THE EMPEROR CHOO HOO.
When he woke next morning, Bevis quite forgot what the squirrel had told
him; he jumped out of bed without thinking, and his right foot touched
the floor first, and led him to the window. From the window he saw the
brook, and recollected that the brook had promised to tell him what he
was singing, so as soon as ever he could get out of doors away he went
through the gateway the grasshopper had shown him, and down to the
hatch. Instead of coming quietly on tip-toe, as the brook had told him,
he danced up, and the kingfisher heard him, and went off as before,
whistling: "Weep, weep". Bevis stood on the brink and said: "Brook,
Brook, what are you singing? You promised to tell me what you were
saying."
The brook did not answer, but went on singing. Bevis listened a minute,
and then he picked a willow leaf and threw it into the bubbles, and
watched it go whirling round and round in the eddies, and back up under
the fall, where it dived down, and presently came up again, and the
stream took it and carried it away past the flags. "Brook, Brook," said
Bevis, stamping his foot, "tell me what you are singing."
And the brook, having now finished that part of his song, said: "Bevis
dear, sit down in the shadow of the willow, for it is very hot to-day,
and the reapers are at work; sit down under the willow, and I will tell
you as much as I can remember."
"But the reed said you could not remember anything," said Bevis, leaning
back against the willow.
"The reed did not tell you the truth, dear; indeed, he does not know
all; the fact is, the reeds are so fond of talking that I scarcely ever
answer them now, or they would keep on all day long, and I should never
hear the sound of my own voice, which I like best. So I do not encourage
them, and that is why the reeds think I do not recollect."
"And what is that you sing about?" said Bevis, impatiently.
"My darling," said the brook, "I do not know myself always what I am
singing about. I am so happy I sing, sing, and never think about what it
means; it does not matter what you mean as long as you sing. Sometimes I
sing about the sun, who loves me dearly, and tries all day to get at me
through the leaves and the green flags that hide me; he sparkles on me
everywhere he can, and does not like me to be in the shadow. Sometimes I
sing to the wind, who loves me next most dearly, and will come to me
everywhere, in places where the sun cannot get. He plays with me
whenever he can, and strokes me softly, and tells me the things he has
heard in the woods and on the hills, and sends down the leaves to float
along, for he knows I like something to carry. Fling me in some leaves,
Bevis dear.
"Sometimes I sing to the earth and the grass; they are fond of me too,
and listen the best of all. I sing loudest at night, to the stars, for
they are so far away they would not otherwise hear me."
"But what do you say?" said Bevis; but the brook was too occupied now to
heed him, and went on.
"Sometimes I sing to the trees; they, too, are fond of me, and come as
near as they can; they would all come down close to me if they could.
They love me like the rest, because I am so happy, and never cease my
chanting. If I am broken to pieces against a stone, I do not mind in the
least; I laugh just the same, and even louder. When I come over the
hatch, I dash myself to fragments; and sometimes a rainbow comes and
stays a little while with me. The trees drink me, and the grass drinks
me, the birds come down and drink me; they splash me, and are happy. The
fishes swim about, and some of them hide in deep corners. Round the bend
I go, and the osiers say they never have enough of me. The long grass
waves and welcomes me; the moor-hens float with me; the kingfisher is
always with me somewhere, and sits on the bough to see his ruddy breast
in the water. And you come too, Bevis, now and then to listen to me; and
it is all because I am so happy."
"Why are you so happy?" said Bevis.
"I do not know," said the brook. "Perhaps it is because all I think of
is this minute; I do not know anything about the minute just gone by,
and I do not care one bit about the minute that is just coming; all I
care about is this minute, this very minute now. Fling me in some more
leaves, Bevis. Why do you go about asking questions, dear? Why don't you
sing, and do nothing else?"
"Oh, but I want to know all about everything," said Bevis. "Where did
you come from, and where are you going, and why don't you go on and let
the ground be dry--why don't you run on, and run all away? Why are you
always here?"
