with the fat of great eating; and when the Sahib asked for another Unt
to carry the Healer, this Man who was Chief made no haste--not at
first; but when the young Sahib, no doubt thinking of his friend Jack,
threatened him with the wrath of the Governor, also the smaller anger
of his own fists, the _Teshildar_ had an Unt of great speed quickly
brought forth. Then the young Sahib, speaking to me, said, 'My
heavy-eyed Friend, also one of much strength, can you go straight back
the sixty miles?'

"Of course, at that time I couldn't speak in his words, though I could
understand, so I just shook myself, and stretched out my long hind
legs, as much as to say, 'Mount to my back, and I will try.'

"We started, the Healer on the other Unt, and the Sahib on my back. I
shall never forget that ride. Sore legs! but at first it was not easy
to keep up with my Comrade, who was fresh; but also was he a trifle
like the _Teshildar_, fat in the hump, so in the end that had its
effect, and I managed to keep pace with him.

"We reached back in the Bolan just as the sun was straight over our
heads. By the _raji_ that was still in my gullet I was tired; so was
the young Sahib, for when I knelt down, and he slipped quickly from my
back, he spun round and round like a box that has broken loose, and
came to the ground in haste. Just as he fell, Dera Khan caught him, and
lifted him up; then he and the Healer went to the tent where was his
friend Jack. And I heard my Master, Dera, say afterward, that the
little Sahib never slept while it was twice dark and twice light; that
was until the Healer said the stricken one, Jack, the Burra-Sahib, was
again free of the Black Death."

"I think it is a true tale," remarked Adjutant, putting down his left
leg and taking up his right. "I have seen much of this Black Death in
my forty years of life, and the Men of the White-kind take great care
of each other. Now, those of the Black-kind get the Man-fear which
Hathi has spoken of, in their eyes, and flee fast from this terrible
sickness, crying aloud that their livers have turned to water. I,
myself, though I am a bird of little speech, could tell tales of both
methods."

"But what became of you, Unt?" queried Magh; "did you catch this
sickness and die?"

"No," replied Camel, solemnly, not noticing the sarcasm; "the little
Sahib took me from Dera Khan by a present of silver, and kept me to
ride on, and in the end I was sent here to Sa'-zada."

"It's bed-time," broke in the Keeper; "let each one go quickly to his
cage or corral."




Tenth Night

The Story of Big Tusk, the Wild Boar

[Illustration]

[Illustration]




TENTH NIGHT

THE STORY OF BIG TUSK, THE WILD BOAR


'Twas the tenth night of what might be called the Sa'-zada convention,
and Black Panther was making the iron bars of his cage jingle in their
sockets with his full-voiced roar. Shoulders spread, and head low to
the floor, his white fangs showing, he called "Waugh, waugh! Waw-houk!
Come, Comrades. Ganesh, One-tusked Lord of the Jungles, Muskwa and
Mooswa; you, Sher Abi, eater of Water-men; even little Magh; come all
of you and listen to the lies of a Swine." Then he laughed: "Che-hough,
che-hough! the lying tales of Jungli Soor."

"Ugh, ugh!" grunted Grey Boar, angrily, as he slipped up the graveled
walk to the front of Leopard's cage. "In my land there is a saying of
the Men-kind, that 'A lie can hide like a Panther; if it be a bad lie,
that it is as difficult to come face to face with as Black Panther.'"

By this time the animals had all gathered, and Sa'-zada opening The
Book, spoke:

"This is Wild Boar's night. I am sure he will tell us something
interesting."

"A lie is often amusing," declared Magh.

"That may be so," retorted Boar, "for even Sa'-zada has said that you
are the funniest Animal in the Park."

"But why should we listen to Soor's squeaky tales?" snarled Bagh; "when
he gets excited his voice puts me on edge."

"Well," interrupted Sa'-zada, "these meetings are so that each animal
may have a chance to tell us what good there is in him."

"Then why should Soor waste our time?" queried Magh. "Even he will know
no good of himself."

"I don't know about that," answered Sa'-zada. "I think every animal is
for some good purpose, and we can tell better after we have heard
Boar's story."

"Here are two of us, O Sa'-zada," said Grey Boar. "I, who am from
Burma, know of the way of my kind in that land, and Big Tusk, who is
also here, being my Comrade, is from Nagpore, in India, and can tell
you how we are persecuted in the North. If I am all bad, can anyone say
why it is? I am not an eater of Bhainsa, Men's Buffalo, like Bagh and
Pardus; neither am I, nor any of my Kind, known as Man-killers. Even in
Hathi's family have there been Man-killers--the Rogue Hathi."

"But it is said in the Jungles that you sometimes kill _Bakri_, the
Men's Sheep," declared Magh.

"All a lie!" answered Grey Boar. "We are not animals of the Kill;
neither do we wreck the villages of the Men, as does Hathi, nor drive
the rice-growers from their lands--lest they be eaten--as do Bagh and
Pardus."

"But you eat their jowari and rice," asserted Panther.

"A little of it at times, perhaps, but only a little. Our food is of
the Jungles, and how are we to know just what has been grown by the
Men, and what has grown of itself? And in my land, which was Aracan in
Burma, but for me and my people the Men could not live."

"In what manner, O Benefactor of the Oppressed?" asked Magh, mockingly.

"Because of Python, and Cobra, and Karait, and Deboia, and the other
small Dealers of Death," answered Grey Boar, sturdily. "We roam the
Jungles, and when these Snakes, that are surely evil, rise in our
paths, we trample them, and tear them with our tusks----"

"And eat them, I know, cha-hau, cha-hau!" laughed Hyena, smacking his
watering lips.

"Yes," affirmed Grey Boar. "Are not we, alone, of all Animals for this
work? When Cobra strikes, and fetches home, does not even Hathi, or
Arna, or mighty Raj Bagh, die quickly? But not so with us. I can turn
my cheek, thus, to King Cobra, (and he held his big grizzled head
sideways), and when I feel the soft pat of his cold nose against my fat
jaw, I seize him by the neck, and in a minute one of the worst enemies
of Man is dead."

"What says King Cobra, then--Cobra and the others--crawling
destroyers?" asked Magh, maliciously.

"This is Boar's story," interrupted Mooswa, seeing that Sa'-zada looked
angry at the interruption.

"As I was saying," continued Grey Boar, "Cobra and his cousins kill
more of the Men-kind, many times over, than all the other Jungle
Dwellers put together. Think of that, Comrades--even when we are
searching the Jungles on every side for these evil Poisoners; so if it
were not for us, what would become of the Men? Yet in a hot time of
little Jungle food, if we but eat a small share from their fields, the
Men revile us. Also, there is cause for fear at times in this labor
that is ours. Once I remember I had a tight squeeze----"

"Going through a fence into a jowari field, I suppose," prompted Magh.

"I did not have my tail cut off for stealing cocoa-nuts," sneered Grey
Boar. "The tight squeeze was from Python; and do you know that to this
day I am half a head longer than I was before our slim Friend twisted
about my body. But I got his head in my strong jaws just as I was near
dead."

"Perhaps you would not have managed it if he had not squeezed you out
long," said Pardus.

"What I say," continued Boar, "is, that we are not the Evil Kind that
is in the mouth of everyone. Cobra crawls into the houses of the Men,
and for fear of their evil Gods they feed him; and one day in anger he
strikes to Kill. That is surely wrong. But we live in houses of our own
make."

"Certainly that is a lie," interrupted Magh. "Thou art a wanderer in
the Jungle, a dweller in caves, even as Pard the Panther."

"You are wrong, Little One," declared Hathi, "for I have seen Boar's
house. It's a sort of grass hauda."

"Yes," affirmed Wild Boar; "it is all of my own making, and of grass,
to be sure. For days and days at a time, I do nothing but cut the
strong elephant grass, and the big ferns, and the sweet bowlchie, and
pile it up into a house. Then I burrow under it, and the rain beats it
down over my back, and soon I have a nice, clean, waterproof nest. I am
not a homeless vagabond like Magh and her wandering tribe----"

"And that's just it," broke in Big Tusk, the Nagpore Boar. "We, who are
quiet and orderly in our manner of life, living in houses of our own
building, as Grey Boar has said, are hunted and killed by the
White-faced ones as a matter of sport. What think you of that,
Sa'-zada--killed just for our tusks--for a pair of teeth?"

"It is likewise so with me, my narrow-faced Brother," whispered Hathi.
"Many of my kind are slain for their tusks; I, who have lived amongst
the Men, know that."

