A little before evening Thumb suddenly stopped, and stood listening.
They went on a little farther, and again he stood still, with lifted
head, snuffing the air. And soon they all heard plainly the sound of a
great river. In the last light of sunset the travellers broke out of the
forest and looked down on the waters of the deep and swollen Obea-munza.
Along its banks grew giant sedge, stiff and grey with frost like meal.
In this sedge little birds were disporting themselves, flitting and
twittering, with long plumes of every colour that changes in the
sunlight, brushing off with their tiny wings the gathered hoarfrost into
the still sunset air. The Mulgars stood like painted wooden images, with
their bundles and cudgels, staring down at the river, wide and
turbulent, its gloomy hummocks of ice and frozen snow nodding down upon
the pale green waters. They glanced at one another as if with the
question on their faces, "How now, O Mulla-mulgars?"
"'His country lies beyond and beyond,'" muttered Thimble. "'Forest and
river, forest, swamp, and river.' Could, then, our father Seelem walk on
water?"
Thumb coughed in his throat. "What matters it? He went: we follow," he
grunted stubbornly. "We must journey on till our wings grow, Mulla
Thimble, or till your long legs can straddle bank to bank." And they all
three stared in silence again at the swirling icy water.
Now, it was just beginning to be twilight, which is many times more
brief than England's in Munza, and the frozen forest was utterly still
in the fading rose and purple, the beasts not yet having come down to
drink. And while the travellers stood listening, there came, as it were
from afar off, the beating of a drum--seven hollow beats, and then
silence.
"What in Munza, Thumb, makes a noise like that?" Nod whispered. "Listen,
listen!"
They all three hearkened again, with heads bent and eyes fixed, and soon
once more they heard the hollow drumming. Thumb shook his head uneasily.
"It is wary walking, my brothers," he said; "maybe there are
Oomgar-nuggas [black men] by the riverside; or maybe it is one of the
great hairy Gunga-mulgars whose country our father Seelem told me lies
five days' journey towards the daybreak. Whicheversoever, Mulla-mulgars,
we will hobble on and discover."
Thimble dropped lightly, and rested on all-fours a moment. His eyes
squinted a little, for he greatly feared the drumming they had heard.
But Thumb, moving softly, edged watchfully on, and Thimble and Nod
followed as he led along the reedy bank of the river. Ever and again
they heard the drumming repeated, but it seemed no less distant, so they
squatted down to eat while there was light enough in the sky to find
the way from fingers to mouth. They sat down under a twisted
B[=o][=o]bab-tree, opened their bundles, and took out the frosted nuts
and fruits which they had lately gathered for their supper. But it was
so bitterly cold by the waterside Nod could scarcely crack his shells
between his chattering teeth. And now the waning moon was beginning to
silver river and forest. From the farther bank rose the cries of Munza's
beasts come down to drink, mournful, lean, and fierce from hunger and
cold. Soon the long-billed river-birds began their night-talk across the
water. And while the Mulgars were sitting silently munching, out of the
shadow before their faces came on her soundless pads a young
she-leopard, and with catlike face stood regarding them.
Thumb and Thimble dropped softly their hands, and very slowly stooped
their stiff-haired heads. But the leopard, after regarding them awhile,
and seeing them to be three together and Mulgars-royal, drew back her
head, yawned, and leapt lightly back into the shadowy grasses from which
she had stolen out. "One Roses brings many," said Thumb sourly; "let us
hobble on, Mulla-mulgars, until we find a quieter sleeping-place."
But it was now so dark beside the river that the Mulgars had to stop and
walk on the knuckles of their hands, as do all the Munza-mulgars. And
while they walked heedfully forward, they heard the trump-billed
river-birds calling their secrets one to another:
"I see Mulgars, one, two, three,
Creeping, crawling, one, two, three."
Once Thumb trod on a forest-pig that was lying half dead with cold under
a root of Samarak. But the pig was too weak to squeal. Nod stooped and
gave him three Ukka-nuts and a pepper-pod. "There, pig," he said, "tell
your brothers who stole my bundle that Nod Nizza-neela gave you these
when you were frozen." And the pig, being a pig, opened its slits of
eyes and feebly snapped at his fingers. Nod laughed and hastened after
his brothers.
Over the half-moon a cloud of snow was drawing, and soon the whispering
flakes began to float again between the branches. The wind that blew
steadily down the river was sharp and icy. The travellers were afraid,
if they slept in the trees again, they would be frozen. And if even one
big toe of any one of them got frost-bitten, how distant would the
Valley of Tishnar seem then! They heard, too, now and then the faint
sounds of snapping twig and rustling reed, and a low whimpering growl
would sometimes set the giant grasses trembling. Stiff and crusted with
frost, and in constant danger of falling into the river, they crawled
stubbornly on.