The brook laughed, and said: "My dear, I do not know where I came from,
and I do not care at all where I am going. What does it matter, my love?
All I know is I shall come back again; yes, I shall come back again."
The brook sang very low, and rather sadly now: "I shall go into the sea,
and shall be lost; and even you would not know me--ask your father,
love, he has sailed over the sea in the ships that come to Southampton,
and I was close to him, but he did not know me. But by-and-by, when I am
in the sea, the sun will lift me up, and the clouds will float
along--look towards the hills, Bevis dear, every morning, and you will
see the clouds coming and bringing me with them; and the rain and the
dew, and sometimes the thunder and the lightning, will put me down
again, and I shall run along here and sing to you, my sweet, if you will
come and listen. Fling in some little twigs, my dear, and some bits of
bark from the tree."
Then the brook sang very low and very sad, and said: "I shall come back
again, Bevis; I always come back, and I am always happy; and yet I do
not know either if I am really happy when I am singing so joyously.
Bevis dear, try and think and tell me. Am I really happy, Bevis? Tell
me, dear; you can see the sun sparkling on me, and the wind stroking me,
just as he strokes your hair (he told me he was very fond of you, and
meant to tell you a story some day), and the reeds whispering, and the
willows drooping over me, and the bright kingfisher; you can hear me
singing, Bevis, now am I happy?"
"I do not know," said Bevis; "sometimes you sound very happy, but just
now you sound very sad. Stop a little while and think about it."
"Oh, no, Bevis; I cannot stop, I must keep running. Nothing can stop,
dear: the trees cannot stop growing, they must keep on growing till they
die; and then they cannot stop decaying, till they are all quite gone;
but they come back again. Nor can you stop, Bevis dear."
"I will stop," said Bevis.
"You cannot," said the brook.
"But I will."
"You cannot. You are a very clever boy, Bevis, but you cannot stop; nor
can your papa, nor anybody, you must keep on. Let me see, let me think.
I remember, I have seen you before; it was so many, many thousand years
ago, but I am almost sure it was you. Now I begin to think about it, I
believe I have seen you two or three times, Bevis; but it was before the
hippopotamus used to come and splash about in me. I cannot be quite
certain, for it is a long time to remember your face, dear."
"I do not believe it," said Bevis; "you are babbling, Brook. My mamma
says you babble--it is because you are so old. I am sure I was not born
then."
"Yes, you were, dear; and I daresay you will come back again, when all
the hills are changed and the roads are covered with woods, and the
houses gone. I daresay you will come back again and splash in me, like
the blackbirds."
"Now you are talking nonsense, you silly Brook," said Bevis; "the hills
will never change, and the roads will always be here, and the houses
will not be gone: but why are you sighing, you dear old Brook?"
"I am sighing, my love, because I remember."
"What do you remember?"
"I remember before the hills were like they are now; I remember when I
was a broad deep river; I remember the stars that used to shine in me,
and they are all gone, you cannot see them now, Bevis ('Pooh,' said
Bevis); I remember the stories the lions used to tell me when they came
down to drink; I remember the people dancing on the grass by me, and
sing, singing; they used to sing like me, Bevis, without knowing what it
was they sung, and without any words (not stupid songs, Bevis, like your
people sing now), but I understood them very well. I cannot understand
the songs the folk sing now, the folk that live now have gone away so
far from me."
"What nonsense you say, old Brook; why, we live quite close, and the
waggons go over your bridge every day."
"I remember (the brook took no notice, but went on), I remember them
very well, and they loved me dearly too; they had boats, Bevis, made out
of trees, and they floated about on me."
"I will have a boat," said Bevis, "and float about on you."
"And they played music, which was just like my singing, and they were
very happy, because, as I told you about myself, they did not think
about the minute that was coming, or the minute that had gone by, they
only thought about this minute."
"How long was that ago?" said Bevis.
"Oh," said the brook, "I daresay your papa would tell you it was
thousands upon thousands of years, but that is not true, dear; it was
only a second or two since."