Continued Big Tusk: "Yes, this is so; I have been in many a run in the
corries of Nagpore. You see, I learned the game from my Mother when I
was but a 'Squeaker,' for be it to the credit of the White ones, they
kill not the Sows with their sharp spears."

"Was that pig-sticking?" asked Sa'-zada.

"It was," declared Big Tusk; "and my Mother, who was in charge of a
Sounder of at least thirty Pigs, knew all about this game. We'd be
feeding in the sweet bowlchie grass, or in a _thur khet_, when suddenly
I'd hear her say, 'Waugh! Ung-h-gh!' which meant, 'Danger! lie low.'
Then, watching, we'd see those of the Black-kind here, and there, and
all over, with flags in their hands to drive the Pigs certain ways, and
to show the Sahibs which way we went. Mother would always make us lie
still until the very last minute; but almost always, sooner or later,
the Sahibs would come galloping on their horses right in amongst us.
'Ugh-ugh-ugh-ugh!' Mother would call to us, and this meant, 'Run for
it, but keep to cover'; and away we'd go, from _sun khet_ to _dol_
field, and then into _shur_ grass, from Sirsee Bund to Hirdee Bund, or
into the tall, thick bowlchie. Now the trouble was this way: Mother was
so big and strong that the Sahibs on their ponies always galloped
after, thinking her a Boar. Even the Black Men with the flags would
cry, '_Hong! Hong! Burra dant wallah!_' which means in their speech, 'A
Boar of big tusks.' Many a time I've heard Mother chuckle over the run
she'd given the Horsemen, for we'd lie up in the grass, and listen to
the White-faced ones, the Sahibs, curse the Black Men most heartily for
their foolishness in calling Mother a big-tusked Boar. It was all done
to save the Tuskers, for while the Sahibs were chasing Mother, many an
old chap has saved having a spear thrust through him by clearing off to
some other _bund_."

"You did have a good schooling," remarked Gidar, the Jackal. "But did
the Sahibs never spear any of your young Brothers?"

"No; as I have said, it was only a big-tusked one they cared for. But
to me it seemed such a cruel thing, even when I was young; killing us
with the sharp spears--for, more than once I've heard the scream of a
Boar as he was stabbed to death."

"But what were you doing in the _dol_ grass, you and your big Mother?"
asked Bagh. "Were not you eating the grain of the poor villagers? I
remember in my time, when I was a free Lord of the Jungles, that a poor
old _ryot_ (farmer) had a little field--a new field it was--just in the
edge of the Jungle. I also remember it was _raji_ he grew in it, and he
prayed to me as though I were one of his Hindoo Gods, asking me to keep
close watch over his field, and to kill all the Pigs, and the Chital,
and Black Buck that might come there to destroy his _raji_. Even, to
give me a liking for the place, that I might mark it down in my line of
hunt, he tied an old Cow there for my first Kill. I was the making of
that Man," declared Bagh, sitting down and smoothing his big coarse
mustache with his velvet paw--"the making of him, for he had a splendid
crop of _raji_, and I, why I must have killed a dozen Pigs in and about
his field."

"Oh, dear me!" cried Magh. "Sugared peanuts! Every Jungle Dweller is
growing into a benefactor of the Men; even Pig is a much abused,
innocent chap; and here's Bagh a protector of the poor _ryot_."

"But what were you doing in the _dol_ field, Grunter?" queried Cobra;
"that's what Bagh wants to know."

"Looking for Snakes," answered Boar, sulkily. "But what if we did eat a
trifle of the grain; was that excuse for the Sahibs killing us? With
their Horses did they not beat down and destroy more than we did? And
have not the people of the land, the Black-kind, taken more from us in
the way of food than we ever did from their fields? Many a time have
they been saved from starvation by the meat of my tribe. And yet,
through it all, we get nothing but a bad name, and that just because we
stick up for our rights. Bagh talks about keeping us from the Man's
field; that is just like him--it is either a false tale or he ate
'Squeakers'--little Pigs that couldn't protect themselves. Would he
tackle Me? Not a bit of it! If he did I'd soon put different colored
stripes on his jacket--red stripes. He's a big, sneaking coward, that's
what Bagh is. Why, I've seen him sitting with his back against a rock,
afraid to move, while six Jungle Dogs snapped at his very nose--waiting
for him to get up that they might fight him from all sides. Ugh, ugh! a
fine Lord of the Jungle! a sneak, to eat little Pigs!

"But I did more than keep a _raji_ field for a poor villager; I saved
his life, and from Bagh, too. I don't know that he had ever given me to
eat willingly, or even made _pooja_ to me, but I was coming up out of
his _thur_ field one evening, and he was fair in my path, with one of
those foolish ringed sticks in his hand. 'Ugh!' I said, meaning, 'Get
out of the way,' but he only stood there.

"This made me cross, and I thought he was disputing the road with me,
for I am not like Bagh, the Lord of the Jungle, who slinks to one side.
Then I spoke again to the man, 'Ugh, ugh, wungh!' meaning that I was
about to charge. All the time I was coming closer to him on the path.
Then I saw what it was; my friend, Stripes the Tiger, was crouched just
beyond the Man, lashing the grass with his long, silly tail.

"Now as I had made up my mind to charge something that was in my path,
and as the sight of Bagh in his evil temper drew my anger toward him, I
drove full at his yellow throat. Just one rip of my tusks, and with a
howl like a starved Jackal he cleared for the Jungle. He meant to eat
that Man, you see."

"Now we are getting at the truth of the matter," cried Magh, gleefully.
"When these Jungle thieves fall out, we get to know them fairly well."

"But tell us more of this hunting of your kind with the spears, O
brother of the Big Tusks," pleaded Hathi. "It does seem an unjust
thing."

"Well," continued the Seoni Boar, "as I have said, while in my Mother's
keeping, she taught me much of the ways of the Boar Hunters. Many a run
from the Spear Men I've been in. But while I was small, and had not
tusks, of course I was allowed to go, even when they came full upon the
top of us; but in a few years my tusks grew, and each run became harder
and more difficult to get away from. Besides, early in the Cold Time,
at the time the Men call Christmas, we Boars all went off by ourselves,
and left the Sows and Squeakers in peace; and, while I think of it,
I've no doubt it was at this time that Bagh killed so many of my people
in the _raji_ fields. Had there been a big Tusker or two there, Tiger
would have been busy looking for Chital or Sambhur.

"Well, through being away from my Mother this way, and mixing with the
other Boars, I got to be quite capable of taking care of myself; and,
as I lived year after year, finally the Black Men, Ugh! also the
White-faced ones, gave to me the name of the Seoni Boar. So, with the
more knowledge I gained with my years of being, the more I required it,
for the closer they hunted me.

[Illustration: "IT WAS AT THIS TIME THAT BAGH KILLED SO MANY OF MY
PEOPLE."]

"Strange how it is that every Jungle Dweller's hand is against the Pig.
I declare here, before all you Comrades, that more than once I have
been lying dog-oh, close hid in the _bowlchie_, when a screech-voiced
Peacock has commenced to cry, 'Aih-ou, aih-ou!' as plain as you like,
'Here he is, here he is!' and down on my heels would come the Spear Men
on their rushing Ponies. But I soon learned to take to the
Scrub-Jungle, knowing that the ponies would not follow me. But even
there in the Jungle I've been hunted by the Black-kind; and then it was
the same way, enemies afoot, and enemies overhead. Langur, a
fool-cousin of Magh's there, many a time has betrayed my hiding-place
to the hunt Man. 'Che-che-che, wow, wow!' over my head the silly
thieves would chatter and well the Huntsmen would know that I had gone
that way.

"Once when I was started out of the Seoni Bund, and was making with
full speed through the _dol khet_, a meddlesome white Dog came chasing
after me, snapping at my heels, and crying, 'Bah, ki-yi, bah, ki-yi!'
Well I knew that as long as that noise kept up, I might as well be
running out in the open in full view, so I checked my pace a little,
and the Dog, with more pluck than good sense, laid me by the ear. With
one rip of my tusk sideways, I cast him open from end to end. But such
matters take some time, and check one when the run is close, and
before I could take to cover again, a Pony was fair on top of me.

