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.