"I shall not stay to listen much longer, silly Brook, if you talk like
that; why, it must be longer than that, or I should have seen it."
"My dear," said the brook, "that which has gone by, whether it happened
a second since, or a thousand thousand years since, is just the same;
there is no real division betwixt you and the past. You people who live
now have made up all sorts of stupid, very stupid stories, dear; I hope
you will not believe them; they tell you about time and all that. Now
there is no such thing as time, Bevis my love; there never was any time,
and there never will be; the sun laughs at it, even when he marks it on
the sun-dial. Yesterday was just a second ago, and so was ten thousand
years since, and there is nothing between you and then; there is no wall
between you and then--nothing at all, dear,"--and the brook sang so low
and thoughtfully that Bevis could not catch what he said, but the tune
was so sweet, and soft, and sad that it made him keep quite still. While
he was listening the kingfisher came back and perched on the hatch, and
Bevis saw his ruddy neck and his blue wings.
"There is nothing between you and then," the brook began again, "nothing
at all, dear; only some stories which are not true; if you will not
believe me, look at the sun, but you cannot look at the sun, darling; it
shines so bright. It shines just the same, as bright and beautiful; and
the wind blows as sweet as ever, and I sparkle and sing just the same,
and you may drink me if you like; and the grass is just as green; and
the stars shine at night. Oh, yes, Bevis dear, _we_ are all here just
the same, my love, and all things are as bright and beautiful as ten
thousand times ten thousand years ago, which is no longer since than a
second.
"But your people have gone away from us--that is their own fault. I
cannot think why they should do so; they have gone away from us, and
they are no longer happy, Bevis; they cannot understand our songs--they
sing stupid songs they have made up themselves, and which they did not
learn of us, and then because they are not happy, they say: 'The world
is growing old'. But it is not true, Bevis, the world is not old, it is
as young as ever it was. Fling me a leaf--and now another. Do not you
forget me, Bevis; come and see me now and then, and throw twigs to me
and splash me."
"That I will," said Bevis; and he picked up a stone and flung it into
the water with such a splash that the kingfisher flew away, but the
brook only laughed, and told him to throw another, and to make haste and
eat the peck of salt, and grow bigger and jump over him. "That I will,"
said Bevis, "I am very hungry now--good-morning, I am going home to
dinner."
"Good-morning, dear," said the brook, "you will always find me here when
you want to hear a song." Bevis went home to dinner humming the tune the
brook had taught him, and by-and-by, when the hot sun had begun to sink
a little, he started again for the copse, and as before the dragon-fly
met him, and led him to the timber, and from there to the raspberries.
The squirrel was waiting for him on a bough of the oak, and while Bevis
picked the fruit that had ripened since yesterday, told him the news the
peewits had brought about the great rebel Choo Hoo. A party of the
peewits, who had been watching ever so far away, thought they saw a stir
and a movement in the woods; and presently out came one of the captains
of the wood-pigeons with two hundred of his soldiers, and they flew over
the border into King Kapchack's country and began to forage in one of
his wheat-fields, where the corn was ripe. When they saw this, the
peewits held a council on the hill, and they sent a messenger to
Kapchack with the news. While they were waiting for him to return, some
of the wood-pigeons, having foraged enough, went home to the woods, so
that there was not much more than half of them left.
Seeing this--for his soldiers who were wheeling about in the air came
and told him--the captain of the peewits thought: "Now is my time! This
is a most lucky and fortunate circumstance, and I can now win the high
approval of King Kapchack, and obtain promotion. The captain of the
wood-pigeons has no idea how many of us are watching his proceedings,
for I have kept my peewits behind the cover of the hill so that he could
not count them, and he has allowed half of the wood-pigeons to go home.
We will rush down upon the rest, and so win an easy victory."