"I jinked, as only a Boar who has been in many a run knows how. My jink
was so sudden that the rider, seeking to spear me under his Pony's
neck, came a full cropper in the black cotton-earth. Ugh-huh-huh! it
makes me laugh now when I think of it. Of course I hadn't time to laugh
then, for I had no sooner jinked clear of his spear than I saw coming
up on the other side, the longest one of the Men-kind that was ever in
the Jungle, and what with his spear he seemed like a tree. At once I
remembered what my Mother had told me to do if ever a Spear-hunter got
full on top of me. 'Into the horse's legs,' the old Dame had said;
'that's your only hope.' I must say that I charged Bagh that other time
with greater joy than I slashed into that long Sahib's Pony.

"Of course, the Hunter thought I was going to run for it, so when I
jinked short about and ripped his Pony's foreleg the full length of my
nose, he was taken quite off his guard.

"It seemed as though part of the Jungle had fallen on me, for Pony and
Huntman came down like ripe fruit off the Mowha tree. I got one rip at
the Man's leg, and thought I'd made a fine cut, but I learned
afterward, after they'd caught me, of course, that it was his boot-leg
I had ripped----"

[Illustration: "'INTO THE HORSE'S LEGS,' THE OLD DAME HAD SAID."]

"Oh, Sa'-zada, I believe the Seoni Boar is the best liar we've struck
yet," said Magh.

"Not so," declared the Keeper, "this tale of the pig-sticking is a true
tale, for it is written in The Book."

"I only tell that which is true," declared Big Tusk, the Seoni Boar.
"And before I had got to the Scrub-Jungle, I had a spear driven into my
shoulder from another Sahib, but I put my teeth through the giver's
foot as I knocked his pony over from the side. It was a rare fight that
day, but I got away at last."

"How were you caught?" queried Magh.

"Oh, that was long afterwards, and happened because of Bagh's evil
ways. The Huntman had spread a big net in the Jungle to take Bagh, who
had slain a Woman; and in the drive, not knowing of this evil thing, I
came full into the net, and got so tangled up that I could not move.
When the White Hunter saw that it was I, the Seoni Boar, he said, 'Let
us take him alive, for he has given us mighty sport and fought well.'
So they made a cage and I was forced into it from the net."

"Is that all?" asked Magh.

"Yes," replied Boar.

"Well," continued the Orang-Outang, "from your own account you appear
to be a very fine fellow. I can't understand why all the Jungle
Dwellers, even the Men-kind, connect your name with everything that's
evil. I doubt if one of them could speak as well for himself, were he
allowed to tell his own story."

"As I have said before," commented Sa'-zada, "it's hardly fair to give
an animal a bad name without knowing all about him, and Boar's stories
have all been true, I know. But it's late now, so each one away to his
cage or corral, and sleep."




Eleventh Night

The Stories of Oohoo, the Wolf, and Sher Abi, the Crocodile

[Illustration]

[Illustration]




ELEVENTH NIGHT

THE STORIES OF OOHOO, THE WOLF, AND SHER ABI, THE CROCODILE


"To-night," said Sa'-zada, the Keeper, "we shall have a story from
White Wolf of his home in the frozen North, and also one from Sher Abi,
the Crocodile, of the warm land in which he lived, Burma."

"I am glad there is to be a tale of the North-land," said Mooswa, "for
it's a lovely place."

"And Sher Abi is so stupid," added Magh the Orang, "that he's sure to
fall to boasting of some of his murders."

"There's little to choose between them in that respect," commented
Muskwa, "except that for cunning there is no one but Carcajou of the
same wit as Wolf."

"Thank you, Comrade," cried Oohoo, the Arctic Wolf; "those of my land
who are short of wit go with a lean stomach, I can tell you. But yet it
is just the sweetest place that any poor animal ever lived in."

"It is," concurred Mooswa; "forests of green Spruce trees----"

"Not so, Brother Tangle-leg," objected Oohoo; "true I have been within
the Timber Boundaries, but that was far to the south of my home. I
remember, once upon a time, thinking to better my condition, for it was
a year of scarce Caribou; I trailed down past Great Slave Lake to the
home of my cousin, Blue Wolf, who was Pack Leader of the Timber Wolves.
Ghurrh-h! but they led a busy life. Almost day and night they were on
the hunt, for their kill was small; a Grey Rabbit, or a Grouse, or a
Marten--a mere mouthful for a full-hungered Wolf.

"But in the Northland where one could travel for days and days over the
white snow and the hunt meant a free run with no chance of cover for
the prey, it was all a matter of strength and speed. Leopard has
boasted of the merit of his spotted coat for hiding in the sun-splashed
Jungle; and also Bagh has told how the stripes on his sides hide him in
the strong grass. But look at me, my Comrades----"

"You are pretty," sneered Magh.

"Here I am dirty brown," resumed Oohoo, paying no attention to the
taunt, "and what does that mean?"

"That you are dirty and a Wolf," answered Magh, innocently.

"It shows that I live in a dirty brown place," asserted Wolf. "We are
all dirty brown here."

"I'm not," objected Python.

[Illustration: "ONE COULD TRAVEL FOR DAYS OVER THE WHITE SNOW."]

"You would be if you didn't lie in the water all day; but, as I was
going to say, in that land of snow I was all white, and, by my cunning,
with a careful stalk I always got within a running distance of--of--I
mean anything I wanted to look at closely, you know."

"A Babe Caribou, I suppose," grunted Muskwa; "just to see how he was
coming on. Have I not said that he has the cunning of a great thief?"
Bear whispered to Hathi.

"But if he talks much the truth will come out," answered the Elephant.

"There were just three of us Plain Dwellers in all that great Barren
Land," proceeded Oohoo; "my kind, and Caribou, and Musk-Ox."

"Eu-yah! the Musk-Ox are cousins of mine," remarked Bison. "Queer taste
they have to live in that terrible land of rock and snow. What do they
eat, Oohoo? Surely the sweet Buffalo Grass does not grow there?"

"They do not mind the cold," answered Wolf; "they have the loveliest
long black hair you ever saw on any Animal. And under that again is the
soft grey fur----"

"Yes," interrupted Sa'-zada to explain, "the Musk-Ox seems to have
hair, and fur, and wool all on one pelt--much like a Sheep, and a Goat,
and a Bison combined."

"And as for eating," resumed Oohoo, the Wolf, "the rocks are thickly
covered with moss----"

"Engh-h-h! what a diet!" grunted Bison. "But you know of their manner
of life, Brother Wolf--you must have paid much attention to their ways.
Now in my land when Wolves came too close we gathered our Calves in the
center of the herd----"

"A most wise precaution," asserted Mooswa. "In the Calf time with us
the moan of the Wolf pack caused us to make ready for battle; the Grey
Runners seemed always in the way of a great hunger."

"And what of grass-eating for those cousins of mine, the Caribou--what
ate they?" sharply demanded Elk.

"Caribou have this manner of life," answered Oohoo. "Just at the end of
the great Cold Time all the Mothers go far into the Northland, for that
is the Calf time with them; and by the shores of the great Northland
water their Babe Caribou come forth in peace. And for food the Mothers
eat moss, even as Musk-Ox does, for there is nothing else. Near to the
coming of the Cold Time again the Mothers come back with their Calves,
and the Bulls, who have been in the Southland, meet them."

"Do you eat moss, Oohoo, the Wolf?" queried Magh.

"Am I a Grass-feeder? Did I eat my straw bedding and become ill, like a
wide-mouthed Monkey that I know of?"

"But have you not said, Brother Wolf, that in the Northland Musk-Ox and
Caribou eat moss because there is nothing else? Then what manner of
food do you find?"

"Ghurr-r-h! Eh, what?" gasped Oohoo, feeling that Magh had laid bare
his mode of life.

"Am I different from the others?" he snarled, seeing a broad grin
hovering about the mouth of even Sher Abi, the Crocodile. "Because I am
a Wolf, is there a law in the Boundaries that I shall not eat? Bagh,
and Pardus, and Python, and Sher Abi, they are the Blood Kind, and do
they eat moss or grass? Boar has said that all the evil of the Jungle
is fastened upon the Pig, and in my land it is the Wolf that is wicked.
This has been said by the Man, but are they not worse than we are? When
the hunger, which is not of my desire, comes strong upon me, I go forth
to seek food. I kill not Man; but if Caribou comes my way, and that
which is inside of me says to make a kill, shall I do so, or lie down
and die because of hunger? If a Wolf makes a kill, and feasts until his
hunger is dead, and lies down to sleep, and kills no more until he is
again hungered, it is all wrong, and evil words are spoken of him. But
the Men kill, and kill, never stopping to eat, showing that it is not
because of hunger--they kill until there is no living thing left; then
they boast together of the slaughter.

