ON our way back to the village the Doctor began discussing natural
history with Long Arrow. But their most interesting talk, mainly about
plants, had hardly begun when an Indian runner came dashing up to us
with a message.
Long Arrow listened gravely to the breathless, babbled words, then
turned to the Doctor and said in eagle tongue,
“Great White Man, an evil thing has befallen the Popsipetels. Our
neighbors to the southward, the thievish Bag-jagderags, who for so long
have cast envious eyes on our stores of ripe corn, have gone upon the
war-path; and even now are advancing to attack us.”
“Evil news indeed,” said the Doctor. “Yet let us not judge harshly.
Perhaps it is that they are desperate for food, having their own crops
frost-killed before harvest. For are they not even nearer the cold
South than you?”
“Make no excuses for any man of the tribe of the Bag-jagderags,” said
Long Arrow shaking his head. “They are an idle shiftless race. They do
but see a chance to get corn without the labor of husbandry. If it
were not that they are a much bigger tribe and hope to defeat their
neighbor by sheer force of numbers, they would not have dared to make
open war upon the brave Popsipetels.”
When we reached the village we found it in a great state of excitement.
Everywhere men were seen putting their bows in order, sharpening
spears, grinding battle-axes and making arrows by the hundred. Women
were raising a high fence of bamboo poles all round the village. Scouts
and messengers kept coming and going, bringing news of the movements of
the enemy. While high up in the trees and hills about the village we
could see look-outs watching the mountains to the southward.
Long Arrow brought another Indian, short but enormously broad, and
introduced him to the Doctor as Big Teeth, the chief warrior of the
Popsipetels.
The Doctor volunteered to go and see the enemy and try to argue the
matter out peacefully with them instead of fighting; for war, he said,
was at best a stupid wasteful business. But the two shook their heads.
Such a plan was hopeless, they said. In the last war when they had sent
a messenger to do peaceful arguing, the enemy had merely hit him with
an ax.
While the Doctor was asking Big Teeth how he meant to defend the
village against attack, a cry of alarm was raised by the look-outs.
“They’re coming!—The Bag-jagderags—swarming down the mountains in
thousands!”
“Well,” said the Doctor, “it’s all in the day’s work, I suppose. I
don’t believe in war; but if the village is attacked we must help
defend it.”
And he picked up a club from the ground and tried the heft of it
against a stone.
“This,” he said, “seems like a pretty good tool to me.” And he walked
to the bamboo fence and took his place among the other waiting fighters.
Then we all got hold of some kind of weapon with which to help our
friends, the gallant Popsipetels: I borrowed a bow and a quiver full of
arrows; Jip was content to rely upon his old, but still strong teeth;
Chee-Chee took a bag of rocks and climbed a palm where he could throw
them down upon the enemies’ heads; and Bumpo marched after the Doctor
to the fence armed with a young tree in one hand and a door-post in the
other.
When the enemy drew near enough to be seen from where we stood we all
gasped with astonishment. The hillsides were actually covered with
them—thousands upon thousands. They made our small army within the
village look like a mere handful.
“Saints alive!” muttered Polynesia, “our little lot will stand no
chance against that swarm. This will never do. I’m going off to get
some help.”
Where she was going and what kind of help she meant to get, I had no
idea. She just disappeared from my side. But Jip, who had heard her,
poked his nose between the bamboo bars of the fence to get a better
view of the enemy and said,
“Likely enough she’s gone after the Black Parrots. Let’s hope she
finds them in time. Just look at those ugly ruffians climbing down the
rocks—millions of ’em! This fight’s going to keep us all hopping.”
And Jip was right. Before a quarter of an hour had gone by our
village was completely surrounded by one huge mob of yelling, raging
Bag-jagderags.
I now come again to a part in the story of our voyages where things
happened so quickly, one upon the other, that looking backwards I see
the picture only in a confused kind of way. I know that if it had not
been for the Terrible Three—as they came afterwards to be fondly called
in Popsipetel history—Long Arrow, Bumpo and the Doctor, the war would
have been soon over and the whole island would have belonged to the
worthless Bag-jagderags. But the Englishman, the African and the Indian
were a regiment in themselves; and between them they made that village
a dangerous place for any man to try to enter.
The bamboo fencing which had been hastily set up around the town was
not a very strong affair; and right from the start it gave way in
one place after another as the enemy thronged and crowded against it.
Then the Doctor, Long Arrow and Bumpo would hurry to the weak spot, a
terrific hand-to-hand fight would take place and the enemy be thrown
out. But almost instantly a cry of alarm would come from some other
part of the village-wall; and the Three would have to rush off and do
the same thing all over again.
[Illustration: The Terrible Three
_From an Indian rock-engraving found on Hawks’-Head Mountain,
Spidermonkey Island_]
The Popsipetels were themselves no mean fighters; but the strength and
weight of those three men of different lands and colors, standing close
together, swinging their enormous war-clubs, was really a sight for the
wonder and admiration of any one.
Many weeks later when I was passing an Indian camp-fire at night I
heard this song being sung. It has since become one of the traditional
folksongs of the Popsipetels.