So saying he flew up, and all the peewits followed him in the
expectation of an easy conquest. But, just as they were descending upon
the wheat-field, up flew the wood-pigeons with such a terrible clangour
of their strong wings, and facing towards them, showed such a
determination to fight to the last breath, that the peewits, who were
never very celebrated for their courage, turned tail, and began to
retreat.
They would still have reached the hills in good order, and would have
suffered no great disgrace (for they were but a small party, and not so
numerous as the wood-pigeons), but in the midst of these manoeuvres,
the lieutenant of the pigeons, who had gone home with those who had done
foraging, flew out from the wood with his men, and tried by a flank
movement to cut off the peewits' retreat. At this they were so alarmed
they separated and broke up their ranks, each flying to save himself as
best he might. Nor did they stop till long after the wood-pigeons, being
cautious and under complete control, had ceased to pursue; not till they
had flown back two or three miles into the fastnesses of Kapchack's
hills. Then some of them, collecting again, held a hurried council, and
sent off messengers with the news of this affray.
About the same time, it happened that a missel-thrush arrived at the
court, a son of the favourite missel-thrush, the only bird whom Kapchack
(and the farmer) allowed to build in the orchard. The missel-thrush had
just travelled through part of the country which once belonged to
Kapchack, but which Choo Hoo had over-run the year before, and he
brought Kapchack such a terrible account of the mighty armies that he
saw assembling, that the king was beside himself with terror. Next came
a crow, one of Kauc's warriors, who had been that way, and he said that
two captains of the wood-pigeons, hearing of the peewits' defeat, had
already, and without staying for instructions from Choo Hoo, entered the
country and taken possession of a copse on the slope of the hill from
which the peewits had descended.
"And," said the squirrel, as Bevis, having eaten all the raspberries,
came and sat down on the moss under the oak, "the upshot of it is that
King Kapchack has called a general council of war, which is to be held
almost directly at the owl's castle, in the pollard hard by. For you
must understand that the farmer who lives near Kapchack's palace is so
fierce, he will not let any of the large birds (except the favourite
missel-thrush) enter the orchard, and therefore Kapchack has to hold
these great councils in the copse. What will be the result I cannot
think, and I am not without serious apprehensions myself, for I have
hitherto held undisputed possession of this domain. But Choo Hoo is so
despotic, and has such an immense army at his back, that I am not at all
certain he will respect my neutrality. As for Kapchack, he shivers in
his claws at the very name of the mighty rebel."
"Why does Choo Hoo want King Kapchack's country?" said Bevis. "Why
cannot he stop where he is?"
"There is no reason, dear; but you know that all the birds and animals
would like to be king if they could, and when Choo Hoo found that the
wood-pigeons (for he was nothing but an adventurer at first, without any
title or property except the ancestral ash) were growing so numerous
that the woods would hardly hold them, and were continually being
increased both by their own populousness and by the arrival of fresh
bands, it occurred to him that this enormous horde of people, if they
could only be persuaded to follow him, could easily over-run the entire
country. Hitherto, it was true, they had been easily kept in subjection,
notwithstanding their immense numbers, first, because they had no
leaders among them, nor even any nobles or rich people to govern their
movements and tell them what to do; and next, because they were
barbarians, and totally destitute of art or refinement, knowledge, or
science, neither had they any skill in diplomacy or politics, but were
utterly outside the civilised nations.
"Even their language, as you yourself have heard, is very contracted and
poor, without inflection or expression, being nothing but the repetition
of the same sounds, by which means--that is simply by the number and the
depth of hollowness of the same monosyllables--they convey their wishes
to each other. It is, indeed, wonderful how they can do so, and our
learned men, from this circumstance, have held that the language of the
wood-pigeon is the most difficult to acquire, so much so that it is
scarce possible for one who has not been born among the barbarians to
attain to any facility in the use of these gutturals. This is the reason
why little or no intercourse has ever taken place between us who are
civilised and these hordes; that which has gone on has been entirely
conducted by the aid of interpreters, being those few wood-pigeons who
have come away from the main body, and dwell peaceably in our midst.