"I have seen this happening at Fond du Lac, which is a narrow crossing
between two lakes in my own land. There the Caribou pass when they go
to the Northland; and I have seen the Redmen killing these Moss-eaters
as they swam from land to land--killing them beyond all count. In the
Northland the Caribou were even as Buffalo on the Plains, they were
that many; and they came like a running river to the crossing at Fond
du Lac. The Men-kind were hidden behind stones, and when the Caribou
were in the water these Red Slayers followed in canoes, and killed with
their spears, and their knives, and their guns, until everything was
red with blood. Not that they needed the sweet flesh because of hunger,
for from many they took out the tongue, and left all the rest to rot.
We, who are Wolves, and of evil repute, are not so bad as the Men, I
think.

"And also the killing of the Musk-Ox is by the Redmen," declared Oohoo.

"I am afraid we must believe that," muttered Magh, "for Musk-Ox is not
here, and it is a long way to the Northland for proof."

"Neither here nor in any other animal city are there Musk-Ox,"
explained Sa'-zada; "for none have been brought out alive."

"None!" added Wolf solemnly. "The Redmen say that if any are taken
alive the others will all pass to some other land as did Buffalo. Not
but that one of the White Men tried it once; but there is also a story
of Head-taking I could tell."

"Tell it," snapped Pardus; "one lie is as good as another when told of
a distant Jungle."

"Well I remember that year," began Oohoo. "It was colder than any
other time that I have memory of. We had gathered into a mighty Pack,
Comrades; all white we were--all but our Leader, who was Black Wolf.
And such hunger! E-u-uh, au-uh! I was almost blind because of the
hunger pains.

"The Caribou that should have passed did not come; why, I cannot say,
for it was their time of the year, the ending of the Cold Time."

"Were there no Musk-Ox?" insinuated Magh.

"A Wolf can make few kills of Musk-Ox," explained Oohoo, unguardedly;
"that is--I mean--a bad Wolf who might seek a Kill of that sort. They
are like Bison, or Arna, bunching up close in a pack with their
big-horned heads all facing out; and even if the circle is broken, what
then? their fur is so thick that it would take longer jaws than I have
to cut a throat."

"You've tried it, Oohoo," suggested Magh.

"No, I've heard of this matter," he answered. "But the story was this
way. That time two White Men came to the Big Lake----"

"Artillery Lake, I think," explained Sa'-zada.

"I know not, but it is a Big Water, and far north. And there they built
a shack."

"You were interested," remarked Muskwa.

"There were cousins of ours, the Train Dogs, with them, so I sometimes
went close for the chance of a chat----"

"The chance of a Pup, most likely," growled Gidar.

"Then one Man, with two Redmen and the Dog Train, went north after
Musk-Ox. Some of us followed, for we knew that where the Men were there
would be much killing, and much eating left for those of a lean
stomach. It might be that some of the Dogs would die of toil, and we
were that hungry, that starved, that even a Huskie would be sweet
eating.

"As you know, Comrades, there is no timber grows in all that land
beyond the Big Lake, so the Man carried a little wood in the Dog Sled
to make hot his drinking----"

"Tea," suggested Sa'-zada.

"Day after day he tramped to the North, not seeing anything to kill;
and all the time we were getting hungrier and leaner of stomach. At
night we would come close to the little tepee wherein the Hunter slept,
and I fear that something would have happened to him if it had not been
for the wisdom of our Leader, Black Wolf.

"'Wait, Pack Comrades,' he would say, 'there will surely be a kill of
many Musk-Ox. I know the way of the White Men--they come here but for
the shedding of blood.'

"But one night, being close to the edge of starvation, seeing one of
the Huskies come forth from the tepee, not knowing what I did--Ghur-rh!
I had him by the throat. Even now as I remember it, perhaps it was
another of the Pack that put his strong jaws on the Dog's gullet--yes,
I think it was another.

"'Ki, yi-i-i-i! E-e-eh!' he whined.

"'Buh!' loud the Firestick barked as the White Man smote at the Pack
with it.

"After a manner there was some eating that night, what with the Huskie
and three of our kind the Man slew with the Firestick."

"Cannibal!" exclaimed Magh in disgust.

"It was to save our lives," exclaimed Oohoo. "At last the White Man
came to a herd of Musk-Ox; but what think you of the temper Black Wolf
had when he saw that the Men-kind were not for making a big Kill at
all; just the matter of a Head or two to take back with them."

"Queer taste, sure enough," cried Cockatoo. "Now, if it had been a head
with a crest like mine----"

"Or even if it had been Magh's head," insinuated Pardus.

"Eu-wh, eu-u-u-h! to think that a Pack of famished Wolves had trailed
so far through the snow, holding back from a Kill of the Men-kind, and
to get--nothing! True, the Men killed for their own eating and the
Dogs', but what was that to a whole Pack? Buh-h-h! even now it makes me
laugh when I think of the manner we tore down the tepee one night, for
the Men had taken the eating inside to keep it from us.

"After that, having learned wisdom, they killed one of these fat
creatures for us each day. Ghurrh! but a bite!

"And from listening beside the tepee at night, I learned that the
Redmen were angry because of the Head-taking. These Forest-Dwellers
think, Comrades, that if they sell or give away the head of a Kill all
their strength in the hunt will depart."

"It's a wondrous good thing to believe, too," declared Coyote. "Many an
honest meal I've come by when I was woefully hungry through the matter
of a head stuck on a pole, or stump, as a gift to Matchi-Manitou. I
remember one particularly fat head of Muskwa--I mean--but you were
saying, Brother Oohoo, a most interesting happening of the Musk-Ox when
I interrupted you."

"So, when the Redmen knew that it was heads their White Comrade was
after, they were filled with anger, and a fear of the wrath of Manitou;
they declared that something of an evil nature would happen to them if
he took from that land the Heads. And, would you believe it, Comrades,
whether there was truth in the power of this Head-matter or not, I am
unable to say, being but Oohoo the Wolf, but two days from that time,
as they journeyed back toward the Big Water, they fell in with a large
Herd of the round-nosed Musk-Ox, and the Wind wrath came upon them. The
Redmen, thinking to stop the taking of Heads, talked to the
Moss-eaters in a loud voice, as though they were men, bidding them go
far over the Barren Lands and tell all the other Musk-Ox to keep away,
for here was a taker of Heads. But the White Man only laughed, and
killed a Bull Leader who had a beautiful long black beard, swearing
that such a Head was a prize indeed.

"Comrades, perhaps there is someone looking over the lives of Animals
who has power with the Wind and the White Storm. Of this I know not,
but it is a true tale that even as he cut the head from the dead
Moss-eater, such a storm as had not been in the memory of any Dweller
came with the full fury of a hungry Wolf Pack down upon that land. Like
Pups of one litter all of us Wolves huddled together, pulling the cover
of our tails over our noses to keep the heat in. We waited; and moved
not that day, nor that night, nor the next day, nor the night after
that again. Bitter as the storm was, I almost laughed at Black Wolf's
lament. 'Now the men will be dead and lost to us when we might have had
them,' he kept whimpering; 'there will be no more killing of Musk-Ox,
and we shall go hungry.'

"As we crawled out when the storm ceased, our Leader went to where the
snow was rounded up a little higher than the rest. 'Here is the
Musk-Ox,' said Black Wolf; 'let us eat.'

"I remember, as we dug at the snow there was a strong scent of Man. 'It
is the Hunter dead, I think,' Black Wolf said, poking his nose down
into the snow.

"But all at once, 'Buh!' came a hoarse call from the Firestick, and
Black Wolf, our Leader, 'E-e-he-uh!' fell over backward, dead. Then I
knew what it was. The Huntman had cut open the Musk-Ox, and crawling
inside, had kept his life warm through the fierce storm. But the Redmen
had gone. Whether they had died because of the storm, or trailed away
because of the Head-taking, I know not; but there they were not. Close
curled against the Musk-Ox had lain the Hunter's three Dogs, and they,
too, were alive.

"Then commenced such a trail of a Man, Comrades, as I, Wolf though I
am, never wish to see again. E-u-uh! eu-u-uh! but it was dreadful, for
in his face there was the Fear Look that Hathi has spoken of. Night and
day it was there, I think, for he dared not sleep as he hurried back
toward the Big Water. Being without a Leader, we were like a lot of
Monkeys, fighting and jangling amongst ourselves. Some were for killing
him, but others said, 'Wait, surely he will make a kill of Musk-Ox
again, and then we shall have eating--what is one Man to a Wolf Pack in
the way of food?'

