TUMBU-DOWN
After a while the party started on their way once more feeling greatly
brisked up. But the heat of the day was now upon them, and though the
snow lay close beside the path, the fierce sun melting it made the
vapour rise and turned the narrow valley into a regular steam bath.
The perspiration ran down the travellers' faces and especially down poor
Head-nurse's; for she had insisted on taking off her veil to twist it
turbanwise round Baby Akbar's head since the Royal Umbrella was
forbidden. Foster-mother had tried to take off hers also, but Head-nurse
had angrily forbidden her to do any such thing. If she, Head-nurse, died
of sunstroke what matter, but if Foster-mother failed, what--even though
one back tooth had been gloriously cut--would become of the
Heir-to-Empire, the Admired-of-the-World, the Great-in-Pomp, etc.?
So, to comfort herself she went on mumbling titles as she struggled
along, the sun beating fiercely on her bare head. Such a quaint head,
with sleek black hair parted and plaited and hung with jewels, even down
the long pigtail of brown wool that was added on to the back to make the
hair look more plentiful.
It was a piteous sight and Foster-mother was so conscious of the
devotion it meant that she said "Lo! Head-nurse, thou art a good, good
soul though a hard one to me; but I will never, never, never, forget
this day."
"Nor I," groaned Head-nurse, "but 'tis for the Heir-to-Empire."
It was a full hour before the slope ended in a level bog, on the other
side of which began a visible descent. Then in the angled hills a blue
shadow began to rise, telling of a valley below them.
"Bismillah!" (Thanks be to God) cried Foster-father piously. And every
one echoed the remark except Baby Akbar. He turned round and looked back
at the snowy peaks which were beginning to show behind them.
"Amma, Dadda 'way 'way mountains," he said regretfully and his little
mouth went down as for a cry, when everybody's attention was distracted
by the sudden appearance of a huge furry black dog which came bounding
down the hill side, its big white teeth gleaming as it uttered shrill,
sharp, growling barks.
Head-nurse and Foster-mother shrieked with fright, little Adam ran like
a hare for the shelter of his mother's petticoats, and Meroo the
cook-boy, remembering his bare legs--for like all Indian scullions he
wore short cotton drawers--squatted down where he was standing, in order
to protect them. Even Roy, brave boy that he was, looked uncomfortable,
and both Foster-father and Old Faithful whipped out their swords.
These were not needed, however, for the next instant a wild-looking
figure clad in a brown blanket started up from behind a rock and shouted
to the dog. It stopped instantly, but stood still--snarling, though
obedient.
It was the funniest looking dog you can imagine. Bigger than a big
collie, it was furry all over even to its tail. And it was black as ink.
In fact with its tiny prick ears and small sharp pointed muzzle all lost
in a huge soft black ruff and nothing to be seen but red tongue, white
teeth and beady black eyes, it was a regular golliwog of a dog.
When Foster-father saw the man in the brown blanket, who from his crook
was evidently a shepherd, he heaved a sigh of relief. "Now," he said,
"we shall be able to find out our way."
But he was mistaken. The man did not understand a word they said,
neither could they understand a word he said.
Head-nurse was in despair. "He speaks like a ghost of the desert," she
wept. "We shall all die of starvation before he understands."
"Die?" echoed Foster-father stoutly. "Not so, woman! There is one
language all understand."
Whereupon he placed himself right in front of the shepherd, opened his
mouth wide and then shook his head. Next he pointed to his stomach and
shook his head again. Finally he began to chew violently, rubbed his
stomach and grinned.
The shepherd grinned too and rubbed _his_ stomach, whereupon
Foster-father turned triumphantly to Head-nurse.
"Said I not sooth, woman," he asked. "Hunger hath a tongue of its own,
and all men know it."
Once begun, signs soon brought so much understanding, that, whistling to
his dog, the shepherd started down the hill at a great pace, beckoning
them to follow.
"Not so fast, friend, not so fast!" panted Foster-father, "we be not all
born on a mountain as thou art. And there are women and children, too."
He pointed to poor Head-nurse and Foster-mother, who were indeed
dropping with fatigue, and the man seemed to understand, for he pulled
up. But he had to keep some way off because his dog, who kept close as a
shadow to his master's heels, never ceased growling. So they tramped on
wearily until just below them they saw a _marg_ or mountain upland,
where some goats were grazing. One part of this dipped down into a
little valley, and there, in the shelter of some huge rocks, they saw
two or three small brown blanket tents, such as shepherds use on the
Beluchistan hills. They were just like waggon tilts only not so large.
