ALONG THE GYPSY TRAIL
BANDA BELA found life in the Gypsy camp quiet, but not unpleasant. He
had a place to sleep and food to eat. Jarnik was good to him and
Marushka his devoted friend. Rosa, a young and very pretty Gypsy girl,
was kind to the waif, and the rest of the tribe paid no attention to
him. What was one ragged boy, more or less, to them? The camp fairly
swarmed with them.
Since the Tziganes had crossed the mountains from India many hundred
years ago, they had wandered about Hungary, and the Gypsies to whom
Banda Bela had come were of the _Gletecore_, or wandering Gypsies, a
better race than the _Kortoran_ who dwell in mud huts or caves near the
villages.
The _Gletecore_ are never still. They wander from one end of Hungary to
the other, playing their music, begging, stealing, sometimes carving
little utensils out of wood, or tinkering for the living which seems to
come to them easily, perhaps because they want but little.
There was little that Banda Bela could do, but he waited upon old
Jarnik, ran errands, watched Marushka, and caught many a fine fish from
the river for the fire-pot. The Danube was full of fish, delicious in
flavour.
Always the little boy could make music, and his violin charmed many an
hour for him, while Marushka, ever following at his heels like a little
dog, learned to love his music scarcely less than he did.
One morning Marushka wakened Banda Bela by calling loudly:
"Banda Bela! Come! The sun is up. Stepan has come back, and they move
the camp to-day!"
Banda Bela sprang to his feet and hurried out of the tent. Already there
were signs of stir in the camp. Stepan, a young Gypsy chief, was
standing beside the cart which was being loaded with camp utensils.
Banda Bela had not seen him before, for the chief had been away from the
band ever since the boy came.
Stepan was six feet tall; part of his coal-black hair was braided into a
tight knob over his forehead, the rest hung down in matted, oily locks
upon his shoulders. In his mouth was a long Weixel-wood pipe, and he
wore a loose, white, cotton shirt gathered around the neck, and baggy
white trousers. He was very handsome and his copper-coloured skin shone
as if it was polished. All about him swarmed children and dogs, while
the older Gypsies were packing up the camp effects and loading them into
the two or three carts, which patient horses stood ready to draw.
"Eat quickly," cried Marushka. "There is but a crust left, I saved it
for you. We go on the road to-day, and hunger will gnaw your stomach
before we camp again." Banda Bela took the food, ate it hurriedly, and
ran up to Stepan.
"Let me help," he said briefly.
"Who are you and what can you do?" the young chief looked him over
keenly.
"I am Banda Bela. I can make music with my violin, swing an adze, cut
bowls from wood, drive a horse, row a boat, catch fish, do as I am bid,
and keep my tongue silent," he said.
"If you can do the last two things you have already learned much," said
Stepan. "Go and help Jarnik load, for he is old and feels himself
young."
Banda Bela nodded and went over to where the old man was loading one of
the carts. He helped as best he could and soon the wagons were loaded
and the camp deserted. The Gypsies had taken the road. It was a
beautiful day. The wind blew cool and free from the river, which swept
along at the foot of wooded heights, gleaming like glass in the morning
sun. Ducks splashed in the water, and now and then Banda Bela saw the
waters boil and bubble. Something black would flash above the surface,
there would be a splash and a swirl of waters, and the radiating ripples
reached the shore as a great fish would spring into the air, flash in
the sunlight, and sink into the waters again.
Steamers passed down the stream on their way to Buda-Pest, or towing
huge barges filled with the peasants' teams and wagons, loaded with
grain to be ground at the quaint water mills, built on piles out in the
stream where the current was so strong as to turn the huge wheels
quickly and grind the grain, raised on the great plains of the south. To
the north the mountains rose blue and beautiful. The boy saw all. His
eyes shone; his cheek was flushed.
"Good is the Gypsy trail," he said to himself. "Sun, light, and wind,
all free, and I am with mine own people. Life is sweet."
All day long the carts rumbled along. When the sun was high overhead the
Gypsies rested beside the river. Banda Bela caught some fish, and Rosa
cooked them for supper.
Next day they turned from the river and travelled over the plains. There
was no shade. To the right stretched great fields of maize and flax.
The dust was white and fine, and so hot it seemed almost to prick their
faces like needles. It rose in white clouds around the carts and
followed them in whirling columns.
In front of them from time to time other clouds of dust arose, which,
upon nearing, they discovered to be peasant carts, driven with four or
six horses, for the peasants in this part of Hungary are rich and
prosperous. The soil is fertile and yields wonderful crops, though for
ninety years it has had no rest, but the peasants are not tempted to
laziness by the ease with which things grow. They begin their day's work
at three o'clock in the morning and work until eight or nine at night,
eating their luncheon and supper in the fields.
Banda Bela saw many of them, fine, tall fellows, working easily and
well, but in his heart he was glad that he did not have to toil under
the hot sun.
Shepherds were seated here and there in the fields, looking like small
huts, for they wore queer conical _bundas_ which covered them from their
necks to their knees. These sheepskin coats are worn both winter and
summer, for the shepherds say they keep out heat as well as cold.
The shepherds must watch the flocks by day and night, and when the
weather is wet they sleep sitting on small round stools to keep them
from the damp ground. Toward dark the Gypsy band halted by the roadside,
near to a group of shepherds' huts. Here they were to stop for the night
and Banda Bela was glad, for his legs ached with fatigue. He had walked
nearly all day except for a short time when Marushka had asked to have
him ride in the cart and play for her.