"That day, coming up with a Herd, he shot two of the Moss-eaters, and,
as we ate of them, he trailed to the South; but that availed him
little, Comrades, for the swing of a Wolf's going is like the run of a
river; and when he camped that night we also camped there. And the next
day, and the next, it was the same; the Huntman pushing on with tiring
walk striving for his life, and, behind the Pack--some howling for a
Kill of the Man, and some fighting to save him that we might have
greater eating.

"It was the last day before we came to the Big Water. That day, being
full famished, for we had passed the land of the Musk-Ox--though to be
sure he had killed two Caribou for us--we ate his Dogs, and he was
fleeing on foot.

"I must say, Comrades, though I lay no claim to a sweet nature, yet I
wished not to make a Kill of the Man. But five times, as I remember it,
some of the Pack, eager for his life, closed in on him; and five times
with the Firestick he slew many of my Wolf Brethren. Comrades, he made
a brave fight to reach the shack."

"This is a terrible tale," cried Magh, excitedly. "Did he reach the
shack alive, Oohoo?"

"Yes, but would you believe it, Comrades, the White Man who had been
left behind, through being alone and through drinking much Firewater,
had become mad, even as I have seen a Wolf in the time of great heat;
and he knew not his Comrade, the Huntman, but called through the closed
door, 'Go away, go away!'

"'I am Jack,' called the Huntman.

"'Jack is dead!' yelped the Man who was mad. 'He is dead out in the
strong storm, and you are an evil spirit--go away! go away!'

"Oh, Hathi, it was dreadful, dreadful.

"'Let me in, Tom; I am Jack,' pleaded the Huntman who had come so far
through the snow; and, just beyond, we of the Wolf Pack waited, waited,
waited.

"Sa'-zada, the cry of the lone Wolf is not so dreadful as the yelpings
of the Man who was mad. Even we of the Wolf Pack moved back a little
when he called with a fierce voice. And he always answered: 'Go away!
You are an evil spirit. Jack is dead! But I did not kill him--Go away!'
And, Sa'-zada, though it is dreadful, yet it is true, he struck with
his Firestick full through the door, and killed the Man who was Jack.
And in the end he, too, died, and the Wolves buried them both after the
manner of Wolves."

"Chee-hough! it's a terrible tale," said Magh.

"It is true," answered White Wolf; "and all that is the way of my land
which is the Northland.

"In the Hot Time sometimes there are the little red flowers that are
roses, but in the long Cold Time it is as I have said, cold and a land
of much hunger. But it is my land--the Northland."

"Engh-h-hu!" sighed Sher Abi, opening his eyes as though just coming
out of a dream; "I had an experience one time very much like that,
Brother Wolf."

[Illustration: "'LET ME IN, TOM; I AM JACK,' PLEADED THE HUNT MAN."]

"Of a snow storm, Sher Abi?" queried Mooswa, doubtingly.

"No, my solemn friend, I know nothing of snow; I speak of having a Man
inside of one. As Sa'-zada has said, I think it's quite possible, and
I'm sure they must rest nice and warm, too."

"Did a Man cut you open, Magar?" sneered Magh.

"No, little Old Woman, he did not; he was busy that day taking off your
tail for stealing his plantains."

"Tell us about it, Magar," lisped Python. "Wolf's tale of his snow-land
makes me shiver."

"There is not much to tell," murmured Sher Abi, regretfully. "It was
all over in a few minutes, and all an accident, too; and, besides, it
was only one Man. You see, I was sunning myself on a mud bank in
Cherogeah Creek, when I heard 'thomp, thomp, thomp!' which was the
sound of a Boatman's paddle against the side of his log dug-out. I slid
backward into the water, keeping just one eye above it to see what
manner of traveler it might be. It was old Lahbo, a villager who often
went up and down that creek, so I started to swim across, meaning to
come up alongside of his canoe and wish him the favor of Buddha. As you
know, Comrades, all Animals love these Buddhists, for their Master has
taught them not to take the life of any Jungle Dweller.

"As I have said, I was swimming across the creek, when Lahbo, who must
have been asleep, suddenly ran his canoe up on my back. It was such a
light little dug-out, too, quite narrow, and being suddenly startled, I
jumped, and by some means Lahbo's canoe was upset. Poor old Lahbo! How
my heart ached for him when I heard him scream in the water."

"Oh, the evil liar!" whispered Magh in Hathi's ear.

"Hush-h!" whistled Elephant, softly, through his trunk; "Sher Abi was
ever like this; I know him well. It is just his way of boasting; he
knows nobody believes it."

"Poor Lahbo," continued Magar. "I swam quickly to help him, picked him
up tenderly in my jaws, and started for the shore. I would have saved
his life in another minute, but his cries had gone to the ears of some
Villagers, and they were now on the bank of the creek, and with two
Firesticks, also. I was in a terrible fix, Comrades; if I held my head
under water, poor Lahbo would drown; if I held it up, the Village Men
would kill me with the Firestick."

"How did it end, Saver of Life?" asked Pardus. "Did poor Lahbo ask you
to swallow him to save his life?"

"I really can't say what did happen," answered Sher Abi. "To this day
tears come into my eyes when I think of poor Lahbo. And it was all the
fault of the Villagers, for when the Firestick coughed, I think the
Man-fear, that Hathi has spoken of, came over him, for he commenced to
wriggle about so that I couldn't hold him. I was so careful, too, for
my teeth are sharp, and I was afraid of hurting him. But, anyway,
before I knew it, Ee-eh-he! he had slipped down my throat; poor Lahbo!
And do you know, Comrades, I'm a little afraid I'm not done with him
yet, for he had a big two-handed dah (sword) in his waist-band, and I
know that some of the pains I feel at times are due to that; there's
nothing so hard to digest as a Burmese dah. And to this day, Comrades,
sometimes when I'm jumping about it seems to me that bangles and rings
that are inside of me string themselves on that sword--I fancy at times
I can hear them jingle."

"How did you come to have bangles inside of you?" asked Magh most
solicitously.

"Engh-hu! little Moon-face, you make me very tired. If any one tells a
tale you try to put false words into his mouth."

"And bangles," snapped Magh.

"Who spoke of bangles?" asked Sher Abi. "I said not that they were
bangles, but that it was like that--the pains I mean. Perhaps even
Lahbo dropped the dah overboard, for all I know. And look here, little
one, Moon-faced Languar, if you doubt what I say, you may go inside and
see for yourself."

"How came you to this place, Sher Abi?" asked Mooswa. "Did the
Villagers catch you then?"

"Not that time. But once, hearing a Pariah Dog in great distress, I
thought he called to me for aid, even as poor Lahbo had done, so I swam
quickly to lend him help----"

"Poor Dog," jeered Magh.

"But it was all a vile trick of the Men-kind," declared Magar; "though
at the time, not knowing of this, I paid no heed to the matter. There
were two long rows of stakes in the water coming close together at one
end----"

"Lough-hu! I know," murmured Buffalo; "the walls of a stockade."

"Yes," sighed Sher Abi. "And as I pushed through the small end, the
poor Dog being just beyond, and in great distress, a big rope drew
tight about my neck, and before I could so much as object, many of the
Men-kind pulled me out on to the dry land. Then I was sent here to
Sa'-zada."

"Well, well," murmured Hathi, "it seems to me that every Jungle-Dweller
thinks he's badly treated, but judging from all the tales I've heard I
think we've all got our faults--I think we're nearly as bad as the
Men-kind."

"My people are not," objected Buffalo; "we never did harm to anyone."

"Neither did we," exclaimed Mooswa.

"Nor we," added Elk; and soon the clamor became general, all holding
that the Men-kind who killed almost every animal for the sake of
taking its life, and not because they were driven to it by lean
stomachs, were much worse than the Jungle-Dwellers.

"Well, well," decided Hathi, "it seems that most of you are against me,
anyway. I think Buffalo is right in what he says, but some of us have
done much wrong to the Men-kind----"

"Meaning me, of course," ejaculated Wild Boar. "I, who lay no claim to
being good, and who am counted the worst of all Animals, say, with
Buffalo, that the Men-kind have done more harm to me than I to them,
and have been of less benefit to me than I to them."

Then Sa'-zada spoke: "Comrades, this is a question that we can't
settle. If we were all like the Buddhists, and took no life except
because of great need, perhaps it would be better. But now you must all
go back to your cages and corrals to sleep."




