MOUNT AND AWAY.
“Ha! ha! Master Thucydides Thorn, you are evidently a second Don
Quixote, bent on adventures, or you would not start with a square yard
of black sticking-plaster, bound ‘with red rags to look like blood,’
hanging round your neck! That is something like business. Ha! ha! ha!”
It was Dr. Pinfold who thus chatted and laughed. He had come to see Io
start on her expedition, and was rejoiced to find his favourite looking
already in much better health. Io’s spirits had rebounded after their
late depression, the cause of that depression having been suddenly
removed. She looked bright and quite ready to enjoy herself as she
gazed up laughingly at the elephant, wondering how she should ever
reach the height of his back.
“Make the brute kneel to his lady, as in duty bound!” cried the doctor
to the _kahaut_ [driver], who was perched on the elephant’s neck. The
man shook his head, and jabbered something unintelligible to most of
the party.
“He says that this elephant is not trained to kneel,” said Oscar,
coming up at the moment. “We have a short elephant-ladder which we will
carry with us.――Io, my love, are you ready to mount?”
With the aid of her husband and the doctor Io very soon reached the
howdah, and smiled down on those who had helped her to attain her lofty
position.
“A little queen on her throne!” cried the doctor.
“Please help Maha too,” said Io. But the active little Karen needed no
help; she clambered up the steps like a cat.
“Now, knight of the sticking-plaster, let us see you on your tat,” said
Pinfold gaily.
“This is not sticking-plaster; do you not see the labels?” cried Thud.
“This is what I am going to stow my specimens in――this is the nucleus
of a museum.”
“You’ll have some rare treasures in it,” said the merry doctor. “I hope
you’ve left a pocket for bandages and salve, in case you come to grief
in your specimen-hunting.――Coldstream, how do you travel?”
“On foot. I like the exercise,” replied Oscar. “We shall proceed but
slowly. I can easily keep up with the elephant.”
“But hardly with the tat. Ha! ha! ha!――Mind, Thud, how you get up; the
brute looks as if he were given to biting. No, no, don’t venture behind
him; he puts back his ears――he’s certain to kick.”
“Hold him, will you? and don’t laugh!” cried Thucydides Thorn. “I don’t
like the looks of the beast.”
Awkwardly the heavy lad mounted, secretly regretting the accident to
Lightfoot, which had prevented his having the chance of a better mount.
The Burmese tat might have tried the mettle of a better rider than Thud.
First, Ma Ping――such was his name――determined not to stir from the spot.
In vain Thud tried to coax him to go on, then cautiously touched him up
with the whip, Pinfold looking on and laughing.
“Give it him, Thud!” cried the doctor, bestowing on the tat a
gratuitous whack with his own umbrella.
The unexpected blow from behind had instantaneous effect. Ma Ping
suddenly bolted off at a pace which almost unseated his rider. Off came
Thud’s _pagri_ and hat; but he clung desperately to the pommel with
which the native saddle was happily furnished, without the aid of which
the youth would certainly have come to the ground.
“‘Away went Gilpin, who but he!’” exclaimed Pinfold in high glee;
indeed, no one acquainted with Cowper’s poem could have seen Thud
at that moment without being reminded of the “citizen of credit and
renown.” The tat’s rapid motion had twisted round Thud’s black case,
and, hanging by its red strings, it streamed like a pennon behind him.
The tat was, however, brought up in its career by a cactus hedge; and
Thud, panting and frightened but unhurt, awaited the coming up of the
elephant and the rest of the party.
Thud made another attempt to arrange that Maha should change places
with himself; the tat would suit a Karen, he declared, and he would
prefer a howdah. But to this arrangement Oscar decidedly objected. He
again gave his brother-in-law the alternative of remaining in Moulmein,
but to this suggestion the lad would not listen. The specimen case
was twisted round to its proper position, the hat and dusty _pagri_
replaced, and Thud proceeded on his tat in rather a sulky condition.
Io enjoyed her ride; everything was to the youthful Englishwoman so
strange and new. The party passed by paddy-fields, in which men and
women were working together. The peasants stopped their labours to
stare in wonder at a fair lady, who in return gazed down with curiosity
upon them.
“O Oscar, look at that boy smoking a cigar three times the size of Dr.
Pinny’s, with another stuck in each ear! How strange everything looks
to my English eyes! What wonderfully tall grass we are approaching! It
would almost hide my elephant; the tat will be lost in it altogether.
Graceful bamboos! with what dignity they raise aloft their feathery
crowns; and surely that is a banyan, that tree of which I have read
so often, that looks like a dark green roof resting on gnarled brown
pillars, with big roots, like snakes, curling at their bases. This
bird’s-eye view of a new world is very amusing. What a flight of
parrots――lovely green, screaming parrots! And see that bird with
flashing blue wings――such an exquisite metallic tint! Certainly, if
our English birds excel those of the East in song, these far excel ours
in plumage.”
With such cheerful chat Io Coldstream beguiled the way. Oscar
encouraged his wife to talk, gathered for her wild flowers wherever
he could see any remarkable for beauty, and bade Io employ Maha’s deft
fingers in making garlands for the howdah. He told stories of hunting
adventures, and promised his wife specimens of birds to take home, as
he had not forgotten to bring his gun.
“I think that my Oscar is getting back his spirits; the change is
already doing him good,” such was the hope which brightened everything
to Io. She was almost sorry when the first stage of the journey came
to an end, and the party halted to rest their animals, and themselves
partake of a meal which they found ready cooked, as Coldstream had sent
on servants in front to prepare it.