The shepherds greeted the Tziganes kindly. Jews and Armenians the
Hungarians dislike, but for the Gypsies there is a fellow feeling, for
all Hungarians love music and nearly all Tziganes have music at their
fingers' ends and in their velvet voices.
The Gypsies pitched their tents and Banda Bela stole aside from the camp
to play his beloved violin. He tuned it and then gently ran his bow up
and down the strings and began a soft little melody. It was like the
crooning song of a young mother to her child. The boy was a genius,
playing with wonderful correctness and with a love for music which
showed in every note he sounded. The shepherds paused in preparing their
evening meal and listened. When he ceased playing they called to him,
"If you will play more you may eat with us."
"I will play gladly, and gladly will I eat," he answered, showing in a
gleaming smile his teeth, even and white as a puppy's. In the pockets of
the shepherds' coats were stored all manner of good things, bacon, black
bread, and wine, even _slivowitz_, the wonderfully good Hungarian
brandy, which Banda Bela had tasted only once in his life, but which the
Gypsies make to perfection.
The shepherds' camp had a one-roomed, straw-thatched hut, which they
used as a storehouse for their coats and extra food supplies. A great
well was in front of the hut. It had a huge beam of wood with a
cross-piece at the top and from this hung a bucket. The boy drew up a
bucketful of the water and found it deliciously cold.
Near the camp was the shepherds' cooking hut, made of reeds tied
together and with a hole in the top for the escape of the smoke. The
hut looked like a corn shock with a door in one side. This door was open
and Banda Bela saw a fire burning brightly, a pot hung over the embers,
and a smell of _kasa_ arose, as a tall shepherd tossed the meal and
bacon into a kind of cake.
Marushka had strayed away from the Gypsies and now stood beside Banda
Bela shyly watching the cooking in silence. She was a quiet little
thing, with her golden hair unlike the bold, black-eyed little Gypsy
children who rolled around the ground, half clad, snatching food from
the pot and gnawing bones like hungry dogs.
"Who is this child?" asked one of the shepherds. "She is no Gypsy. What
is your name, child?"
"I am Marushka," she answered sweetly. "Who are you?"
"I am a shepherd," he said, smiling at her.
"Do you tend sheep all day?" she demanded.
"No, once I was one of the _juhasz_,[2] but now I am past that. I am one
of the _gulyas_,[3] and in another year I shall be among the
_csikos_."[4]
"Where are your oxen?" asked Marushka.
"There in the plain," he said, pointing to what looked like a great,
still, white sea some distance away. As he spoke the sea seemed to break
into waves, first rippling, then stormy, as the oxen rose to their feet,
many of them tossing their heads in the air and bellowing loudly. They
were immense creatures, perfectly white and very beautiful, with great
dark eyes and intelligent faces.
"There are my children," said the shepherd. "But I am afraid there is a
wind storm coming, for they show fear only of storm or fire." He
watched the herd for a few moments, but though they snuffed the air they
finally settled down quietly to rest again.
"Let us eat," said the shepherd. "Perhaps the storm has passed over."
How good the _kasa_ tasted. The little Tziganes had never eaten it
before, and they enjoyed it thoroughly.
The sun was sinking in the west, and the yellow fields of grain were
gleaming as if tipped with gold. Dusk deepened, stars peeped out of the
violet heavens. Here and there leaped sudden flame, as some shepherd,
feeling lonely, signalled thus to a friend across the plain. Mists rose
white and ghost-like; the land seemed turned to silver. The tired
children turned to seek their camp to sleep when--
"Lie down!" cried one of the shepherds. "Lie flat on your faces and do
not stir! A storm comes!" So urgent was the call that Banda Bela dropped
at once flat upon the grass, grasping Marushka's hand and pulling her
down beside him.
"Don't be afraid," he said. "Only lie still and the storm will pass
above us." She lay like a little frightened bird, trembling and
quivering, but saying nothing. The great wind broke over them with a
swirl as of fierce waters. It whistled and screamed, blowing with it a
fine white dust, then as quickly as it had come it passed, and all was
still. Banda Bela raised his head and looked around him. The wind had
died down as suddenly as it had sprung up and the plain was so still
that not even the grasses stirred. Their shepherd friends rose from the
ground where they too had thrown themselves, and one of them called to
the children to come back.
"Are you safe?" he asked.
"Oh, yes," said Banda Bela.
"I was frightened, but Banda Bela held my hand," said little Marushka.
"Now I am very thirsty."
"The dust and wind always cause great thirst," said the herder. "But no
one need be thirsty in the 'Land of a Thousand Springs!' Here is water
cool and fresh in the great well, and a little sweet, white wine. Drink
and then run quickly away to sleep, for it is late for small men and
women."
"What are those giant things which stand so dark against the sky? They
frighten me," cried Marushka, as she clung to Banda Bela and looked
behind the shepherds' huts.
"Only mighty haystacks, little one. Enough hay is there to last twenty
regiments of soldiers fifty years, so that our cattle need never go
hungry. Go now. To-morrow you camp here and I will show you many
things."
"Would that those children were mine," he said to himself as the two ran
away to the camp. "The boy I like, he is clean and straight, and his
music stirs my soul; but the little girl reaches my very heart."
FOOTNOTES:
[2] Swine-herd.
[3] Ox-herd.
[4] Horse-herd.