The Sa'-Zada Tales Part 21

"But all at once, 'Buh!' came a hoa.r.s.e call from the Firestick, and Black Wolf, our Leader, 'E-e-he-uh!' fell over backward, dead. Then I knew what it was. The Huntman had cut open the Musk-Ox, and crawling inside, had kept his life warm through the fierce storm. But the Redmen had gone. Whether they had died because of the storm, or trailed away because of the Head-taking, I know not; but there they were not. Close curled against the Musk-Ox had lain the Hunter's three Dogs, and they, too, were alive.

"Then commenced such a trail of a Man, Comrades, as I, Wolf though I am, never wish to see again. E-u-uh! eu-u-uh! but it was dreadful, for in his face there was the Fear Look that Hathi has spoken of. Night and day it was there, I think, for he dared not sleep as he hurried back toward the Big Water. Being without a Leader, we were like a lot of Monkeys, fighting and jangling amongst ourselves. Some were for killing him, but others said, 'Wait, surely he will make a kill of Musk-Ox again, and then we shall have eating--what is one Man to a Wolf Pack in the way of food?'

"That day, coming up with a Herd, he shot two of the Moss-eaters, and, as we ate of them, he trailed to the South; but that availed him little, Comrades, for the swing of a Wolf's going is like the run of a river; and when he camped that night we also camped there. And the next day, and the next, it was the same; the Huntman pus.h.i.+ng on with tiring walk striving for his life, and, behind the Pack--some howling for a Kill of the Man, and some fighting to save him that we might have greater eating.

"It was the last day before we came to the Big Water. That day, being full famished, for we had pa.s.sed the land of the Musk-Ox--though to be sure he had killed two Caribou for us--we ate his Dogs, and he was fleeing on foot.

"I must say, Comrades, though I lay no claim to a sweet nature, yet I wished not to make a Kill of the Man. But five times, as I remember it, some of the Pack, eager for his life, closed in on him; and five times with the Firestick he slew many of my Wolf Brethren. Comrades, he made a brave fight to reach the shack."

"This is a terrible tale," cried Magh, excitedly. "Did he reach the shack alive, Oohoo?"

"Yes, but would you believe it, Comrades, the White Man who had been left behind, through being alone and through drinking much Firewater, had become mad, even as I have seen a Wolf in the time of great heat; and he knew not his Comrade, the Huntman, but called through the closed door, 'Go away, go away!'

"'I am Jack,' called the Huntman.

"'Jack is dead!' yelped the Man who was mad. 'He is dead out in the strong storm, and you are an evil spirit--go away! go away!'

"Oh, Hathi, it was dreadful, dreadful.

"'Let me in, Tom; I am Jack,' pleaded the Huntman who had come so far through the snow; and, just beyond, we of the Wolf Pack waited, waited, waited.

"Sa'-zada, the cry of the lone Wolf is not so dreadful as the yelpings of the Man who was mad. Even we of the Wolf Pack moved back a little when he called with a fierce voice. And he always answered: 'Go away!

You are an evil spirit. Jack is dead! But I did not kill him--Go away!'

And, Sa'-zada, though it is dreadful, yet it is true, he struck with his Firestick full through the door, and killed the Man who was Jack.

And in the end he, too, died, and the Wolves buried them both after the manner of Wolves."

"Chee-hough! it's a terrible tale," said Magh.

"It is true," answered White Wolf; "and all that is the way of my land which is the Northland.

"In the Hot Time sometimes there are the little red flowers that are roses, but in the long Cold Time it is as I have said, cold and a land of much hunger. But it is my land--the Northland."

"Engh-h-hu!" sighed Sher Abi, opening his eyes as though just coming out of a dream; "I had an experience one time very much like that, Brother Wolf."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'LET ME IN, TOM; I AM JACK,' PLEADED THE HUNT MAN."]

"Of a snow storm, Sher Abi?" queried Mooswa, doubtingly.

"No, my solemn friend, I know nothing of snow; I speak of having a Man inside of one. As Sa'-zada has said, I think it's quite possible, and I'm sure they must rest nice and warm, too."

"Did a Man cut you open, Magar?" sneered Magh.

"No, little Old Woman, he did not; he was busy that day taking off your tail for stealing his plantains."

"Tell us about it, Magar," lisped Python. "Wolf's tale of his snow-land makes me s.h.i.+ver."

"There is not much to tell," murmured Sher Abi, regretfully. "It was all over in a few minutes, and all an accident, too; and, besides, it was only one Man. You see, I was sunning myself on a mud bank in Cherogeah Creek, when I heard 'thomp, thomp, thomp!' which was the sound of a Boatman's paddle against the side of his log dug-out. I slid backward into the water, keeping just one eye above it to see what manner of traveler it might be. It was old Lahbo, a villager who often went up and down that creek, so I started to swim across, meaning to come up alongside of his canoe and wish him the favor of Buddha. As you know, Comrades, all Animals love these Buddhists, for their Master has taught them not to take the life of any Jungle Dweller.

