WOLF'S MEAT
Thus far Cator, the attorney's clerk, had proved himself the most
sagacious and quick-witted of our party; though Captain Strogue would
have been amazed and indignant to hear me say so. And now, when we had
rejoined the rest of our little expedition, and all were recruiting the
inner man (or the middle man perhaps he is, body being first, stomach
second, and mind--when found, third portion), that sprig of the law came
up, with a bone between his teeth, and begged the Captain and myself,
who were feeding from the outside tops of our hats, to go a little
further round the elbow of a crag. There he asked us what opinions we
had formed; and when we had taken our seats, we said: "None at all;
except that we are all bamboozled."
"No doubt about that. But how, and why?" He answered with a mysterious
look, which we were inclined to smile at, not having known him long
enough to be sure of his prophetic gifts. "A lot of things have occurred
to me, which may be very absurd of course, and it is not likely that all
are right; but I am pretty sure that some are. Shall I tell you, and
hear what you think of them?" We lit our pipes, and nodded to him, and
smiled at one another.
"To begin with, then, I suspect most strongly that her Majesty, the
Devil's wife, for so she deserves at least to be, has got her brother
under lock and key somewhere, snug enough, and at her mercy, if she owns
such a quality. Did you see what she touched, when she went to gag, and
at the same time to cram, that poor young fellow, whose will she has
crushed out of him by years and years of bullying? Perhaps you could
not see where you stood; and she did not think that I could. But I saw
the tips of her long fingers playing with a key which was in her belt--a
mere household key of course--but enough to remind her unlucky son where
his poor Uncle was, without much chance of ever coming forth, but in his
coffin. And I caught a glance of his which proved that he understood her
meaning, and might soon have the same thing for himself. And then you
saw how he broke down; for he is a very tender-hearted youth."
"By Jove, it sounds uncommonly like it; I was so taken aback," said
Strogue, "at seeing another Prince Hafer in the field, and so different
from my Simon Pure, that I could not notice small things much; and
perhaps it was the same with Cranleigh. There is some abominable villany
at work, and we shall be too late to stop it. I would like to insure
friend Imar's life for ten thousand at five thousand premium. Go on, my
son, thou speakest well."
"Another thing, according to my lights. He is not in that queer old
place at all, Gomorrah Castle, or whatever they call it, although there
are plenty of black holes there, enough to starve a regiment man by man.
No, he is away to the North at present, perhaps on the other side of the
mountains. You saw the big window that faced the North, more like a door
than a window it was. Well, every time her brother was in question, and
especially when she was fingering that key, she gave a quick glance
through that window, very likely without even knowing it. People who
gesticulate much often follow it up in that way. When they speak of a
distant thing, they glance in that direction, if they can see it, or
anything anywhere near it; and there was a great double-peaked mountain
covered with snow, like a white mitre, stuck against the sky in the
North. And if her brother had been in the castle dungeons, she would
have made us go down the front ladder again, instead of getting a wink
of back premises."
"Upon my word, this boy is wide-awake, considering how little he has
seen yet of the world. Cator, like Cato, thou reasonest well. Go ahead,
my son, we hearken thee."
"You see, Captain," said the young man, feeling abashed in the presence
of such renown, and doubtful about some chaff in its palm; "you see, I
should never care to offer you advice. It might be in place with Mr.
Cranleigh here, because he is only a young beginner. But you know what's
what, I should say, ever so much better than I do. But as you tell me to
go on, I will. Her Serene Highness intends to make away with her
twin-brother, on Monday next."
"Come now, come now! I can stand a great deal, Cator. And none of your
butter-Scotch--no, you are a Shropshire man, you say. Whatever you are,
it won't make that go down. Why, Old Moore, and Zadkiel would be nothing
to you."
