[Illustration]
“A good man greets each new day as if it were a holiday.” Turgen
thought of this proverb upon waking every morning now, because it
described exactly the way he felt. By becoming the protector of these
defenseless animals, he had found a mission which used all the warmth
of his lonely heart. He only regretted that the idea of feeding the
rams had occurred to him so late. “But why waste time in regret?” he
reflected. “Better rejoice that the idea came to me at last.”
In order not to give the rams occasion for fright, it was necessary
to change certain of his habits. For one thing, he did no hunting at
all in the neighborhood of his yurta and the rams’ feeding ground, but
travelled some distance before permitting himself to fire a shot. He
was gratified to discover before long that with the coming of spring
birds and small animals, especially squirrels, flocked to his mountain
side in great numbers. It was as if a rumor had spread that his place
was their assurance of safety. The next spring and the next it was
the same. Gay and charming visitors he had never known before came to
delight him with their presence, and he felt himself being drawn into
another world. How wonderful to be looked upon as a friend rather than
as an enemy of these creatures!
In three years the rams, too, showed growing confidence in him. He fed
them regularly, even when the snow melted and the crevices of the rocky
hills revealed young grass and tender new shoots on the shrubs.
One sunny day he had gone as usual to the Rams’ Mountain and was
standing on a ledge near the feeding ground waiting for them to appear.
Soon he saw three coming cautiously toward him. Quickly he stepped out
of sight. By their watchful movements he judged that they had been sent
to reconnoitre, and he was more sure of this a moment later when they
bleated a piercing “Ma-a! Ma-a!”
He could not doubt that this was a signal to inform hidden companions
that all was well, for the entire ram family now appeared, led by a
huge powerful fellow who held his head with its sharp spiralling horns
proudly. “What strength! What assurance!” Turgen thought, enchanted.
The long beard and tail indicated that the leader ram was not young,
but his legs were slender and built to endure. He had a reddish-brown
coat flecked here and there with white. By his extraordinary size and
confident attitude he impressed his authority on the herd.
When the leader after a brief survey had satisfied himself that
there was no danger he spoke calmly to his charges. “Ma-a!” he said.
Whereupon all the rams fell to eating.
Turgen counted them: six females and three males--with two lambs not
more than three weeks old, which he had not seen before. Unlike the
lambs he had noticed briefly in previous seasons, these were gay and
frisky and seemed prepared to enjoy a long life. Two lambs to six
females was not a large increase. Still they were promise of new
generations. Turgen was overjoyed. Surely the smaller one must be a
girl, the larger one a boy. He watched them drink greedily of their
mother’s milk, then pick at some grass only to reject it disdainfully
and return to their mothers. Clearly they preferred milk to the food of
grown-ups.
Turgen could not take his eyes from the rams, his wild mountaineers. In
his imagination he saw this little family grown into a great herd.