Here, at any rate, was prospect of food and rest, and the poor
travellers brisked up again. But alas! between them and the tents lay a
formidable obstacle. Nothing less than a birch-twig bridge over a
rushing stream which filled up the bottom of a wide rift or chasm in the
upland. This chasm stretched right across the upland from a steep rock
which blocked up the head of the little valley, and out of which the
stream gushed, and there was no way of crossing it, so the shepherd
explained by signs, except the birch-twig bridge. Now a birch-twig
bridge is a very terrifying thing to anybody who is not accustomed to
them. It is simply a strong flat plait of birch twigs about nine inches
wide which is flung from one side to the other, and which, of course,
droops and sags like a rope in the middle. Into this plait are stuck
every few feet or so cross sticks, and to these sticks a rope is
fastened as a sort of hand rail. Across such a bridge as this the hill
children walk as easily as an English child does over a great brick
span; but Head-nurse resolutely refused to set foot over it herself,
much less to allow the Heir-to-Empire to risk his neck on such an
appallingly dangerous structure. In vain Foster-father, in order to set
a good example, allowed himself to be led over by the shepherd with his
eyes carefully bandaged lest he should get giddy in the middle by
looking down. As a matter of fact, this only made Head-nurse more
frightened, for, of course, the bridge swung and swayed with the weight
of the men on it. She would sooner, she declared, try to climb Heaven on
a rainbow! That was at least steady. Roy tried to hearten her up by
walking over himself with open eyes, though he felt frightfully dizzy
and had to fling himself flat on the grass to recover when he did get
over. Then Meroo, blubbering loudly that he was going to his death for
his young master, climbed up on the shepherd's back and allowed himself
to be carried over just to show how easy it was.
It was all in vain! Head-nurse was firm. They must bring the tents to
the Heir-to-Empire; the Heir-to-Empire should not go across a tight rope
to the tents. And there she would have remained had not a great, tall
burly woman with a fat baby on her hip come out of one of the tents, and
grasping the position, stalked over the bridge without even touching the
hand rail, caught Baby Akbar from Foster-mother, who was too taken aback
to resist, set him on her other hip and calmly stalked back again,
leaving the two women too surprised and horrified even to scream.
But when they saw the Heir-to-Empire safe on the other side, they
consented to be carried across pick-a-back.
So there they were before long eating goats' milk cheese fried like a
beefsteak and drinking long draughts of a sort of sour milk.
One of the shepherds could speak a little Persian, and from him
Foster-father, to his great relief, learned that Prince Askurry's camp
was only a mile or two down the valley, so, feeling certain of being
able to reach it before sundown, he called a halt, and they all lay down
to rest in one of the tents, Baby Akbar between his two nurses for
safety sake. For one could never tell, Head-nurse remarked, what might
happen amongst people who spoke the language of ghosts in the desert,
and kept such strange animals. A great golliwog of a black dog who sat
on one side of the tent like an image, watching them as if he meant to
eat them, and a great fluff of a white cat sitting on the other with her
eyes shut as if she did not want to watch them.
No! Indeed it was impossible to tell what might not happen!
And that is exactly how it turned out. What _really_ did happen no one
knew. It was Foster-mother who, waking first, let loose a shriek while
still half awake. This roused Head-nurse, who let loose another. For
Baby Akbar was no longer between them. The Heir-to-Empire had gone--had
disappeared--was not to be found!
Roy was out of the tent in a second, treading in his haste on Meroo, who
was sleeping outside, and who began to howl confusedly. Old Faithful
fumbled for his sword, Foster-father rubbed his eyes as if _they_ must
be at fault.
But there was no Baby! And what is more, both the black dog and the
white cat had disappeared also; at least they were no longer on the
watch.
Never was there such a commotion. The rocks resounded with cries and
every one searched everywhere; even in the great tall basket panniers in
which hill shepherds carry their goods and chattels.
But not one sign of the little fellow was to be found, until--horribly,
dreadfully, near to that awful birch-twig bridge--Foster-mother seized
on a tiny gold-embroidered skull cap that was lying on the grass.