"Captain, I will tell you what I go by, and then you'll be able to judge
for yourself, whether I talk bunkum, or good sense. I have been in these
parts for a twelvemonth now, and I ought to know something of these
blessed natives. There are no two lots of them quite alike, any more
than two mountains or two valleys are. But there is not a pin to choose
among them in the matter of laziness. Poor beggars, they can scarcely
help that, I dare say, frozen as they are for half the year, and roasted
for the other half. Well, about here the manner is to keep three
holidays, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, just as if they did anything on
the other four days. These Ossets about here have no religion of any
sort worth speaking of. Some call themselves Christians, some
Mahometans, many are simple idolaters; but all are full of superstition,
as such people must be. All they do in the religious way, is to stick to
their fasts and festivals, particularly the festivals. And their great
festival of the year finishes up next Sunday."
"What the deuce has that got to do with it?" Strogue enquired
impatiently, for the sun was beginning to slope along the valley, and we
had ten miles to go to the next covered place.
"Everything, if you will hear me out. That festival goes on for three
weeks; and during that time it is not lawful to follow up even the
blood-feud. But on Monday, it will be the proper thing to stick and stab
all who are waiting for it. And what makes me think that this little
game is on, according to institution, is that we have not seen a living
soul, except an old woman and a child or two, in the miserable villages
we have come by. Why? For the very simple reason that every noble savage
who can swing a dagger is off for this great act of faith on Monday; to
see the death of the head of the clan avenged."
"I won't believe a word of it," I exclaimed, meaning no rudeness of
course to Cator, but scouting the possibility of such fiendish
abominations, after all I had heard of the great man's lofty hopes and
pure ideals.
"To me it seems likely enough," said Strogue. "I have been among fellows
who would eat their mothers, and serve up their own babies for a
garnish. We have none of that sort to deal with here; and the men of
these mountains, taking them all round, are an indolent rather than a
cruel lot. Quarrelsome of course, and hot of blood, but most loyal to
their chiefs, and very generous sometimes. It is the blood-feud that
makes devils of them; but how can they help that? It is their test of
honour, ever since they came out of the Ark with the raven. What we have
got to do is to act exactly as if all our friend Cator suggests were the
fact. Thursday to-day; there is little time to lose, even if we can
catch it up at all. We shall want every son of an emerald of you; and
you must fight like sons of the Emerald Isle. By Jove, what a ripping
turn-up it will be! Right about face, quick march for Kazbek!"
It was all very well for him, and Cator, and the rest to take things
lightly thus. They could not be expected to feel much concern for the
Lesghian Chief, or a Lesghian lady even more adorable. And as for
Strogue his main object was less to rescue Sûr Imar, than to wreak his
own vengeance upon Hafer--that is to say the London Hafer, the one who
had leaped the ivied wall, and shot at me, and robbed the Captain, by
some blackleg's process, of £300.
But I (with my warm affection and deep pity for the father, and
passionate love of the daughter) could see no adventurous joy or fierce
delight in the issue impending. I wanted no revenge, no compensation for
anything done against me. Hafer the genuine, and Hafer the counterfeit,
might settle their claims to the title as they pleased; even that most
malignant and awful woman--if she were as black as she was painted--the
Princess Marva might live her life out, and give the best account of it
when her time came; if only she could be kept from harming her relatives
so innocent. There must be in her motives something more than we could
see. Revenge alone for the loss of a husband, with whom she had lived on
the worst of terms, and who had wronged her on the tenderest
point--that, and the time-worn grievance about the refusal of her
marriage-portion were not enough to drive her to such a horrible and
unnatural deed as--unless we wronged her most shamefully--she was now in
cold blood designing. There must be some other strong motive too, some
great temptation of self-interest, some of that stern, sour stuff which
drives us out of the hive that should be sweet to us.
No man knows what he does or thinks (unless he can keep himself separate
from the thoughts of all around him, which requires a wonderful nature)
when his legs go along with the legs of other men, and he has to swing
his arms accordingly. There was no sort of march among us; for we had
never been even of the Volunteer Force (except myself, and that only
made me critical, without any help in it), and if we had wanted to show
the Caucasus any sense of drill, we could never have done it, even if we
had known how. By order of the rocky way, or of rocks without any way
among them, we could never march two abreast, or even three in file with
decency. All we could do was to get along, and admire one another's
clumsiness.