"Now, Choo Hoo, as I said, being an adventurer, with no more property
than the ancestral ash, but a pigeon of very extraordinary genius,
considered within himself that if any one could but persuade these
mighty and incredible myriads to follow him he could over-run the entire
country. The very absence of any nobles or rich pigeons among them would
make his sway the more absolute if he once got power, for there would
be none to dispute it, or to put any check upon him. Ignorant and
barbarous as they were, the common pigeons would worship such a captain
as a hero and a demi-god, and would fly to certain destruction in
obedience to his orders.
"He was the more encouraged to the enterprise because it was on record
that in olden times great bodies of pigeons had passed across the
country sweeping everything before them. Nothing could resist their
onward march, and it is owing to these barbarian invasions that so many
of our most precious chronicles have been destroyed, and our early
history, Bevis dear, involved in obscurity. Their dominion--destructive
as it was--had, however, always passed away as rapidly as it arose, on
account of the lack of cohesion in their countless armies. They marched
without a leader, and without order, obeying for a time a common
impulse; when that impulse ceased they retired tumultuously, suffering
grievous losses from the armies which gathered behind and hung upon
their rear. Their bones whitened the fields, and the sun, it is said,
was darkened at noonday by their hastening crowds fleeing in dense
columns, and struck down as they fled by hawks and crows.
"Had they possessed a leader in whom they felt confidence the result
might have been very different; indeed, our wisest historians express no
doubt that civilisation must have been entirely extinguished, and these
lovely fields and delicious woods have been wholly occupied by the
barbarians. Fortunately it was not so. But, as I said, Choo Hoo,
retiring to the top of a lofty fir-tree, and filled with these ideas,
surveyed from thence the masses of his countrymen returning to the woods
to roost as the sun declined, and resolved to lose no time in
endeavouring to win them to his will, and to persuade them to embark
upon the extraordinary enterprise which he had conceived.
"Without delay he proceeded to promulgate his plans, flying from tribe
to tribe, and from flock to flock, ceaselessly proclaiming that the
kingdom was the wood-pigeons' by right, by reason of their numbers, and
because of the wickedness of Kapchack and his court, which wickedness
was notorious, and must end in disaster. As you may imagine, he met with
little or no response--for the most part the pigeons, being of a stolid
nature, went on with their feeding and talking, and took no notice
whatever of his orations. After a while the elder ones, indeed, began to
say to each other that this agitator had better be put down and debarred
from freedom of speech, for such seditious language must ultimately be
reported to Kapchack, who would send his body-guards of hawks among them
and exact a sanguinary vengeance.
"Finding himself in danger, Choo Hoo, not one whit abashed, instead of
fleeing, came before the elders and openly reproached them with
misgovernment, cowardice, and the concealment or loss of certain ancient
prophecies, which foretold the future power of the wood-pigeons, and
which he accused them of holding back out of jealousy, lest they should
lose the miserable petty authority they enjoyed on account of their age.
Now, whether there were really any such prophecies, I cannot tell you,
or whether it was one of Choo Hoo's clever artifices, it is a moot point
among our most learned antiquaries; the owl, who has the best means of
information, told me once that he believed there was some ground for the
assertion.
"At any rate it suited Choo Hoo's purpose very well; for although the
elders and the heads of the tribes forthwith proceeded to subject him to
every species of persecution, and attacked him so violently that he lost
nearly all his feathers, the common pigeons sympathised with him, and
hid him from their pursuit. They were the more led to sympathise with
him because, on account of their ever-increasing numbers, the territory
allotted to them by Kapchack was daily becoming less and less suited to
their wants, and, in short, there were some signs of a famine. They,
therefore, looked with longing eyes at the fertile country, teeming with
wheat and acorns around them, and listened with greedy ears to the
tempting prospect so graphically described by Choo Hoo.