"It is his!" she sobbed, "it is my darling's! He hath tried to get to
the mountains to his Amma, and he hath fallen from that accursed cats'
cradle. He is dead! He is killed!"
Every face, except the shepherds', who did not, of course, understand
what was said, turned pale. It was indeed possible, perhaps probable,
that the faithful little soul, who remembered when others forgot, had
tried----
It was a terrible thought. But the shepherds, seeing the cap, at once
whistled to their dog, and the one who spoke Persian explained that if
it were shown the cap it would take up the track of the child at once.
But though they whistled and whistled no dog came.
Then the shepherds began to look grave and mutter among themselves.
"What are they saying? What gibberish are they talking?" shrilled poor
Head-nurse, trying to keep hope alive by being angry. The man who spoke
Persian looked at her cheerfully.
"Only that perhaps the dog has eaten the child. We keep it hungry that
it may chase the wild animals."
This was too much for the womankind. They simply rent the air with
heartbroken sobs.
But Foster-father, grave and silent, would not give up hope. Every foot
of the ravine must be searched, first downwards, as, had the child
really fallen into the stream it must have been carried with it. Then as
a last forlorn hope upwards. So, peering down carefully from either
side, they traced the ravine till, gradually becoming shallower, less
steep, it merged into the grassy valley. But there was no sign. Then
sadly they commenced their upward search, until they were close to the
high cliff whence the stream gushed out. Here they found that the ravine
was wider, and at the bottom of it a patch of sand and boulders showed
that there was foothold beside the roaring torrent.
"I will climb down and see if there is aught," said Roy; "it is easier
here--if he had fallen here, he might--" the tears in his voice
prevented more, as he tucked up his garments preparatory to the
difficult descent.
But the shepherds raised an urgent outcry. There was a demon in the
cavern, they said, whence the water came. There was no use angering it,
no use in losing another life.
Roy struggled madly in their detaining hands, but Old Faithful and
Foster-father looked at each other. Whether there was a demon or not it
was a risk to another life and that should not be a young one.
"No, boy!" said the old warrior stoutly. "This is my task, not thine. I
am good swordsman to begin with, and demons--if there be any--like not a
clean sword thrust. Also I have been pilgrim to Holy Mecca and
demons--if there be any--like not pilgrims' flesh."
So, muttering prayers and holding his drawn sword in his teeth, since
both hands were needed for the parlous descent, he commenced his task
while the others watched him eagerly.
About half way down he paused, looked up and called back; but they could
not hear what he said.
"Take thy sword out of thy mouth, man," shrieked Head-nurse almost
beside herself with grief and rage; "it isn't manners to speak with the
mouth full."
True enough, but Old Faithful had some difficulty in obeying orders.
However, he managed to steady himself for a moment on his two feet; so
sword in hand he bawled back.
"'Tis true! There _is_ a demon. It growls. I hear it plainly. Farewell!
I go on, secure in my sword and Holy----"
Here a foot slipped and he went sliding, slithering, slipping down to
the bottom where, happily only bruised, he sat half-stunned staring in
front of him.
And then there echoed up to the listeners the most terrible barking, and
yelping, and growling, and spitting, that ever was heard!
"The demon! The demon!" yelled the shepherds in terror, and ran for
their lives.
But Roy, ear over the cliff, listened for a second, and the next had
followed Old Faithful. Foster-father was not long behind him, and Meroo
was close on his heels. Foster-mother and Head-nurse were not to be left
out, and somehow they all managed to get down in safety.
And then they all stood and sat silent and agape with surprise and
delight.
For what they saw was this. A low cavern in the rock, and on a shelving
bank of dry sand Baby Akbar sitting up and rubbing his eyes, while on
one side of him was the golliwog of a black dog, his fur all bristling,
his white teeth gleaming as he filled the air with furious barks; while
on the other was the white fluff of a cat, her back arched, her tail the
size of two, spitting and growling fiercely.
How had he got there? Foster-father looked at Foster-mother, Head-nurse
looked at Old Faithful, and Roy looked at Meroo, and they all looked at
each other.
But Baby Akbar only put out one fat hand towards the black dog and said
"Tumbu," and the other fat hand towards the cat and said "Down," and
that was all he would say.
He had tumbled down; but how, when, and where, and how the dog and the
cat came to be with him no one ever knew from that day to this.