Twelfth Night

The Story of Sa'-Zada, "Zoo" Keeper

[Illustration]

[Illustration]




TWELFTH NIGHT

THE STORY OF SA'-ZADA, THE "ZOO" KEEPER


It was the twelfth night of the Sa'-zada stories. For eleven evenings
Tiger, and Leopard, and the others had told of their manner of life,
with more or less relevancy. This night Sa'-zada, the little Master,
was to speak of his jungle and forest experience.

Magh, the Orang, was filled with a joyous anticipation. Perched as
usual on Hathi's broad forehead, she gave expression to little squeaks
of enjoyment.

Once even she stuck out her long, elastic under-lip and broke into the
little jungle song she always had resource to when pleasantly excited:

"Co-oo-oo-oo-oo! Co-wough, wough-oo!" with a rising inflection that
made the listener's ears tingle. She even danced a modest can-can on
Hathi's patient old head.

The Keeper came briskly up the walk, and patting Hathi's trunk
affectionately as it was held out to him, sat on the grass with his
back against Mooswa's side.

"Well, Comrades," he commenced, "before I came to a state of
friendship with the Jungle Dwellers, I was like a great many others of
my kind, and thought the only pleasure to be got from animals was in
killing them."

"It is the beginning of a true talk," commented Pardus.

"And, so, in that time I hunted a great deal," continued Sa'-zada.
"When I first went to Burma to live, my bungalow was just on the edge
of the Jungle, and some of the Dwellers were always forcing their
presence upon me--either Snakes, or Jackals, or Jaruk the Hyena, or the
Bandar-Log; and one night even a Rogue Elephant----"

"Hum-p-p-ph! he should have been prodded with a sharp tusk," commented
Hathi.

"A Rogue Elephant," continued Sa'-zada, "came down and played
basket-ball with my garden and bamboo cook-house. Gidar the Jackal,
with a dozen companions, used to gut my kitchen, and then sit out in
the moonlight and howl at me in derision."

"We sing at night because we can't help it, and not because of ill will
to the Men-kind," corrected Gidar.

"Well, one night, as the Jackals were in the middle of a heavy chorus,
they suddenly ceased; a silence as of death came over everything; it
seemed as though all life had gone miles away from that part of the
country. Then came a hoarse call which shook my little bungalow----"

"I know," interrupted Gidar, "when we stop singing and move away
silently it is to make room for Bagh the Killer. We object to being
seen in the company of a murderer like that."

"Yes, it was Tiger," asserted Sa'-zada, "and two Sahibs, who were my
companions, and, like myself, new to the country, determined to get
him.

"So next evening we took a Goat and tied it just inside the Jungle,
each one of us lying down on the ground at a short distance from our
bait. But the Goat commenced to browse quietly and refused to bleat. I
tried jumping him up and down by the tail and back of his neck, and
he'd bleat just as long as I'd pump. At last I tied him up so that he
stood on his hind legs, and he called then with full vigor. For the
matter of an hour we lay thus, when presently, behind me, I heard the
stealthy step of some huge Jungle Dweller coming for the Goat.

"It was the most deliberate animal I had ever waited for; it seemed
hours that those carefully planted feet had been heading towards the
back of my head. I could see nothing, for I was facing the other way,
and I dared not turn over for fear of frightening the approaching Tiger
away. This is a true tale, Comrades, and I did not like overmuch the
idea of Bagh or Pardus, whichever it might be, pouncing upon me from
behind."

"And they would do it," declared Gidar, "for there is a saying in
their tribe that 'a kill from behind is a kill of skill.'"

"Were you afraid, little Master?" asked Hathi.

"I didn't like it," answered Sa'-zada, evasively.

"I've lain close hid in the Elephant Grass," said Bagh, "when a mighty
drive of the Sahibs was on; and perhaps you felt that time, O Sa'-zada,
even as I did."

"I, too, have heard the Pigstickers galloping, galloping all about a
little _nulla_ where I have sought for safety and the chance of my
life," added Wild Boar, "and it's dreadful. If all the Sahibs could
have known that feeling, even as you did, O Sa'-zada, perhaps they
would hunt us less."

"Perhaps," answered the Keeper; "but I could hear the great animal
creeping, oh, so carefully, step by step, hardly a twig shifting under
his cautious feet--only a little soft rustle of the leaves as they
whispered to the sleepy night air that something of evil was afoot. It
got on my nerves, I must say, for I knew that I had not one chance in a
thousand if Bagh were to spring upon me from behind. A fair fight I did
not mind. I dared not even whisper to my companions, for they were a
short distance from me, lest I should frighten the quarry away. When
the soft-moving feet were within five yards of my head they became
silent, and I felt that the great animal, Bagh or Pardus, or some
other Killer, was crouched ready for a spring.

"One minute, two minutes, an hour--perhaps half the night I seemed
waiting for something to happen. The suspense was dreadful. One of my
comrades had heard the footsteps, too, for I could see his rifle gleam
in the moonlight as he held it ready to fire at sight of the animal.
The strain was so trying that I almost wished Bagh would charge.

"But at last my nerves got the better of me and I turned over on my
face, bringing my Express up to receive the visitor. The noise startled
him, and with a hoarse bark he was off into the Jungle. It was only
little ribbed-faced Barking Deer, who had come out of curiosity to see
what the Goat was making a row about."

Hathi gave a great sigh of relief, for the Little Master's story of
thrilling danger had worked him up to a pitch of excited interest.

"I remember a little tale of a happening," said Arna the Buffalo. "We
were a herd of at least twenty, lying in a bit of nice, soft muddy
land, for it was a wondrous hot day, I remember, when suddenly right
through the midst of us walked a Sahib, and with him was one of the
Black Men-kind. By his manner I knew that he had not seen us, being
half-buried as we were in the _jhil_. Just beyond where we rested was a
plain of the dry grass Eating, and to that our enemies the Men passed.
Comrades, the method of our doing you know, when there is danger. If
it is far away, and we see it, we go quickly from its presence, as is
right for all Jungle Dwellers; but should it come suddenly close upon
us we fight with a strength that even Bagh dreads.

"As I have said, seeing the Sahib so close, our Leader sprang up and
snorted in anger. Now Bagh, when he is in an evil temper, roars loudly;
but we, being people of little voice, trusting more to our horns than
to noise, only call 'Eng-ugh!' before we charge. So, when our Leader
called twice, we rushed out into the field where was this Sahib. I
remember well, the Black man ran with great speed across the Plain, but
the Sahib faced us. In his eyes there was a look such as I have seen in
the eyes of another Bull when I have challenged him, and it was a
question whether we should fight or not.

"But fear came not to this Man," added Arna, decidedly, "for as we
raced down upon him, he smote at us with his Firestick, and taking the
cover that was on his head----"

"His helmet," suggested Sa'-zada.

"The cover in his hand," proceeded Arna, "charged full at us, calling
us evil names in a loud voice. I know not which of us turned in his
gallop, but certain it is that the herd passed on either side of the
Man and he was not hurt."

"But did you not turn and trample him?" asked Boar.

"No," answered Arna; "when we charge we charge, and there's an end of
it."

"That is also our way," concurred Bagh, "except, perhaps, when we are
struck by the Firestick, then sometimes we turn and charge back."

"By-the-memory-of-honey!" said Muskwa the Bear, "I should like to hear
a tale from Sa'-zada of my people."

"Well," declared the Keeper, "there was a happening in connection with
Muskwa's cousin, Grizzly, that makes me tremble--I mean, calls up
rather unpleasant memories to this day."

"I'm glad of that--Whuf! glad we're to have the story," corrected
Muskwa, apologetically.

"It was in the Rocky Mountains," began Sa'-zada, "in the South Kootenay
Pass. I was after Big Horn, the Mountain Sheep, with two Comrades, and
a guide called Eagle Child, when we saw a big Grizzly coming down the
side of a mountain called the Camel's Back.

"Now, Eagle Child was a man very eager to do big things, so, almost
without asking my consent, he laid out the whole plan of campaign. On
the side of the Camel's Back Mountain grew a spruce forest, and through
this snow avalanches had ploughed roadways, from top to bottom, looking
like the streets of a city. Eagle Child called to me as he forded the
mountain stream on his Horse that he would go up one of these snow
roads and get the Grizzly, or turn him down another one for me.

"Now, Comrades, Muskwa here is a man of peace, loving his honey and his
Ants, but Grizzly is one to interview with great caution, and my
Comrade, Eagle Child, being a man of unwise haste, you will understand,
Comrades, that I expected strange happening when he started to
interfere with Grizzly's evening plans, for it was toward the end of
the day."

