The Sa'-Zada Tales Part 22

The Story of Sa'-Zada, "Zoo" Keeper

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

TWELFTH NIGHT

THE STORY OF SA'-ZADA, THE "ZOO" KEEPER

It was the twelfth night of the Sa'-zada stories. For eleven evenings Tiger, and Leopard, and the others had told of their manner of life, with more or less relevancy. This night Sa'-zada, the little Master, was to speak of his jungle and forest experience.

Magh, the Orang, was filled with a joyous antic.i.p.ation. Perched as usual on Hathi's broad forehead, she gave expression to little squeaks of enjoyment.

Once even she stuck out her long, elastic under-lip and broke into the little jungle song she always had resource to when pleasantly excited:

"Co-oo-oo-oo-oo! Co-wough, wough-oo!" with a rising inflection that made the listener's ears tingle. She even danced a modest can-can on Hathi's patient old head.

The Keeper came briskly up the walk, and patting Hathi's trunk affectionately as it was held out to him, sat on the gra.s.s with his back against Mooswa's side.

"Well, Comrades," he commenced, "before I came to a state of friends.h.i.+p with the Jungle Dwellers, I was like a great many others of my kind, and thought the only pleasure to be got from animals was in killing them."

"It is the beginning of a true talk," commented Pardus.

"And, so, in that time I hunted a great deal," continued Sa'-zada.

"When I first went to Burma to live, my bungalow was just on the edge of the Jungle, and some of the Dwellers were always forcing their presence upon me--either Snakes, or Jackals, or Jaruk the Hyena, or the Bandar-Log; and one night even a Rogue Elephant----"

"Hum-p-p-ph! he should have been prodded with a sharp tusk," commented Hathi.

"A Rogue Elephant," continued Sa'-zada, "came down and played basket-ball with my garden and bamboo cook-house. Gidar the Jackal, with a dozen companions, used to gut my kitchen, and then sit out in the moonlight and howl at me in derision."

"We sing at night because we can't help it, and not because of ill will to the Men-kind," corrected Gidar.

"Well, one night, as the Jackals were in the middle of a heavy chorus, they suddenly ceased; a silence as of death came over everything; it seemed as though all life had gone miles away from that part of the country. Then came a hoa.r.s.e call which shook my little bungalow----"

"I know," interrupted Gidar, "when we stop singing and move away silently it is to make room for Bagh the Killer. We object to being seen in the company of a murderer like that."

"Yes, it was Tiger," a.s.serted Sa'-zada, "and two Sahibs, who were my companions, and, like myself, new to the country, determined to get him.

"So next evening we took a Goat and tied it just inside the Jungle, each one of us lying down on the ground at a short distance from our bait. But the Goat commenced to browse quietly and refused to bleat. I tried jumping him up and down by the tail and back of his neck, and he'd bleat just as long as I'd pump. At last I tied him up so that he stood on his hind legs, and he called then with full vigor. For the matter of an hour we lay thus, when presently, behind me, I heard the stealthy step of some huge Jungle Dweller coming for the Goat.

"It was the most deliberate animal I had ever waited for; it seemed hours that those carefully planted feet had been heading towards the back of my head. I could see nothing, for I was facing the other way, and I dared not turn over for fear of frightening the approaching Tiger away. This is a true tale, Comrades, and I did not like overmuch the idea of Bagh or Pardus, whichever it might be, pouncing upon me from behind."

"And they would do it," declared Gidar, "for there is a saying in their tribe that 'a kill from behind is a kill of skill.'"

"Were you afraid, little Master?" asked Hathi.

"I didn't like it," answered Sa'-zada, evasively.

"I've lain close hid in the Elephant Gra.s.s," said Bagh, "when a mighty drive of the Sahibs was on; and perhaps you felt that time, O Sa'-zada, even as I did."

"I, too, have heard the Pigstickers galloping, galloping all about a little _nulla_ where I have sought for safety and the chance of my life," added Wild Boar, "and it's dreadful. If all the Sahibs could have known that feeling, even as you did, O Sa'-zada, perhaps they would hunt us less."

"Perhaps," answered the Keeper; "but I could hear the great animal creeping, oh, so carefully, step by step, hardly a twig s.h.i.+fting under his cautious feet--only a little soft rustle of the leaves as they whispered to the sleepy night air that something of evil was afoot. It got on my nerves, I must say, for I knew that I had not one chance in a thousand if Bagh were to spring upon me from behind. A fair fight I did not mind. I dared not even whisper to my companions, for they were a short distance from me, lest I should frighten the quarry away. When the soft-moving feet were within five yards of my head they became silent, and I felt that the great animal, Bagh or Pardus, or some other Killer, was crouched ready for a spring.

