The Sa'-Zada Tales

"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 pushing 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 passed 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."

"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 shiver."

"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 nobody believes it."

"Poor Lahbo," continued Magar. "I swam quickly to help him, picked him up tenderly in my jaws, and started for the shore. 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," ejaculated 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

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 anticipation. 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 grass with his back against Mooswa's side.

"Well, Comrades," he commenced, "before I came to a state of friendship 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 hoarse 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," asserted 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 Grass," 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 shifting 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 hoarse 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 grass Eating, and to that our enemies the Men passed. 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 passed 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 Pass. 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. But go on, Little Master – tell us of this happening."

"As I was saying," recommenced Sa'-zada, "when Eagle Child in his great eagerness started after that Bear, I had an idea there would be fun, and there was – though I must say that I followed up to give him some help."

"There was no harm in that," said Grizzly, magnanimously. "Comrades of the same kind must help each other."

"That Eagle Child had ridden up to meet the Grizzly was in itself a fair promise for excitement, but also his Cayuse was one of the jerkiest brutes ever ridden by anybody. He had a great dislike for spurs."

"Quite right, too," bubbled Unt the Camel; "I remember a Cavalry Man on my back once – "

Sa'-zada interrupted Camel, and continued: "A dig from the spurs and the Cayuse would refuse to budge; but, of course, the rider knew that.

"Eagle Child thought that the Bear was working down in a certain direction, but, as you know, Comrades, Muskwa is a fellow of many notions, turning and twisting and changing his course beyond all calculations."

"Yes, we are like that," assented Muskwa. "It is our manner of life. We find our food in small parts, and in many places – berries here, and Ants there, and perhaps Honey on the other side. We are not like Bagh, who goes straight for his Kill, for we must keep a sharp lookout or we shall find nothing."

"Well, Grizzly evidently turned, for, while my Guide was looking for him in one direction, he bounced out not ten yards from the Cayuse from a totally different quarter. This rather startled Eagle Child; and, though he should have known better, he dug the silly spurs into his erratic tempered Horse, with the result that the latter balked – bucked up like a stubborn mule.

"This looked as though he meant to stop and fight it out – the Grizzly evidently thought so, for he gave a snort of rage and tore down the mountain full at his enemy. I dared not shoot for fear of striking my comrade; but one bullet wouldn't have mattered, anyway; it wouldn't have stopped the charging Grizzly. Luckily for Eagle Child, his Horse reared just as the Bear arrived, and though he was sent flying, Muskwa's cousin did not succeed in clawing him, his time being taken up in making little pieces of the Horse. Eagle Child arrived at the foot of the mountain very rapidly, for all this had happened at the top of a long shale cut bank, and he did not look for smooth paths, but just came away without regard to the means of transport."

"And is that all of the tale?" inquired Magh, with a rather disappointed air, for she had hoped to hear of Muskwa's getting the worst of the encounter.

"Not by any means," answered Sa'-zada; "that was but the beginning. My comrade being out of the way," he continued, "I fired at Grizzly."

"To kill him?" exclaimed Mooswa, reproachfully.

"That was before I was comrade to the Jungle Dwellers," apologized the Keeper – "before I knew they were more interesting alive than dead. And I fear I struck him, too," he added, "for when he had finished knocking the Horse to pieces we saw him go up the side of the Camel's Back limping as though a leg had been broken."

"That was a shame," declared Mooswa.

"It would have been a great shame, an outrage," asserted Bagh, "if I, or Pardus, or even Hathi had broken the leg of a Man; we would have been hunted by a drove of twenty Elephants, and many of the Men-kind."

"But," objected Magh, "as Sa'-zada has said, that was before he had proper wisdom, so we bear him no malice. Even Muskwa does not, do you, old Shaggy Sides?"

"No, I did not know the law of life then," said the Keeper; "and Eagle Child and myself followed after poor old wounded Grizzly and in our hearts was a desire for his life. Eagle Child was cross because I had laughed at him when he came down all covered with mud, also he had lost a Horse. He swore that he would kill that Bear if it took a week."

"I know," commented Hathi, swinging his trunk sideways and lifting Jaruk off his feet with a blow in the ribs as if by accident. "I hate the smell of that Jungle Scavenger," he confided to Magh in a whisper. "I know," he continued aloud, "I've heard the Sahibs swear often, over a less matter than the killing of a Horse, too."

"We thought that Grizzly was badly wounded and couldn't go far, and that we should soon come within range of him up amongst the rocks."

"Of course, he went up, having a broken leg," declared Pardus; "that's the way with all Forest Dwellers – one pitches going down on three legs."

"But it was getting late, so we hurried fast. I had tied my Horse to a tree, for the climb was steep. Up, up, up we went; sometimes catching sight of Grizzly, sometimes seeing a drop of blood – "

"Dreadful," whimpered Mooswa. "Why should Men be so eager to see the blood of Forest Dwellers who have not harmed them?"

"Sometimes we saw blood on the rocks," proceeded Sa'-zada, "and sometimes we followed Grizzly's trail by the mark of a stone upturned where his strong claws had been planted. Once I got another shot at him, and struck him, too, but, as Greybeard here might tell you, a Grizzly is like Arna, he can carry off the matter of twenty bullets unless they happen upon his heart or brain."

"That is even so," concurred Grizzly. "Whuff! I have at least a dozen in my own body. The Men seek to improve our tempers after that manner."

"It was getting late," resumed Sa'-zada, "but still we continued upward, the Bear holding on with great strength. It was October, and in the hollows of the upper ranges snow was lying like a white apron in a nurse's lap. 'He went this way,' said the guide to me, pointing to a narrow ledge of rock around the side of a cliff, with a drop from it of a thousand feet.