And suddenly straight before them burned out a light in the darkness
that was neither of moon, star, nor frost-fire. On they rustled, very
warily now, because they knew somewhere here must lurk the Oomgar-nugga
or Gunga-mulgar whose drumming they had heard. One by one they
presently crept out of the sedge, and stood up a few paces from a kind
of huddle or hut, standing crooked and smoking in the moonlight, and
built of two or three rows of huge stakes, three times plaited, very
fast and close, with Samarak and withies of all kinds. It stood about
three Mulgars high, and its walls were more than four spans thick.
The light which the travellers had espied burning in the distance
streamed from a misshapen window-hole far above Thimble's head. The
Mulgars stood staring at one another in the shadow of the black forest,
and now and then they would hear a rumble or clatter from behind the
thick walls, and presently a sneeze or cough. After which would suddenly
roll out the loud and hollow drumming of the great creature within.
So Thumb bade Nod climb softly on to Thimble's shoulder, and very slowly
lift his face up and look in. Up went Nod, and softly drew his
sheep-skinned head into the light. And the first thing he noticed was a
wonderful steaming smell of broth cooking, and then, as he pushed his
head farther through the window-hole, he looked down into the hut. And
he saw, sitting there on a huge bench before his eating-board, a
gigantic Gunga-mulgar in a shift or shirt of fish-skin. He was guzzling
down broth out of a gourd, and fishing for titbits of fish-fat in it
with a wooden prong or skewer. He knew his comfort, this ugly Gunga. He
sat with crossed legs before a blazing fire. It shone on his fangs and
teeth and flaming eyes. A huge axe, made out of a stone, hung on the
wall. In one corner lay a heap of brushwood and fish-bones, and in a
hole in the ground a pile of logs. There were skins, too, on the walls
of fishes and birds and little furry beasts, and two fat hog-fish shone
silvery in the fire-light. Besides these, there was an Oomgar-nugga's
bow of wood, thrice strung with twisted string. But what pleased Nod
most to see, as he peeped stealthily down through the thorny wattle
window, was an old grey Burbhrie cat, which sat washing her face in
front of the fire.
He was still peeping and peering into the hut, when Thumb pinched his
leg to bid him come down. So he slid cautiously down Thimble's back into
the cold moonlight again, and told his brothers all he had seen.
"Yes, Mulla-mulgars," he said, "and beside his bow and his sharp-nosed
darts, he has three big knubbly cudgels in the corner higher than is
Nod. He sits there, muttering and chuffing and sticking a long wood spit
in his soup, and then he coughs and says 'Ug!' and beats his black fists
on his chest till the flames shake."
Thumb's short thick scalp twitched to and fro as he sat on his heels,
staring into the moonlight. "Is he very big and strong? Is he as broad
and thick as Thumb?" he said.
"He's sitting in a spangly shirt," said Nod, "and his arms are like
B[=o][=o]bab-roots--like B[=o][=o]bab-roots--and his eyes,
Mulla-mulgars, they burn in bony houses, and his face is black as
charcoal."
Thumb lifted his face uneasily and yawned. "We will push on; we will not
meddle with the Gunga, my brothers," he said. "Better sleep cold than
never wake." He laughed, and patted Nod on the head with his
stump-thumbed hand, just as Seelem used to do when Nod was a baby. So
they crept softly past the huddle on their fours, turning their heads
this way, that way, snuffing softly along on an icy path that led
through the sword-grass to the river's edge. And there, tossing lightly
on the water, they found a boat, or Bobberie, of Bemba-wood and skin
pegged down with wooden pegs. It was moored fast with a rope of Samarak,
and two broad paddles lay inside it. All this the travellers saw faintly
in the moonlit dusk. Far away they heard the barking and weeping of
Coccadrilloes as they stooped together over the Bobberie, rising and
falling on the gloomy water.
"Let us not trouble the Gunga at his supper," said Thimble, "but get in
first and ask leave after."
And Thumb began softly hauling on the rope. But the smooth round stone
on which they stood was coated green with ice, and as he pulled his foot
slipped. He flung out his arms: down went Thumb; down went Nod. No
sooner had their uproar died away than an angry and ogreish voice broke
out from the hut. Thumb, with Thimble at his heels, had only just time
enough to scramble off and hide himself in the giant sedge before down
swung the gibbering Gunga on the crutches of his hairy arms to see what
was amiss, and who was meddling with his boat.
There he found Nod, floating like a sheeny bubble in his puffed-out
sheep's-jacket on the icy water. He stooped down and clawed him up with
one enormous paw, and carried him off into his hut. Then, putting up the
wooden door, he sat him down with a shout before his blazing fire.
"Ohé, ohé, ohé!" he bellowed. "Zutha mu beluthli zakketi zanga x[=u]t!"
Nod, cold and trembling, lifted his little grey face out of his
streaming sheep's-coat and shook his head.
Then the Gunga, seeing this crackle-shell did not understand his
language, bawled at him in Munza-mulgar: "Thief, thief! What were you
after, fishing from great Gunga's boat?" Nod shook his head again, for
he expected every moment that great hand to clutch him up and fling him
into the fire.
