began to examine the face. Now Martin had been watching them through the
slits of his not quite closed eyes all the time, and listening to their
talk. Being hungry himself he could not help feeling for them, and not
thinking that it would hurt him to be cut up in pieces and devoured, he
had begun to wish that they would really begin on him. He was both
amused and annoyed at their nervousness, and at last opening wide his
eyes very suddenly he cried, "Feel my heart!"
It was as if a gun had been fired among them; for a moment they were
struck still with terror, and then all together turned and fled, going
away with three very long hops, and then opening wide their great wings
they launched themselves on the air.
For they were not little black men in black silk clothes as it had
seemed, but vultures--those great, high-soaring, black-plumaged birds
which he had watched circling in the sky, looking no bigger than bees or
flies at that vast distance above the earth. And when he was watching
them they were watching him, and after he had fallen asleep they
continued moving round and round in the sky for hours, and seeing him
lying so still on the plain they at last imagined that he was dead, and
one by one they closed or half-closed their wings and dropped, gliding
downwards, growing larger in appearance as they neared the ground, until
the small black spots no bigger than flies were seen to be great black
birds as big as turkeys.
But you see Martin was not dead after all, and so they had to go away
without their dinner.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_Chapter Ten_
_A Troop of Wild Horses_
It seemed so lonely to Martin when the vultures had gone up out of sight
in the sky, so silent and solitary on that immense level plain, that he
could not help wishing them back for the sake of company. They were an
amusing people when they were walking round him, conversing together,
and trying without coming too near to discover whether he was dead or
only sleeping.
All that day it was just as lonely, for though he went on as far as he
could before night, he was still on that great level plain of dry yellow
grass which appeared to have no end, and the blue hills looked no nearer
than when he had started in the morning. He was hungry and thirsty that
evening, and very cold too when he nestled down on the ground with
nothing to cover him but the little heap of dry grass he had gathered
for his bed.
It was better next day, for after walking two or three hours he came to
the end of that yellow plain to higher ground, where the earth was sandy
and barren, with a few scattered bushes growing on it--dark, prickly
bushes like butcher's broom. When he got to the highest part of this
barren ground he saw a green valley beyond, stretching away as far as he
could see on either hand. But it was nice to see a green place again,
and going down into the valley he managed to find some sweet roots to
stay his hunger and thirst; then, after a rest, he went on again, and
when he got to the top of the high ground beyond the valley, he saw
another valley before him, just like the one he had left behind. Again
he rested in that green place, and then slowly went up the high land
beyond, where it was barren and sandy with the dark stiff prickly bushes
growing here and there, and when he got to the top he looked down, and
behold! there was yet another green valley stretching away to the right
and left as far as he could see.
Would they never end--these high barren ridges and the long green
valleys between!
When he toiled slowly up out of this last green resting-place it was
growing late in the day, and he was very tired. Then he came to the top
of another ridge like the others, only higher and more barren, and when
he could see the country beyond, lo! another valley, greener and broader
than those he had left behind, and a river flowing in it, looking like
a band of silver lying along the green earth--a river too broad for him
to cross, stretching away north and south as far as he could see. How
then should he ever be able to get to the hills, still far, far away
beyond that water?
Martin stared at the scene before him for some time; then, feeling very
tired and weak, he sat down on the sandy ground beside a scanty dark
bush. Tears came to his eyes: he felt them running down his cheeks; and
all at once he remembered how long before when his wandering began, he
had dropped a tear, and a small dusty beetle had refreshed himself by
drinking it. He bent down and let a tear drop, and watched it as it sank
into the ground, but no small beetle came out to drink it, and he felt
more lonely and miserable than ever. He began to think of all the queer
creatures and people he had met in the desert, and to wish for them.
Some of them had not been very kind, but he did not remember that now,
it was so sad to be quite alone in the world without even a small beetle
to visit him. He remembered the beautiful people of the Mirage and the
black people of the sky; and the ostrich, and old Jacob, and the
savages, and the serpent, and the black weasel in the forest. He stood
up and stared all round to see if anything was coming, but he could see
nothing and hear nothing.