“Tired? Oh no, not in the least tired,” cried Io, as her husband helped
her down the elephant-ladder; “I am only hungry after my delightful
ride.”
“I’m famishing!” exclaimed Thud. “My ride has been anything but
delightful. I’m as stiff as if I’d been beaten.”
“There is still time for you to return,” observed Oscar.
“I don’t want to return; but I want to ride the elephant――he’s a quiet,
sensible sort of beast. Can’t the beggar girl go on the tat?”
Again the proposition met with a decided negative from Oscar.
“It seems hardly worth while to pitch the tent now,” observed
Coldstream to Io; “we shall have to do so at night.”
“But not now, oh, not now! with this delightful cluster of trees to
spread over us their shade and shed their golden blossoms upon us,”
was the cheerful reply.
Thud ate ravenously, and then solaced himself for his fatigues and
perils by sleeping on a soft, luxurious rug spread on the ground.
Oscar, after his long walk, and with another before him, also stretched
himself on the grass, but he did not sleep. He was listening to the
voice of his Io, warbling to herself a sweet, happy lay. Io sang as the
birds sing, pouring forth the rich notes as if they came spontaneously
from a thankful, trustful heart:――
“The angry thunder-cloud
Pours its showers on the vine;
Safe in their downy shroud
Unhurt the clusters shine.
The raindrops trickle down the spray;
They cannot harm, they cannot stay.
“On ocean the sea-mew
Fearless braves the stormy weather,
Safe in the oily dew
On each soft and glist’ning feather.
Though o’er her dash the briny spray,
It cannot harm, it cannot stay.
“In hours of grief acute
Thus peace religion brings,
Like the bloom upon the fruit,
Or the oil upon the wings.
Though tears fall fast in sorrow’s day,
They cannot harm, they cannot stay.”
“Sing that again, my love,” said Oscar.
“I did not know that you were listening; I thought that I had lulled
you to sleep,” said Io. “So you like my little song?”
“Your music is my solace,” replied Oscar; “it tells me that you are
happy, and to see you so is my greatest earthly desire.”
“I have one song which you have not heard yet,” observed Io. “I stole
the air from the world; it is a pretty old English tune. You know that
Luther said that the evil one should not have the best music.”
“Sing it by all means,” cried Oscar; and his wife cheerfully obeyed:――
“I’m waiting for the dawn of day,
When joy shall end earth’s sin and sadness,
When every shade shall pass away――
The world, with all its guilt and madness.
Oh, how happy――Christ possessing――
Close, close to Him, the Fount of Blessing.
His smile so bright,
My joy, delight,
And every thought a thought of pleasure.”
Thus Io sang song after song. To Oscar each one seemed sweeter than the
last. Was the loving minstrel not charming the dark spirit of sorrow
away? It was not till the sun was sloping towards the west that, the
burdens being replaced on the mules, Io and Maha mounted again to the
howdah.
“This has been such a happy day!” observed Io to her husband, as again
the little cavalcade moved on.
But the day was not to close without its adventure. Thud, tired of his
troublesome tat, asked Oscar to mount the animal. “You may bring the
brute into order; I don’t mind walking a little. Perhaps I may find
something to put into my specimen bag.”
But Thud soon became weary of walking. A stubble field afforded no
materials for his museum, and the path was thickly covered with dust.
The tat, ridden by Oscar, looked quiet enough, and Thucydides Thorn
expressed a wish to try him again.
Oscar dismounted, and held the tat’s bridle to enable his companion to
get up――a feat not very easily accomplished by Thud, who was awkward at
mounting. But once in the saddle, the lad’s self-confidence revived; he
resolved to show his mastery over the tat.
“I understand him now,” exclaimed the youth, shaking the rein and
flourishing the whip. “I’ve a notion that an animal soon finds out what
sort of man is on his back. My theory is――”
What Thud’s theory was remains amongst things unknown; for the tat made
a sudden caper, first turning completely round, then darting with speed
in the direction of Moulmein.
“Stop him! stop him!” cried Thud; and as the tat dashed past the loaded
mules, one of the drivers tried to catch at the rein. The tat swerved,
made a plunge, and Thud measured his short length on the dusty road!
“Oh, I trust that he is not hurt!” exclaimed Io, who was near the place
where her brother had fallen, but who could not dismount without aid.
The reply came in a howl of mingled anger and pain from the prostrate
rider. Oscar hastened to the spot where Thud, who had now raised
himself to a sitting position, was roaring like a two-year-old child,
and pressing his handkerchief to his mouth.
“Help me down, Oscar,” cried the pitying Io. “I must see how much my
poor boy is hurt.”
“There is not much harm done, I think,” observed Mr.
Coldstream.――“Stand up and shake yourself, Thud. There are certainly
no bones broken; the road was perfectly soft. Leave off crying, Thud;
tears are unworthy of any one but a baby. There seems to be very little
the matter.”
“Little the matter!” howled Thud. “Would you have called the matter
little if you had had your two front teeth knocked out?” and, removing
his handkerchief, Thud showed a tear-stained face, with a mouth whose
beauty was by no means improved by an unsightly gap in the upper row of
his teeth.
Thud carefully preserved the two teeth. Dr. Pinfold’s prediction had
come true: these rare treasures, at least to their owner, were the
first to be placed in the specimen bag.