The Sa'-Zada Tales Part 24

"And what of that--Waugh-houk! what of that, Little Master?" demanded Raj Bagh. "Have not many people killed many of my kind--are they not always killing us?"

"Still the Little Master is right," objected Hathi. "If a Bull Elephant becomes Rogue, and, neglecting his proper eating which is in the Jungle, goes seeking to kill the Men-kind, does he not surely come into trouble?"

"But we be flesh eaters and slayers of life," answered Raj Bagh.

"Even so, though that were better otherwise, but do you not know of your own people that the Men-kind are not for Kill? Before all other Dwellers of the Jungle you stand forth and are ready to battle, but just the _scent_ of Man causes you to slink away like Jaruk the Hyena."

"I think that is true," commented Mooswa. "Wie-sah-ke-chack has arranged all that."

Said the Keeper: "It is not right to kill the animals as men do, for sport, but when Bagh, or any other Jungle Dweller, turns Man-eater, he should die."

"And Sher Abi, too," squeaked Magh; "his tribe are all Man-eaters--they should be all killed."

"At any rate," continued the Keeper, "I was after this Man-eater. I had a _machan_ built in a Pipal tree, and a Buffalo calf tied up near it----"

"One of your young, Arna," said Bagh, vindictively.

"And early in the evening I climbed into my _machan_ and prepared for Mister Stripes."

"That's Man's way," sneered Raj Bagh. "What chance have we against them up in a _machan_? No chance; and they call that sport."

"And what chance has a village woman against a big-fanged Tiger?"

grunted Boar. "No chance. It seems to me there are few in the Jungle as decent as Hathi and myself; we meddle not with the Men."

"Just before dark," continued Sa'-zada, "I heard a noise coming through the Khir bushes. 'Bagh comes early,' I thought to myself."

"He must have been hungry to scent a kill before dark," muttered Raj Bagh.

"He smelt a man and thought it a good chance to commit murder," sneered Magh.

"It wasn't Tiger at all," said the Keeper, "but three noisy Black Bears--Bhalu the Bear. I thought they would soon pa.s.s, for they do not meddle much with cattle."

"No, we are not throat cutters like Bagh," whuffed Muskwa.

"But they seemed in an inquisitive mood. Now, the calf was tied to the foot of a toddy palm, and they looked at him as much as to say, 'What are you doing here?'"

"I would have explained matters to them had I been there," exclaimed Arna, shaking his head. "A poor Calf!"

"No doubt they meant to help him out of his trouble," volunteered Muskwa.

"Presently one of them proceeded to climb the toddy palm, and I thought they were looking for me perhaps. On the tree was a jar the natives had put there for catching the toddy liquor; and you can imagine my surprise, Comrades, when I saw Bhalu take a big drink out of this. When he came down one of his comrades went up. There were half-a-dozen toddy trees there, and the Bears helped themselves to the toddy until in the end they became very drunk."

"I know how that feels," said Oungea the Water Monkey; "have I not told you, Comrades, of the gin my Master----"

"Caw-w-w, caw-w-w!" interrupted Crow. "I also know of that condition. I ate some cherries once that had been thrown from a bungalow in Calcutta, and they made my head wobble so I couldn't fly. A Sahib stood in the door and laughed and said I was drunk."

"The cherries had been in brandy, I suppose," explained Sa'-zada. "But Bhalu was most unmistakably drunk. They wanted to play with the Calf, but he became frightened and bawled. I could see there was small chance of a visit from Bagh with three drunken Bears and a bellowing Calf at the foot of my tree."

"This is a nice story, Muskwa," sneered Magh. "I'm so glad to hear of your people and their ways."

"Only cousins of mine," declared Muskwa, "and called Bhalu."

"All Bears are alike," snapped Coyote; "meddlesome thieves."

"They steal little Pigs," added Boar.

"They wouldn't go away," said Sa'-zada, "and I began to fear that I shouldn't get a shot at Stripes. I did not want to shoot, because if Tiger was anywhere in the neighborhood it would put an end to his visit. I had nothing heavy to throw at them except my water-bottle; but, finally, taking a long drink to keep the thirst away for a time, I stood up in the _machan_ and let fly the bottle. It caught the Bear just behind the ear, and Bhalu, thinking one of his comrades had hurt him, pitched into the other two, and there was a fierce three-cornered fight on in a minute."

"I can swear that it is a true tale," barked Gidar, "for twice I've seen a family of Bhalu's people in just such a stupid fight. Not that they were possessed of toddy, for they are silly enough at all times.

But it is known in the Jungle that when Bhalu is wounded, he fights with the first one he sees, even his own brother, thinking he has done him the harm."

"One chap got the worst of the encounter and reeled off into the Jungle, the other two following. I could hear them wrangling and snarling for a long distance--all the world like a party of drunken sailors."

"These Bear stories are just lovely," grinned Magh. "Aren't they, Muskwa?"

"Did you kill Bagh, the Man-eater?" asked Muskwa, to change the subject.

"Yes, I stopped his murderous career that night," answered Sa'-zada.

"He was an evil animal and deserved to die. Now it is late and you must all go to your cages."

"I'm glad your people had a chance to be heard from, Muskwa," lisped Magh as she slid down Hathi's trunk. "You always looked so terribly respectable and honest, that I was really afraid to speak to you."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "BHALU ... PITCHED INTO THE OTHER TWO."]

"Phrut, phrut!" muttered Hathi through his trunk; "I have lived for a matter of forty years or so, amongst the Jungle Dwellers and with the Men-kind, and I think that we are all alike, all having some good and some bad qualities."

THE END