By-and-by, in that deep silence, there was a sound; it seemed to come
from a great distance, it was so faint. Then it grew louder and nearer;
and far away he saw a little cloud of dust, and then, even through the
dust, dark forms coming swiftly towards him. The sound he heard was like
a long halloo, a cry like the cry of a man, but wild and shrill, like a
bird's cry; and whenever that cry was uttered, it was followed by a
strange confused noise as of the neighing of many horses. They were, in
truth, horses that were coming swiftly towards him--a herd of sixty or
seventy wild horses. He could see and hear them only too plainly now,
looking very terrible in their strength and speed, and the flowing black
manes that covered them like a black cloud, as they came thundering on,
intending perhaps to sweep over him and trample him to death with their
iron-hard hoofs.
All at once, when they were within fifty yards of Martin, the long,
shrill, wild cry went up again, and the horses swerved to one side, and
went sweeping round him in a wide circle. Then, as they galloped by, he
caught sight of the strangest-looking being he had ever seen, a man, on
the back of one of the horses; naked and hairy, he looked like a baboon
as he crouched, doubled up, gripping the shoulders and neck of the horse
with his knees, clinging with his hands to the mane, and craning his
neck like a flying bird. It was this strange rider who had uttered the
long piercing man-and-bird-like cries; and now changing his voice to a
whinnying sound the horses came to a stop, and gathering together in a
crowd they stood tossing their manes and staring at Martin with their
wild, startled eyes.
In another moment the wild rider came bounding out from among them, and
moving now erect, now on all fours, came sideling up to Martin, flinging
his arms and legs about, wagging his head, grimacing and uttering
whinnying and other curious noises. Never had Martin looked upon so
strange a man! He was long and lean so that you could have counted his
ribs, and he was stark naked, except for the hair of his head and face,
which half covered him. His skin was of a yellowish brown colour, and
the hair the colour of old dead grass; and it was coarse and tangled,
falling over his shoulders and back and covering his forehead like a
thatch, his big brown nose standing out beneath it like a beak. The face
was covered with the beard which was tangled too, and grew down to his
waist. After staring at Martin for some time with his big, yellow,
goat-like eyes, he pranced up to him and began to sniff round him, then
touched him with his nose on his face, arms, and shoulders.
"Who are you?" said Martin in astonishment.
For only answer the other squealed and whinnied, grimacing and kicking
his legs up at the same time. Then the horses advanced to them, and
gathering round in a close crowd began touching Martin with their noses.
He liked it--the softness of their sensitive skins, which were like
velvet, and putting up his hands he began to stroke their noses. Then
one by one, after smelling him, and being touched by his hand, they
turned away, and going down into the valley were soon scattered about,
most of them grazing, some rolling, others lying stretched out on the
grass as if to sleep; while the young foals in the troop, leaving their
dams, began playing about and challenging one another to run a race.
Martin, following and watching them, almost wished that he too could go
on four legs to join them in their games. He trusted those wild horses,
but he was still puzzled by that strange man, who had also left him now
and was going quietly round on all fours, smelling at the grass.
By-and-by he found something to his liking in a small patch of tender
green clover, which he began nosing and tearing it up with his teeth,
then turning his head round he stared back at Martin, his jaws working
vigorously all the time, the stems and leaves of the clover he was
eating sticking out from his mouth and hanging about his beard. All at
once he jumped up, and flying back at Martin, snatched him up from the
ground, carried him to the clover patch, and set him upon it, face down,
on all fours; then when Martin sat up he grasped him by the head and
forced it down until his nose was on the grass so as to make him smell
it and know that it was good. But smell it he would not, and finally the
other seized him roughly again and opening his mouth, forced a bunch of
grass into it.
"It's grass, and I sha'n't eat it!" screamed Martin, crying with anger
at being so treated, and spewing the green stuff out of his mouth.
Then the man released him, and withdrawing a space of two or three
yards, sat down on his haunches, and, planting his bony elbows on his
knees thrust his great brown fingers in his tangled hair, and stared at
Martin with his big yellow goat's eyes for a long time.