"Thief, thief, and son of a thief!" squalled the Gunga again, opening
his great mouth.
But at that Nod's wits grew suddenly clear and still. "Not so fast--not
so fast, Master Gunga," he said. "Mulla-mulgars are neither thieves nor
sons of thieves. Squeal that at the Munza-mulgars, not at Ummanodda!"
The old Gunga stared with jutting teeth. "Mulla-mulgars," he grunted
mockingly. "Off with that sheep-skin, Prince of Fleas! I'll skin ye
'fore I cook ye!"
Nod stared bravely into the glinting sooty face. "Gunga duseepi sooklar,
by N[=o][=o]manossi's harp!"
The old Gunga stooped closer on his fleshless legs and blinked. "What
knows a fly-catching Skeeto of N[=o][=o]manossi's harp?" he said.
"What knows a fish-bait Gunga of the Princes of Tishnar?" Nod answered,
and calmly sat down beside the old Burbhrie cat on a log in front of the
fire. The savage old Puss stretched out her claws, spread back her
tufted ash-coloured ears, and with grey-green eyes stared fiercely into
his face. But Nod clutched tight his Wonderstone, and paid no heed; and
soon she lazily turned again to the flames, and began to purr like a
nestful of Nikkanakkas.
The Gunga stared, too, snapped his great jaws, coughed, then beat with
his warty fist on his great breast. "Ohé, ohé!" he said. "I meant no
evil to the Mulla-mulgar. Princes of Tishnar journey not often past old
Gunga's house. I hutch alone, far from my own country, Royal Stranger,
with only my black-man's Bobberie for friend."
Nod, when he heard this, almost laughed out. "Not now, 'Prince of
Bonfires,' nor 'Noddle of Pork,'" he thought, "but 'Royal Stranger,' and
'Prince of Tishnar.'"
"Why, then," he said aloud to the Gunga, "tongues chatter best when they
have something good to say. I'll take a platter of soup with you, Friend
of Fishes. And better still, I'll dry my magic coat." He slipped out of
his dripping jacket, and spread it out in front of the fire, and there
he sat, slim and silky, in his little cotton-leaf breeches, scratching
Puss's head and pretending himself at home. But the old Fish-catcher's
bloodshot eyes were watching--watching all the time. He was thinking
what snug and beautiful breeches that sheep's-coat would make him this
icy weather. But he thought, too, it would be best to speak civilly and
smoothly to his visitor--at least, for the present. Not even a
Gunga-mulgar cares to quarrel with peaceful Tishnar.
"Make yourself easy, Traveller," he said, nodding his peaked head with a
hideous smile. "The moon was at hide-and-seek when I found you in the
water; I could not see your royal countenance. But Simmul, she knows
best." The old Burbhrie cat turned to her master at sound of her name,
put up her tufted paw towards Nod, and mewed.
"Ohé, ohé!" said the Gunga mournfully. "She's mewing 'Magic.' And what
knows a feeble old Fish-catcher of Magic?" He poured out some soup into
a bowl, put in a skewer, and handed it to Nod.
"I will hang the Royal Stranger's beautiful sheep's-coat on a hook," he
said slyly. "There it will dry much quicker."
But Nod guessed easily what he was after. Once hung up there, how was he
ever going to reach his jacket down again? "No, no," says he; "it's
nearly dry already."
He took the gourd of soup between his knees. It tasted strong of fish,
and was green with a satiny river-weed; but it was hot and sweetish, and
he supped it up greedily. And just as he was tilting the bowl for the
last mouthful he looked up and saw Thumb's round, astonished face
staring in at the little dark window. He put down his gourd and burst
out laughing.
"What makes the stranger laugh?" said the old Gunga-mulgar. "It's very
good broth."
"I was laughing," said Nod, "laughing at that last fish I caught."
"Was it a big fish--a fat, heavy fish?" said the Gunga.
Nod stared, with one eye shut and his head a little awry, at the two
hog-fish dangling on the wall. "Five times as big as them," he said.
"Five?" said the Gunga.
"Five or six," said Nod.
"Or six!" said the Gunga.
"Truly," said Nod softly, "he fishes not for minnows who knows the magic
fish-song of the Water-middens."
The old Gunga turned his great black skull, and beneath the beetling
porches of his eyes glowered greedily on Nod. "And what," he said
cunningly--"what song is that, O Royal Stranger?" And he stooped down
suddenly and pushed Nod's jacket under the bench.
"Why do you push my sheep's-coat under the bench?" said Nod angrily.
"I smelt--I smelt," said Gunga, throwing back his head, "scorching. But
softly, Mulla-mulgar. What is this Water-middens' song that catches
fishes five--six times as big as mine? And if you know all this wisdom,
and are truly a Prince of Tishnar, why do you sit here, this freezing
night, supping up a poor old Fish-catcher's broth?"
[Illustration]
[Illustration]