"It is not wise to meddle with one of a short temper," declared Hathi.

"I am not one of a short temper," objected Grizzly. "I seek a quarrel
with no one; but, perhaps, if this man, who was Sa'-zada's comrade,
sought to make a kill of one of our kind, there may have been trouble.
If I am of a great strength why is that--is it so that I may be killed
easily? Have I not strong claws just as Bagh has his teeth, and Boar
his tusks, and Python his strength of squeeze?--even also have I
somewhat of a squeeze myself. And shall I not use these things that I
have, as do the other Forest Dwellers when their desire is to live? I
am not like Elk that can gallop fast--flee from a slayer. And so, if I,
being strong, fight for my life, it is temper, eh? Wough! I am as I am.
But go on, Little Master--tell us of this happening."

"As I was saying," recommenced Sa'-zada, "when Eagle Child in his
great eagerness started after that Bear, I had an idea there would be
fun, and there was--though I must say that I followed up to give him
some help."

"There was no harm in that," said Grizzly, magnanimously. "Comrades of
the same kind must help each other."

"That Eagle Child had ridden up to meet the Grizzly was in itself a
fair promise for excitement, but also his Cayuse was one of the
jerkiest brutes ever ridden by anybody. He had a great dislike for
spurs."

"Quite right, too," bubbled Unt the Camel; "I remember a Cavalry Man on
my back once----"

Sa'-zada interrupted Camel, and continued: "A dig from the spurs and
the Cayuse would refuse to budge; but, of course, the rider knew that.

"Eagle Child thought that the Bear was working down in a certain
direction, but, as you know, Comrades, Muskwa is a fellow of many
notions, turning and twisting and changing his course beyond all
calculations."

"Yes, we are like that," assented Muskwa. "It is our manner of life. We
find our food in small parts, and in many places--berries here, and
Ants there, and perhaps Honey on the other side. We are not like Bagh,
who goes straight for his Kill, for we must keep a sharp lookout or we
shall find nothing."

"Well, Grizzly evidently turned, for, while my Guide was looking for
him in one direction, he bounced out not ten yards from the Cayuse from
a totally different quarter. This rather startled Eagle Child; and,
though he should have known better, he dug the silly spurs into his
erratic tempered Horse, with the result that the latter balked--bucked
up like a stubborn mule.

"This looked as though he meant to stop and fight it out--the Grizzly
evidently thought so, for he gave a snort of rage and tore down the
mountain full at his enemy. I dared not shoot for fear of striking my
comrade; but one bullet wouldn't have mattered, anyway; it wouldn't
have stopped the charging Grizzly. Luckily for Eagle Child, his Horse
reared just as the Bear arrived, and though he was sent flying,
Muskwa's cousin did not succeed in clawing him, his time being taken up
in making little pieces of the Horse. Eagle Child arrived at the foot
of the mountain very rapidly, for all this had happened at the top of a
long shale cut bank, and he did not look for smooth paths, but just
came away without regard to the means of transport."

"And is that all of the tale?" inquired Magh, with a rather
disappointed air, for she had hoped to hear of Muskwa's getting the
worst of the encounter.

"Not by any means," answered Sa'-zada; "that was but the beginning. My
comrade being out of the way," he continued, "I fired at Grizzly."

[Illustration: "THE GRIZZLY ... BOUNCED OUT NOT TEN YARDS FROM THE
CAYUSE."]

"To kill him?" exclaimed Mooswa, reproachfully.

"That was before I was comrade to the Jungle Dwellers," apologized the
Keeper--"before I knew they were more interesting alive than dead. And
I fear I struck him, too," he added, "for when he had finished knocking
the Horse to pieces we saw him go up the side of the Camel's Back
limping as though a leg had been broken."

"That was a shame," declared Mooswa.

"It would have been a great shame, an outrage," asserted Bagh, "if I,
or Pardus, or even Hathi had broken the leg of a Man; we would have
been hunted by a drove of twenty Elephants, and many of the Men-kind."

"But," objected Magh, "as Sa'-zada has said, that was before he had
proper wisdom, so we bear him no malice. Even Muskwa does not, do you,
old Shaggy Sides?"

"No, I did not know the law of life then," said the Keeper; "and Eagle
Child and myself followed after poor old wounded Grizzly and in our
hearts was a desire for his life. Eagle Child was cross because I had
laughed at him when he came down all covered with mud, also he had lost
a Horse. He swore that he would kill that Bear if it took a week."

"I know," commented Hathi, swinging his trunk sideways and lifting
Jaruk off his feet with a blow in the ribs as if by accident. "I hate
the smell of that Jungle Scavenger," he confided to Magh in a whisper.
"I know," he continued aloud, "I've heard the Sahibs swear often, over
a less matter than the killing of a Horse, too."

"We thought that Grizzly was badly wounded and couldn't go far, and
that we should soon come within range of him up amongst the rocks."

"Of course, he went up, having a broken leg," declared Pardus; "that's
the way with all Forest Dwellers--one pitches going down on three
legs."

"But it was getting late, so we hurried fast. I had tied my Horse to a
tree, for the climb was steep. Up, up, up we went; sometimes catching
sight of Grizzly, sometimes seeing a drop of blood----"

"Dreadful," whimpered Mooswa. "Why should Men be so eager to see the
blood of Forest Dwellers who have not harmed them?"

"Sometimes we saw blood on the rocks," proceeded Sa'-zada, "and
sometimes we followed Grizzly's trail by the mark of a stone upturned
where his strong claws had been planted. Once I got another shot at
him, and struck him, too, but, as Greybeard here might tell you, a
Grizzly is like Arna, he can carry off the matter of twenty bullets
unless they happen upon his heart or brain."

"That is even so," concurred Grizzly. "Whuff! I have at least a dozen
in my own body. The Men seek to improve our tempers after that manner."

"It was getting late," resumed Sa'-zada, "but still we continued
upward, the Bear holding on with great strength. It was October, and in
the hollows of the upper ranges snow was lying like a white apron in a
nurse's lap. 'He went this way,' said the guide to me, pointing to a
narrow ledge of rock around the side of a cliff, with a drop from it of
a thousand feet.

"Now, Eagle Child was a Stony Indian, and they are like Mountain Sheep
in their ability to climb. We had to work our way down carefully to
this ledge, helping each other lest we fall, and even when it was
reached the yawn of the valley a thousand feet below caused me to
tremble. So, cautiously we worked along this narrow path, and, as we
rounded the point, to our great fear we saw that we could go no
farther--a dead wall stood two hundred feet high in front of us.
Slowly, cautiously, we turned our bodies, and went back; and then we
saw what we had overlooked in our eagerness for poor old Grizzly's
life--we could not get up the way we had come down--we were trapped."

"It's a dreadful feeling," declared Pardus, "to be caught in a
Trap--though there were no Men enemies about you, Sa'-zada, to make it
worse."

"Or to be shut up in a Keddah," muttered Hathi--"it's awful. To be
taken out of one's nice pleasant jungle and led into a Keddah trap with
those of the Men-kind trumpeting and calling, and even those of our own
tribe, Elephant, taking part against us."

"Was that what made you friend to the Jungle Dwellers, Sa'-zada?" asked
Muskwa.

"At the time," answered the Keeper, "I thought only of the dreadful fix
we were in. Below, a thousand feet or more, the sharp tops of the
spruce and cedar stood like spears----"

"I've felt a spear in my shoulder, ugh, ugh! it drives one fair mad
with fear and pain," grunted Boar.

"Under our feet was a narrow ledge of rock not the width of Hathi's
back; behind us, and on either side of us, the cliffs ran up hundreds
of feet. On the upper peak of the Camel's Back a snowstorm was shutting
out the last grey light of day--the darkness of night was fast coming
on. I could see nothing for it but to stand perfectly straight with our
backs to the rock wall all through the bitter night and talk to each
other to keep sleep away. The next day our comrades might find us, and
let down a rope to help us up."

"You could also think in the night of how we feel, O Little Brother,
when we are hunted," declared Pardus. "Even perhaps Grizzly with his
broken leg had to lie on some rock, afraid to travel in the night lest
he fall."

"Yes, it was a good time to think of the troubles of Jungle Dwellers,"
concurred Hathi.

"I thought of many things," said the Keeper, softly; "and but for Eagle
Child I fear I should have fallen a dozen times; I felt his hand on my
arm more than once pressing me against the wall. But at last morning
came. I never felt so cold in my life, for, you see, we dared not move
about. But it was noon before I saw my two comrades riding up the
valley looking for us.