"Above all, the young pigeons attached themselves to his fortunes and
followed him everywhere in continually increasing bands, for he promised
them wives in plenty and trees for their nests without number; for all
the trees in their woods were already occupied by the older families,
who would not, moreover, part with their daughters to young pigeons who
had not a branch to roost on. Some say that the fox, who had long been
deeply discontented at the loss of his ancestors' kingdom and of his own
wealth, which he dissipated so carelessly, did not scruple to advise
Choo Hoo how to proceed. Be that as it may, I should be the last to
accuse any one of disloyalty without evident proof; be that as it may,
the stir and commotion grew so great among the wood-pigeons, that
presently the news of it reached King Kapchack.
"His spies, of whom he has so many (the chief of them is Te-te, the
tomtit, of whom I bid you beware), brought him full intelligence of what
was going on. Kapchack lost no time in calling his principal advisers
around him; they met close by here (where the council is to take place
this afternoon), for he well knew the importance of the news. It was not
only, you see, the immense numbers of the wood-pigeons and the
impossibility of resisting their march, were they once set in motion,
but he had to consider that there was a considerable population of
pigeons in our midst who might turn traitors, and he was by no means
sure of the allegiance of various other tribes, who were only held down
by terror.
"The council fully acknowledged the gravity of the situation, and upon
the advice of the hawk it was resolved that Choo Hoo, as the prime mover
of the trouble, and as the only one capable of bringing matters to a
crisis, should be forthwith despatched. But when the executioners
proceeded to seize him he eluded their clutches with the greatest ease;
for his followers (such was their infatuation) devoted their lives to
his, and threw themselves in the way of Kapchack's emissaries, the
hawks, submitting to be torn in pieces rather than see their beloved
hero lose a feather. Thus baffled, the enraged Kapchack next tried to
get him assassinated, but, as before, his friends watched about him with
such solicitude that no one could enter the wood where he slept at night
without their raising such a disturbance that their evil purpose was
defeated.
"In his rage Kapchack ordered a decimation of the wood-pigeons, which I
myself think was a great mistake; but, as I have told you before, I do
not meddle with politics. Still I cannot help thinking that if he had,
instead, of his royal bounty and benevolence, given the wood-pigeons an
increase of territory, seeing how near they sometimes came to a famine,
that they would have been disarmed and their discontent turned to
gratitude; but he ordered in his rage and terror that they should be
decimated, and let loose the whole army of his hawks upon them, so that
the slaughter was awful to behold, and the ground was strewn with their
torn and mangled bodies. Yet they remained faithful to Choo Hoo, and not
one traitor was found among these loyal barbarians.
"But Choo Hoo, deeply distressed in mind, said that he would relieve
them from the burden of his presence rather than thus be the cause of
their sorrow. He therefore left those provinces and flew out of the
country, leaving word behind him that he would never return till he had
seen the raven, and recovered from him those ancient prophecies that had
so long been lost. He flew away, and disappeared in the distance; the
days and weeks passed, but he did not return, and at last Kapchack,
relieved of his apprehensions, recalled his murderous troops, and the
pigeons were left in peace to lament their Choo Hoo.
"A twelvemonth passed, and still Choo Hoo did not come; the people said
he had been called to the happy Forest of the Heroes, and averred that
sometimes they heard his voice calling to them when no one was near.
There was no doubt that he had gone with the raven. The raven, you must
know, my dear Sir Bevis, was once the principal judge and arbiter of
justice amongst us, so much so that he was above kings, and it is
certain that had he been here we should not have had to submit to the
sanguinary tyranny of Kapchack, nor condemned to witness the scandalous
behaviour of his court, or the still greater scandal of his own private
life. But for some reason the raven mysteriously left this country about
a hundred years ago, leaving behind him certain prophecies, some of
which no doubt you have heard, especially that upon his return there
will be no more famine, nor frost, nor slaughter, nor conflict, but we
shall all live together in peace.