Suddenly a wild excited look came into his eyes, and, leaping up with a
shrill cry, which caused all the horses to look round at him, he once
more snatched Martin up, and holding him firmly gripped to his ribby
side by his arm, bounded off to where a mare was standing giving suck to
her young foal. With a vigorous kick he sent the foal away, and forced
Martin to take his place, and, to make it easier for him, pressed the
teat into his mouth. Martin was not accustomed to feed in that way, and
he not only refused to suck, but continued to cry with indignation at
such treatment, and to struggle with all his little might to free
himself. His striving was all in vain; and by-and-by the man, seeing
that he would not suck, had a fresh idea, and, gripping Martin more
firmly than ever, with one hand forced and held his mouth open, and with
the other drew a stream of milk into it. After choking and spluttering
and crying more than ever for a while, Martin began to grow quiet, and
to swallow the milk with some satisfaction, for he was very hungry and
thirsty, and it tasted very good. By-and-by, when no more milk could be
drawn from the teats, he was taken to a second mare, from which the foal
was kicked away with as little ceremony as the first one, and then he
had as much more milk as he wanted, and began to like being fed in this
amusing way.
Of what happened after that Martin did not know much, except that the
man seemed very happy after feeding him. He set Martin on the back of a
horse, then jumped and danced round him, making funny chuckling noises,
after which he rolled horse-like on the grass, his arms and legs up in
the air, and finally, pulling Martin down, he made him roll too.
But the little fellow was too tired to keep his eyes any longer open,
and when he next opened them it was morning, and he found himself lying
wedged in between a mare and her young foal lying side by side close
together. There too was the wild man, coiled up like a sleeping dog, his
head pillowed on the foal's neck, and the hair of his great shaggy beard
thrown like a blanket over Martin.
He very soon grew accustomed to the new strange manner of life, and even
liked it. Those big, noble-looking wild horses, with their shining
coats, brown and bay and black and sorrel and chestnut, and their black
manes and tails that swept the grass when they moved, were so friendly
to him that he could not help loving them. As he went about among them
when they grazed, every horse he approached would raise his head and
touch his face and arms with his nose. "O you dear horse!" Martin would
exclaim, rubbing the warm, velvet-soft, sensitive nose with his hand.
[Illustration: THEN THE WILD MAN, CATCHING MARTIN UP, LEAPED UPON THE
BACK OF ONE OF THE HORSES.]
He soon discovered that they were just as fond of play as he was, and
that he too was to take part in their games. Having fed as long as they
wanted that morning, they all at once began to gather together,
coming at a gallop, neighing shrilly; then the wild man, catching Martin
up, leaped upon the back of one of the horses, and away went the whole
troop at a furious pace to the great open dry plain, where Martin had
met with them on the previous day. Now it was very terrifying for him at
first to be in the midst of that flying crowd, as the animals went
tearing over the plain, which seemed to shake beneath their thundering
hoofs, while their human leader cheered them on with his shrill,
repeated cries. But in a little while he too caught the excitement, and,
losing all his fear, was as wildly happy as the others, crying out at
the top of his voice in imitation of the wild man.
After an hour's run they returned to the valley, and then Martin,
without being compelled to do so, rolled about on the grass, and went
after the young foals when they came out to challenge one another to a
game. He tried to do as they did, prancing and throwing up his heels and
snorting, but when they ran from him they soon left him hopelessly
behind. Meanwhile the wild man kept watch over him, feeding him with
mare's milk, and inviting him from time to time to smell and taste the
tender grass. Best of all was, when they went for another run in the
evening, and when Martin was no longer held with a tight grip against
the man's side, but was taught or allowed to hold on, clinging with his
legs to the man's body and clasping him round the neck with his arms,
his fingers tightly holding on to the great shaggy beard.
Three days passed in this way, and if his time had been much longer with
the wild horses he would have become one of the troop, and would perhaps
have eaten grass too, and forgotten his human speech, or that he was a
little boy born to a very different kind of life. But it was not to be,
and in the end he was separated from the troop by accident.