"Eagle Child called, 'Hi, yi, yi--oh, yi!' The rocks threw his voice
far out, and they heard it. It took them a long time to climb up to the
place from where we had descended. They had brought their lassos with
them, for they knew that we were cut off; and soon, but with much
cautious labor, we were safe."

"And what of Grizzy?" asked Muskwa, solicitously.

"I hope he, too, got away all right," answered Sa'-zada, "for I never
saw him again--we did not follow him."

"I think Wie-sah-ke-chack led you to that place, Little Master, to give
Grizzly a chance for his life," commented Mooswa.

"I like our Master's story," declared Hathi; "so often I've heard the
Sahibs boasting of the Animals they have killed, but Sa'-zada tells
only of the times fear came to him because of his wrong-doing."

"That happening was of Greybeard, and he is but a cousin of mine,"
complained Muskwa the Black Bear. "Did you never meet with my family,
Little Master?"

"If you insist upon it, Muskwa," answered the Keeper, "I might tell a
little tale of your people."

"I should like that--do," pleaded Black Bear; "in all the stories there
has been nothing of our doing."

"But they were also only relatives of yours, though they were black,
for the happening was in India, and there they are called Bhalu the
Bear. And the happening was not of my doing, either, for I was hunting
Bagh, the Tiger."

"Every hunter takes me for a choice," growled Raj Bagh.

"But this was a bad Tiger," declared Sa'-zada; "he had killed many
people."

"And what of that--Waugh-houk! what of that, Little Master?" demanded
Raj Bagh. "Have not many people killed many of my kind--are they not
always killing us?"

"Still the Little Master is right," objected Hathi. "If a Bull Elephant
becomes Rogue, and, neglecting his proper eating which is in the
Jungle, goes seeking to kill the Men-kind, does he not surely come into
trouble?"

"But we be flesh eaters and slayers of life," answered Raj Bagh.

"Even so, though that were better otherwise, but do you not know of
your own people that the Men-kind are not for Kill? Before all other
Dwellers of the Jungle you stand forth and are ready to battle, but
just the _scent_ of Man causes you to slink away like Jaruk the Hyena."

"I think that is true," commented Mooswa. "Wie-sah-ke-chack has
arranged all that."

Said the Keeper: "It is not right to kill the animals as men do, for
sport, but when Bagh, or any other Jungle Dweller, turns Man-eater, he
should die."

"And Sher Abi, too," squeaked Magh; "his tribe are all Man-eaters--they
should be all killed."

"At any rate," continued the Keeper, "I was after this Man-eater. I had
a _machan_ built in a Pipal tree, and a Buffalo calf tied up near
it----"

"One of your young, Arna," said Bagh, vindictively.

"And early in the evening I climbed into my _machan_ and prepared for
Mister Stripes."

"That's Man's way," sneered Raj Bagh. "What chance have we against them
up in a _machan_? No chance; and they call that sport."

"And what chance has a village woman against a big-fanged Tiger?"
grunted Boar. "No chance. It seems to me there are few in the Jungle as
decent as Hathi and myself; we meddle not with the Men."

"Just before dark," continued Sa'-zada, "I heard a noise coming through
the Khir bushes. 'Bagh comes early,' I thought to myself."

"He must have been hungry to scent a kill before dark," muttered Raj
Bagh.

"He smelt a man and thought it a good chance to commit murder," sneered
Magh.

"It wasn't Tiger at all," said the Keeper, "but three noisy Black
Bears--Bhalu the Bear. I thought they would soon pass, for they do not
meddle much with cattle."

"No, we are not throat cutters like Bagh," whuffed Muskwa.

"But they seemed in an inquisitive mood. Now, the calf was tied to the
foot of a toddy palm, and they looked at him as much as to say, 'What
are you doing here?'"

"I would have explained matters to them had I been there," exclaimed
Arna, shaking his head. "A poor Calf!"

"No doubt they meant to help him out of his trouble," volunteered
Muskwa.

"Presently one of them proceeded to climb the toddy palm, and I thought
they were looking for me perhaps. On the tree was a jar the natives had
put there for catching the toddy liquor; and you can imagine my
surprise, Comrades, when I saw Bhalu take a big drink out of this. When
he came down one of his comrades went up. There were half-a-dozen toddy
trees there, and the Bears helped themselves to the toddy until in the
end they became very drunk."

"I know how that feels," said Oungea the Water Monkey; "have I not
told you, Comrades, of the gin my Master----"

"Caw-w-w, caw-w-w!" interrupted Crow. "I also know of that condition. I
ate some cherries once that had been thrown from a bungalow in
Calcutta, and they made my head wobble so I couldn't fly. A Sahib stood
in the door and laughed and said I was drunk."

"The cherries had been in brandy, I suppose," explained Sa'-zada. "But
Bhalu was most unmistakably drunk. They wanted to play with the Calf,
but he became frightened and bawled. I could see there was small chance
of a visit from Bagh with three drunken Bears and a bellowing Calf at
the foot of my tree."

"This is a nice story, Muskwa," sneered Magh. "I'm so glad to hear of
your people and their ways."

"Only cousins of mine," declared Muskwa, "and called Bhalu."

"All Bears are alike," snapped Coyote; "meddlesome thieves."

"They steal little Pigs," added Boar.

"They wouldn't go away," said Sa'-zada, "and I began to fear that I
shouldn't get a shot at Stripes. I did not want to shoot, because if
Tiger was anywhere in the neighborhood it would put an end to his
visit. I had nothing heavy to throw at them except my water-bottle;
but, finally, taking a long drink to keep the thirst away for a time,
I stood up in the _machan_ and let fly the bottle. It caught the Bear
just behind the ear, and Bhalu, thinking one of his comrades had hurt
him, pitched into the other two, and there was a fierce three-cornered
fight on in a minute."

"I can swear that it is a true tale," barked Gidar, "for twice I've
seen a family of Bhalu's people in just such a stupid fight. Not that
they were possessed of toddy, for they are silly enough at all times.
But it is known in the Jungle that when Bhalu is wounded, he fights
with the first one he sees, even his own brother, thinking he has done
him the harm."

"One chap got the worst of the encounter and reeled off into the
Jungle, the other two following. I could hear them wrangling and
snarling for a long distance--all the world like a party of drunken
sailors."

"These Bear stories are just lovely," grinned Magh. "Aren't they,
Muskwa?"

"Did you kill Bagh, the Man-eater?" asked Muskwa, to change the
subject.

"Yes, I stopped his murderous career that night," answered Sa'-zada.
"He was an evil animal and deserved to die. Now it is late and you must
all go to your cages."

"I'm glad your people had a chance to be heard from, Muskwa," lisped
Magh as she slid down Hathi's trunk. "You always looked so terribly
respectable and honest, that I was really afraid to speak to you."

[Illustration: "BHALU ... PITCHED INTO THE OTHER TWO."]

"Phrut, phrut!" muttered Hathi through his trunk; "I have lived for a
matter of forty years or so, amongst the Jungle Dwellers and with the
Men-kind, and I think that we are all alike, all having some good and
some bad qualities."


THE END




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       *       *       *       *       *


Transcriber's Notes


Added missing hyphen to "Sa'-Zada", but kept the lowercase z variation
"Sa'-zada" which was used throughout the book. Removed the hyphen in
"Sher Abi" for consistency. Corrected mismatched quote marks, and made
the following changes:

Contents: Changed "Bheh" to "Bagh" to match chapter title and
character name.
  Orig.: Raj Bheh, the King Tiger

Page xi: "HANSOR, (the Laugher) Hyena" is only mentioned in the list
of "The Dwellers in Animal Town." "Jaruk the Hyena" is used throughout
the remainder of the book.

Pages 5 and 177: "Pard" is used instead of "Pardus;" it might be
a nickname rather than a typo.

Page 129: Changed "tale" to "tail".
  Orig.: I pulled the tale of every Donkey of the line

Page 225: "Grizzy" may be a typo for "Grizzly," or just Muskwa's
nickname for Grizzly.

Note: Bakri apparently refers to a sheep or goat:
  Page 71: a jungle Bakri (sheep)
  Page 83: I sprang on Bakri the Goat
  Page 175: kill Bakri, the Men's Sheep

Spelling variations:

Pages 8, 58: Wie-sak-ke-chack
Pages 225, 227: Wie-sah-ke-chack






End of Project Gutenberg's The Sa'-Zada Tales, by William Alexander Fraser