Then we came to a place with a sudden gap in front, and nothing but the
sky beyond it. A cleft in the crown of a rugged ascent, with spires of
black rocks right and left. And there on the saddle-ridge that we must
pass, a gaunt and wondrous figure arose, whether of man or of beast, and
wavered against the grey mist of the distance, and swayed. Two long
arms, like a gallows out of gear, or a cross that has rotted with its
weight, struck up; and having been severely tried already we were much
at a loss what to make of it. There was good light still, and we were
not to be frightened, as we must have been after sunset; but the
Interpreter being always nervous turned round, and exclaimed: "She has
sent the Devil, the Devil himself, to stop us." While he spoke the long
figure fell down on its knees, and swung its lank arms, like a windmill.
"Hold hard! Don't fire!" Strogue shouted sternly, as some of our men
had brought their guns to bear. "Idiots, it is nothing but a poor lost
man, a fellow without a bit of food inside him. George, let us go and
see what he is up to."
I was ready to go anywhere and do anything in my present state of mind;
and when we came up to him, our poor brother mortal fell upon his face,
and put his hands upon our feet. He muttered some words which we could
not understand, and then he opened his mouth, which was very large, and
pointed down it intelligibly to the slowest comprehension.
"He may be the Devil, but he wants some grub," Strogue shouted back to
our company, who were still looking towards us doubtfully, for people
become superstitious, without intending it, in these wild places. Then
Cator came up, with a barley-cake in one hand and his rifle in the
other. The unfortunate starver took no heed of the weapon in his
extremity, but stretched his shrivelled arm across the muzzle, and tore
the cake from Cator. In a moment it was gone, almost without a munch;
and then he stared at us, with sun-scorched eyes projecting from their
peel like a boiled potato,--and groaned for more, crooking his fingers
like prongs of a rake. We shrank from him so that he might not touch us.
But for the blood he was covered with we should have taken him for a
skeleton; and but for his groans and nakedness we should have passed him
as a scarecrow.
"Don't be in such a hurry, old chap, or you'll do yourself more harm
than good," Strogue suggested reasonably. But even if the other had
understood, it would have made no difference. He spread his face out in
such a manner that there was nothing left but mouth; as a young cuckoo
in a sparrow's nest, when his stepmother cannot satisfy him, squattles
his empty body down, and distends himself into one enormous gape. Then
Tommy Williams came up laughing, with his hat full of broken victuals;
and the Captain, who understood the subject, said: "Not too fast, or
he'll fall to pieces. And pour down a little whiskey to soften it."
When the poor fellow came round a little--and flat enough he had been
before--to our surprise he proved himself an exceedingly brave and
well-intentioned man. In fact, if he had been otherwise we should never
have found him there. A barbarian he appeared at first, but that was
appearance only, and under the stress of misfortune, although he
belonged to a race which is the most barbarous of the Caucasus. When
through our nervous interpreter we began to understand him, we soon
perceived that it was our good luck as well as his own, which had
brought him to us. And much as at first we grudged the time expended in
this humanity, we soon came to see that it had been well spent, even for
our own purposes. After such a fast, and then such feasting (prolonged
in even more than due redress), it would have been most unfair to expect
many words from him prematurely. We clothed him a little, for he was
stark naked,--and so hairy a person I never beheld,--and then we cut the
tight cord knotted round his waist, from which even famine had not freed
him; and then we made a litter--for he could not walk--and carried him
to our night-quarters. Luckily there was no foe in search of us, or that
miserable sufferer's groans and snores must have told our whereabout to
every echo. He surprised us again by an eager call for supper, but none
would we give him, until he had splashed for a quarter of an hour in the
glacier stream. Then we fed him again, and clothed him fairly, and a
decent and reputable man he looked, though going down the vale of years.
And his tale was interpreted as follows.