"However that may be, the raven has never come back; the learned hold
that he must have died long since, for he was so aged when he went away
no one knew his years, hinting in their disbelief that he went away to
die, and so surround his death with a halo of mystery; but the common
people are quite of a different opinion, and strenuously uphold the
belief that he will some day return. Well, as I told you, a twelvemonth
went by, and Choo Hoo did not come, when suddenly in the spring (when
Kapchack himself was much occupied in his palace, and most of his spies
were busy with their nests, and the matter had almost been forgotten)
Choo Hoo reappeared, bringing with him the most beautiful young bride
that was ever beheld, as he himself was, on the other hand, the
strongest and swiftest of the wood-pigeons.
"When this was known (and the news spread in a minute) the enthusiasm of
the barbarians knew no bounds. Notwithstanding it was nesting-time, they
collected in such vast numbers that the boughs cracked with their
weight; they unanimously proclaimed Choo Hoo emperor (for they disdained
the title of king as not sufficiently exalted), and declared their
intention, as soon as the nesting-time was over, and the proper
season--the autumn--for campaigning arrived, of following him, and
invading the kingdom of Kapchack.
"Choo Hoo told them that, after many months of wandering, he had at last
succeeded in finding the raven; at least he had not seen the raven
himself, but the raven had sent a special messenger, the hawfinch, to
tell him to be of good cheer, and to return to the wood-pigeons, and to
lead them forth against Kapchack, who tottered upon his throne; and that
he (the raven) would send the night-jar, or goat-sucker, with crooked
and evil counsels to confound Kapchack's wisdom. And indeed, Bevis, my
dear, I have myself seen several night-jars about here, and I am rather
inclined to think that there is some truth in this part at least of what
Choo Hoo says; for it is an old proverb, which I daresay you have heard,
that when the gods design the destruction of a monarch they first make
him mad, and what can be more mad than Kapchack's proposed marriage with
the jay, to which he was doubtless instigated by the night-jars, who,
like genii of the air, have been floating in the dusky summer twilight
round about his palace?
"And they have, I really believe, confounded his council and turned his
wisdom to folly; for Kapchack has been so cunning for so many, many
years, and all his family have been so cunning, and all his councillors,
that now I do believe (only I do not meddle with politics) that this
extreme cunning is too clever, and that they will overreach themselves.
However, we shall see what is said at the council by-and-by.
"Choo Hoo, having told the pigeons this, added that he had further been
instructed by the raven to give them a sacred and mystic pass-word and
rallying cry; he did not himself know what it meant; it was, however,
something very powerful, and by it they would be led to victory. So
saying, he called 'Koos-takke!' and at once the vast assembly seized the
signal and responded 'Koos-takke!' which mystic syllables are now their
war-cry, their call of defiance, and their welcome to their friends. You
may often hear them shouting these words in the depths of the woods;
Choo Hoo learnt them in the enchanted Forest of Savernake, where, as
every one knows, there are many mighty magicians, and where, perhaps,
the raven is still living in its deep recesses. Now this war-cry
supplied, as doubtless the raven had foreseen, the very link that was
wanting to bind the immense crowd of wood-pigeons together.
Thenceforward they had a common sign and pass-word, and were no longer
scattered.
"In the autumn Choo Hoo crossed the border with a vast horde, and
although Kapchack sent his generals, who inflicted enormous losses, such
as no other nation but the barbarians could have sustained, nothing
could stay the advance of such incredible numbers. After a whole autumn
and winter of severe and continued fighting, Choo Hoo, early in the next
year, found that he had advanced some ten (and in places fifteen) miles,
giving his people room to feed and move. He had really pushed much
farther than that, but he could not hold all the ground he had taken for
the following reason. In the spring, as the soft warm weather came, and
the sun began to shine, and the rain to fall, and the brook to sing more
sweetly, and the wind to breathe gently with delicious perfume, and the
green leaves to come forth, the barbarians began to feel the influence
of love.