"One minute, two minutes, an hour--perhaps half the night I seemed waiting for something to happen. The suspense was dreadful. One of my comrades had heard the footsteps, too, for I could see his rifle gleam in the moonlight as he held it ready to fire at sight of the animal.

The strain was so trying that I almost wished Bagh would charge.

"But at last my nerves got the better of me and I turned over on my face, bringing my Express up to receive the visitor. The noise startled him, and with a hoa.r.s.e bark he was off into the Jungle. It was only little ribbed-faced Barking Deer, who had come out of curiosity to see what the Goat was making a row about."

Hathi gave a great sigh of relief, for the Little Master's story of thrilling danger had worked him up to a pitch of excited interest.

"I remember a little tale of a happening," said Arna the Buffalo. "We were a herd of at least twenty, lying in a bit of nice, soft muddy land, for it was a wondrous hot day, I remember, when suddenly right through the midst of us walked a Sahib, and with him was one of the Black Men-kind. By his manner I knew that he had not seen us, being half-buried as we were in the _jhil_. Just beyond where we rested was a plain of the dry gra.s.s Eating, and to that our enemies the Men pa.s.sed.

Comrades, the method of our doing you know, when there is danger. If it is far away, and we see it, we go quickly from its presence, as is right for all Jungle Dwellers; but should it come suddenly close upon us we fight with a strength that even Bagh dreads.

"As I have said, seeing the Sahib so close, our Leader sprang up and snorted in anger. Now Bagh, when he is in an evil temper, roars loudly; but we, being people of little voice, trusting more to our horns than to noise, only call 'Eng-ugh!' before we charge. So, when our Leader called twice, we rushed out into the field where was this Sahib. I remember well, the Black man ran with great speed across the Plain, but the Sahib faced us. In his eyes there was a look such as I have seen in the eyes of another Bull when I have challenged him, and it was a question whether we should fight or not.

"But fear came not to this Man," added Arna, decidedly, "for as we raced down upon him, he smote at us with his Firestick, and taking the cover that was on his head----"

"His helmet," suggested Sa'-zada.

"The cover in his hand," proceeded Arna, "charged full at us, calling us evil names in a loud voice. I know not which of us turned in his gallop, but certain it is that the herd pa.s.sed on either side of the Man and he was not hurt."

"But did you not turn and trample him?" asked Boar.

"No," answered Arna; "when we charge we charge, and there's an end of it."

"That is also our way," concurred Bagh, "except, perhaps, when we are struck by the Firestick, then sometimes we turn and charge back."

"By-the-memory-of-honey!" said Muskwa the Bear, "I should like to hear a tale from Sa'-zada of my people."

"Well," declared the Keeper, "there was a happening in connection with Muskwa's cousin, Grizzly, that makes me tremble--I mean, calls up rather unpleasant memories to this day."

"I'm glad of that--Whuf! glad we're to have the story," corrected Muskwa, apologetically.

"It was in the Rocky Mountains," began Sa'-zada, "in the South Kootenay Pa.s.s. I was after Big Horn, the Mountain Sheep, with two Comrades, and a guide called Eagle Child, when we saw a big Grizzly coming down the side of a mountain called the Camel's Back.

"Now, Eagle Child was a man very eager to do big things, so, almost without asking my consent, he laid out the whole plan of campaign. On the side of the Camel's Back Mountain grew a spruce forest, and through this snow avalanches had ploughed roadways, from top to bottom, looking like the streets of a city. Eagle Child called to me as he forded the mountain stream on his Horse that he would go up one of these snow roads and get the Grizzly, or turn him down another one for me.

"Now, Comrades, Muskwa here is a man of peace, loving his honey and his Ants, but Grizzly is one to interview with great caution, and my Comrade, Eagle Child, being a man of unwise haste, you will understand, Comrades, that I expected strange happening when he started to interfere with Grizzly's evening plans, for it was toward the end of the day."

"It is not wise to meddle with one of a short temper," declared Hathi.

"I am not one of a short temper," objected Grizzly. "I seek a quarrel with no one; but, perhaps, if this man, who was Sa'-zada's comrade, sought to make a kill of one of our kind, there may have been trouble.

If I am of a great strength why is that--is it so that I may be killed easily? Have I not strong claws just as Bagh has his teeth, and Boar his tusks, and Python his strength of squeeze?--even also have I somewhat of a squeeze myself. And shall I not use these things that I have, as do the other Forest Dwellers when their desire is to live? I am not like Elk that can gallop fast--flee from a slayer. And so, if I, being strong, fight for my life, it is temper, eh? Wough! I am as I am.