"As I have said, I was swimming across the creek, when Lahbo, who must have been asleep, suddenly ran his canoe up on my back. It was such a light little dug-out, too, quite narrow, and being suddenly startled, I jumped, and by some means Lahbo's canoe was upset. Poor old Lahbo! How my heart ached for him when I heard him scream in the water."

"Oh, the evil liar!" whispered Magh in Hathi's ear.

"Hush-h!" whistled Elephant, softly, through his trunk; "Sher Abi was ever like this; I know him well. It is just his way of boasting; he knows n.o.body believes it."

"Poor Lahbo," continued Magar. "I swam quickly to help him, picked him up tenderly in my jaws, and started for the sh.o.r.e. I would have saved his life in another minute, but his cries had gone to the ears of some Villagers, and they were now on the bank of the creek, and with two Firesticks, also. I was in a terrible fix, Comrades; if I held my head under water, poor Lahbo would drown; if I held it up, the Village Men would kill me with the Firestick."

"How did it end, Saver of Life?" asked Pardus. "Did poor Lahbo ask you to swallow him to save his life?"

"I really can't say what did happen," answered Sher Abi. "To this day tears come into my eyes when I think of poor Lahbo. And it was all the fault of the Villagers, for when the Firestick coughed, I think the Man-fear, that Hathi has spoken of, came over him, for he commenced to wriggle about so that I couldn't hold him. I was so careful, too, for my teeth are sharp, and I was afraid of hurting him. But, anyway, before I knew it, Ee-eh-he! he had slipped down my throat; poor Lahbo!

And do you know, Comrades, I'm a little afraid I'm not done with him yet, for he had a big two-handed dah (sword) in his waist-band, and I know that some of the pains I feel at times are due to that; there's nothing so hard to digest as a Burmese dah. And to this day, Comrades, sometimes when I'm jumping about it seems to me that bangles and rings that are inside of me string themselves on that sword--I fancy at times I can hear them jingle."

"How did you come to have bangles inside of you?" asked Magh most solicitously.

"Engh-hu! little Moon-face, you make me very tired. If any one tells a tale you try to put false words into his mouth."

"And bangles," snapped Magh.

"Who spoke of bangles?" asked Sher Abi. "I said not that they were bangles, but that it was like that--the pains I mean. Perhaps even Lahbo dropped the dah overboard, for all I know. And look here, little one, Moon-faced Languar, if you doubt what I say, you may go inside and see for yourself."

"How came you to this place, Sher Abi?" asked Mooswa. "Did the Villagers catch you then?"

"Not that time. But once, hearing a Pariah Dog in great distress, I thought he called to me for aid, even as poor Lahbo had done, so I swam quickly to lend him help----"

"Poor Dog," jeered Magh.

"But it was all a vile trick of the Men-kind," declared Magar; "though at the time, not knowing of this, I paid no heed to the matter. There were two long rows of stakes in the water coming close together at one end----"

"Lough-hu! I know," murmured Buffalo; "the walls of a stockade."

"Yes," sighed Sher Abi. "And as I pushed through the small end, the poor Dog being just beyond, and in great distress, a big rope drew tight about my neck, and before I could so much as object, many of the Men-kind pulled me out on to the dry land. Then I was sent here to Sa'-zada."

"Well, well," murmured Hathi, "it seems to me that every Jungle-Dweller thinks he's badly treated, but judging from all the tales I've heard I think we've all got our faults--I think we're nearly as bad as the Men-kind."

"My people are not," objected Buffalo; "we never did harm to anyone."

"Neither did we," exclaimed Mooswa.

"Nor we," added Elk; and soon the clamor became general, all holding that the Men-kind who killed almost every animal for the sake of taking its life, and not because they were driven to it by lean stomachs, were much worse than the Jungle-Dwellers.

"Well, well," decided Hathi, "it seems that most of you are against me, anyway. I think Buffalo is right in what he says, but some of us have done much wrong to the Men-kind----"

"Meaning me, of course," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Wild Boar. "I, who lay no claim to being good, and who am counted the worst of all Animals, say, with Buffalo, that the Men-kind have done more harm to me than I to them, and have been of less benefit to me than I to them."

Then Sa'-zada spoke: "Comrades, this is a question that we can't settle. If we were all like the Buddhists, and took no life except because of great need, perhaps it would be better. But now you must all go back to your cages and corrals to sleep."

Twelfth Night