"They could no longer endure to fly in the dense column, they no longer
obeyed the voice of their captain. They fell in love, and each marrying
set about to build a nest, free and unmolested in those trees that Choo
Hoo had promised them. Choo Hoo himself retired with his lovely bride to
the ancestral ash, and passed the summer in happy dalliance. With the
autumn the campaign recommenced, and with exactly the same result. After
a second autumn and winter of fighting, Choo Hoo had pushed his frontier
another fifteen miles farther into Kapchack's kingdom. Another summer of
love followed, and so it went on year after year, Choo Hoo's forces
meantime continually increasing in numbers, since there were now no
restrictions as to nest trees, but one and all could marry.
"Till at last he has under his sway a horde of trained warriors, whose
numbers defy calculation, and he has year by year pushed into Kapchack's
territory till now it seems as if he must utterly overwhelm and destroy
that monarch. This he would doubtless have achieved ere now, but there
is one difficulty which has considerably impeded his advance, as he came
farther and farther from his native province. This difficulty is water.
"For in the winter, when the Long Pond is frozen, and the brook nearly
covered with ice, and all the ponds and ditches likewise, so vast a
horde cannot find enough to satisfy their thirst, and must consequently
disperse. Were it not for this Choo Hoo must ere now have overwhelmed
us. As it is, Kapchack shivers in his claws, and we all dread the
approaching autumn, for Choo Hoo has now approached so near as to be at
our very doors. If he only knew one thing he would have no difficulty
in remaining here and utterly destroying us."
"What is that?" said Bevis.
"Will you promise faithfully not to tell any one?" said the squirrel,
"for my own existence depends upon this horde of barbarians being kept
at bay; for, you see, should they pass over they will devour everything
in the land, and there will certainly be a famine--the most dreadful
that has ever been seen."
"I will promise," said Bevis. "I promise you faithfully."
"Then I will tell you," went on the squirrel. "In this copse of mine
there is a spring of the clearest and sweetest water (you shall see it,
I will take you to it some day) which is a great secret, for it is so
hidden by ferns and fir-trees overhanging it, that no one knows anything
about it, except Kapchack, myself, the weasel, and the fox; I wish the
weasel did not know, for he is so gluttonous for blood, which makes him
thirsty, that he is continually dipping his murderous snout into the
delicious water.
"Now this spring, being so warm in the fern, and coming out of ground
which is, in a manner, warm too, of all the springs in this province
does not freeze, but always runs clear all the winter. If Choo Hoo only
knew it, don't you see, he could stay in Kapchack's country, no matter
how hard the frost, and his enormous army, whose main object is plunder,
would soon starve us altogether. But he does not know of it.
"He has sent several of his spies, the wood-cocks, to search the
country for such a spring, but although they are the most cunning of
birds at that trick, they have not yet succeeded in finding my spring
and thrusting their long bills into it. They dare not come openly, but
fly by night, for Kapchack's hawks are always hovering about; well
enough he knows the importance of this secret, and they would pay for
their temerity with their lives if they were seen. All I am afraid of is
lest the weasel or the fox, in their eagerness for empire, should betray
the secret to Choo Hoo.
"The fox, though full of duplicity, and not to be depended upon, is at
least brave and bold, and so far as I can judge his character would not,
for his own sake (hoping some day to regain the kingdom), let out this
secret. But of the weasel I am not so sure; he is so very wicked, and so
cunning, no one can tell what he may do. Thus it is that in the highest
of my beech trees I do not feel secure, but am in continual fear lest a
wood-cock should steal in, or the weasel play the traitor, for if so a
famine is imminent, and that is why I support, so far as I can without
meddling with politics, the throne of Kapchack, as the last barrier
against this terrible fate.
"Even now could he but be brought to reform his present life something
might be hoped for, for he has a powerful army; but, as you have seen,
this affair with the jay has caused ambitious ideas to spring up in the
minds of his chief courtiers, some of whom (especially, I think, the
crow and the weasel) are capable of destroying a country for their
private and personal advantage. Therefore it is that I look forward to
this council, now about to be held, with intense anxiety, for upon it
will depend our future, the throne of Kapchack, our existence or
destruction. And here comes the rook; the first as usual."