At the end of the third day, when the sun was setting, and all the
horses were scattered about in the valley, quietly grazing, something
disturbed them. It might have been a sight or sound of some feared
object, or perhaps the wind had brought the smell of their enemies and
hunters from a great distance to their nostrils. Suddenly they were all
in a wild commotion, galloping from all sides toward their leader, and
he, picking Martin up, was quickly on a horse, and off they went full
speed, but not towards the plain where they were accustomed to go for
their runs. Now they fled in the opposite direction down to the river:
into it they went, into that wide, deep, dangerous current, leaping from
the bank, each horse, as he fell into the water with a tremendous
splash, disappearing from sight; but in another moment the head and
upper part of the neck was seen to rise above the surface, until the
whole lot were in, and appeared to Martin like a troop of horses' heads
swimming without bodies over the river. He, clinging to the neck and
beard of the wild man, had the upper half of his body out of the cold,
rushing water, and in this way they all got safely across and up the
opposite bank. No sooner were they out, than, without even pausing to
shake the water from their skins, they set off at full speed across the
valley towards the distant hills. Now on this side, at a distance of a
mile or so from the river, there were vast reed-beds standing on low
land, dried to a hard crust by the summer heat, and right into the reeds
the horses rushed and struggled to force their way through. The reeds
were dead and dry, so tall that they rose high above the horses' heads,
and growing so close together that it was hard to struggle through them.
Then when they were in the midst of this difficult place, the dry crust
that covered the low ground began to yield to the heavy hoofs, and the
horses, sinking to their knees, were thrown down and plunged about in
the most desperate way, and in the midst of this confusion Martin was
struck and thrown from his place, falling amongst the reeds. Luckily he
was not trampled upon, but he was left behind, and then what a dreadful
situation was his, when the whole troop had at last succeeded in
fighting their way through, and had gone away leaving him in that dark,
solitary place! He listened until the sound of heavy hoofs and the long
cries of the man had died away in the distance; then the silence and
darkness terrified him, and he struggled to get out, but the reeds grew
so close together that before he had pushed a dozen yards through them
he sank down, unable to do more.
The air was hot and close and still down there on the ground, but by
leaning his head back, and staring straight up he could see the pale
night sky sprinkled with stars in the openings between the dry leaves
and spikes of the reeds. Poor Martin could do nothing but gaze up at the
little he could see of the sky in that close, black place, until his
neck ached with the strain; but at last, to make him hope, he heard a
sound--the now familiar long shrill cry of the wild man. Then, as it
came nearer, the sound of tramping hoofs and neighing of the horses was
heard, and the cries and hoof-beats grew louder and then fainter in
turns, and sounded now on this side, now on that, and he knew that they
were looking for him. "I'm here, I'm here," he cried; "oh, dear horses,
come and take me away!" But they could not hear him, and at last the
sound of their neighing and the wild long cries died away altogether,
and Martin was left alone in that black silent place.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_Chapter Eleven_
_The Lady of the Hills_
No escape was possible for poor little Martin so long as it was dark,
and there he had to stay all night, but morning brought him comfort; for
now he could see the reed-stems that hemmed him in all round, and by
using his hands to bend them from him on either side he could push
through them. By-and-by the sunlight touched the tops of the tall
plants, and working his way towards the side from which the light came
he soon made his escape from that prison, and came into a place where he
could walk without trouble, and could see the earth and sky again.
Further on, in a grassy part of the valley, he found some sweet roots
which greatly refreshed him, and at last, leaving the valley, he came
out on a high grassy plain, and saw the hills before him looking very
much nearer than he had ever seen them look before. Up till now they
had appeared like masses of dark blue banked up cloud resting on the
earth, now he could see that they were indeed stone--blue stone piled up
in huge cliffs and crags high above the green world; he could see the
roughness of the heaped up rocks, the fissures and crevices in the sides
of the hills, and here and there the patches of green colour where trees
and bushes had taken root. How wonderful it seemed to Martin that
evening standing there in the wide green plain, the level sun at his
back shining on his naked body, making him look like a statue of a small
boy carved in whitest marble or alabaster. Then, to make the sight he
gazed on still more enchanting, just as the sun went down the colour of
the hills changed from stone blue to a purple that was like the purple
of ripe plums and grapes, only more beautiful and bright. In a few
minutes the purple colour faded away and the hills grew shadowy and
dark. It was too late in the day, and he was too tired to walk further.
He was very hungry and thirsty too, and so when he had found a few small
white partridge-berries and had made a poor supper on them, he gathered
some dry grass into a little heap, and lying down in it, was soon in a
sound sleep.
It was not until the late afternoon next day that Martin at last got to
the foot of the hill, or mountain, and looking up he saw it like a great
wall of stone above him, with trees and bushes and trailing vines
growing out of the crevices and on the narrow ledges of the rock. Going
some distance he came to a place where he could ascend, and here he
began slowly walking upwards. At first he could hardly contain his
delight where everything looked new and strange, and here he found some
very beautiful flowers; but as he toiled on he grew more tired and
hungry at every step, and then, to make matters worse, his legs began to
pain so that he could hardly lift them. It was a curious pain which he
had never felt in his sturdy little legs before in all his wanderings.
Then a cloud came over the sun, and a sharp wind sprang up that made him
shiver with cold: then followed a shower of rain; and now Martin,
feeling sore and miserable, crept into a cavity beneath a pile of
overhanging rocks for shelter. He was out of the rain there, but the
wind blew in on him until it made his teeth chatter with cold. He began
to think of his mother, and of all the comforts of his lost home--the
bread and milk when he was hungry, the warm clothing, and the soft
little bed with its snowy white coverlid in which he had slept so
sweetly every night.
"O mother, mother!" he cried, but his mother was too far off to hear his
piteous cry.
When the shower was over he crept out of his shelter again, and with his
little feet already bleeding from the sharp rocks, tried to climb on. In
one spot he found some small, creeping, myrtle plants covered with ripe
white berries, and although they had a very pungent taste he ate his
fill of them, he was so very hungry. Then feeling that he could climb no
higher, he began to look round for a dry, sheltered spot to pass the
night in. In a little while he came to a great, smooth, flat stone that
looked like a floor in a room, and was about forty yards wide: nothing
grew on it except some small tufts of grey lichen; but on the further
side, at the foot of a steep, rocky precipice, there was a thick bed of
tall green and yellow ferns, and among the ferns he hoped to find a
place to lie down in. Very slowly he limped across the open space,
crying with the pain he felt at every step; but when he reached the bed
of ferns he all at once saw, sitting among the tall fronds on a stone, a
strange-looking woman in a green dress, who was gazing very steadily at
him with eyes full of love and compassion. At her side there crouched a
big yellow beast, covered all over with black, eye-like spots, with a
big round head, and looking just like a cat, but a hundred times larger
than the biggest cat he had ever seen. The animal rose up with a low
sound like a growl, and glared at Martin with its wide, yellow, fiery
eyes, which so terrified him that he dared not move another step until
the woman, speaking very gently to him, told him not to fear. She
caressed the great beast, making him lie down again; then coming forward
and taking Martin by the hand, she drew him up to her knees.
"What is your name, poor little suffering child?" she asked, bending
down to him, and speaking softly.
"Martin--what's yours?" he returned, still half sobbing, and rubbing his
eyes with his little fists.
"I am called the Lady of the Hills, and I live here alone in the
mountain. Tell me, why do you cry, Martin?"
"Because I'm so cold, and--and my legs hurt so, and--and because I want
to go back to my mother. She's over there," said he, with another sob,
pointing vaguely to the great plain beneath their feet, extending far,
far away into the blue distance, where the crimson sun was now setting.
"I will be your mother, and you shall live with me here on the
mountain," she said, caressing his little cold hands with hers. "Will
you call me mother?"
"You are _not_ my mother," he returned warmly. "I don't want to call you
mother."
"When I love you so much, dear child?" she pleaded, bending down until
her lips were close to his averted face.
"How that great spotted cat stares at me!" he suddenly said. "Do you
think it will kill me?"
"No, no, he only wants to play with you. Will you not even look at me,
Martin?"