Part 7

"Also, there was a guava tree in the compound, and our friend ate all the guavas just as they ripened, so no one but Cocky got any of the fruit. That he was always fighting with Jock, her Scotch Terrier, and the clamor fair made her head ache."

"Whatever Sa'-zada reads from The Book is most certainly true," commented Magh.

"I've been thinking," began the Adjutant, solemnly----

"You look like it," growled Wolf.

"Of a story about Kauwa," continued the Adjutant----

"He stole three silver spoons from my Mem-Sahib," interrupted Cocky hastily, suddenly remembering the incident, "and hid them in the Dog-cart, where they were found next day; which shows that he is neither wise nor honest."

"Mine is a true tale," declared Adjutant, with great dignity. "One morning, looking calmly over the great city to see that all had been tidied up, I saw my little black friend, whose voice is like unto the squeak of a Bullock-cart, crouched in an open window, with wings well spread ready for flight.

"'A new piece of thieving,' thought I, and, drawing closer, I saw Kauwa hop to the floor, pass over to a bed on which slept a Sahib, and gently take a slice of toast from the top of a cup; then away went the thief.

"But the full wickedness was later, for when the Sahib awoke he spoke to his servant in the manner which Cockatoo has related of the ship. And when the other, who was of the Black Kind, declared he had put the toast beside his Master, the Sahib beat him for a liar. Even three mornings did Kauwa take the toast; but on the fourth the Sahib, who was pretending to sleep, nearly broke his back with the cast of a boot."

"Jungle Dwellers are Jungle Dwellers, and City Dwellers are City Dwellers," commenced Hornbill, gravely, "and I'm so glad I'm a Jungle Dweller. These tales show what city life is like. Save for an occasional row with Magh's friends, Hanuman and the rest, whose stomachs are out of all proportion to the quantity of fruit to be had, I have led a very peaceful life in the Jungle."

"Tell me," queried Magh, maliciously, "do your Young roost on your nose?"

"No; that is to keep inquisitive folks at a distance. And, talking of Young, when my wife has laid her two big eggs in a hole in some tree, I shut her up there with the eggs--make her stay home to mind the house and the oncoming family. I plaster up the hole with mud, leaving just a place for her sharp beak; this to keep the Monkeys from stealing her and the eggs."

"Kaw-aw-aw! Talking of nests," said Kauwa, "when I was in Calcutta I designed a nest that would last forever--yes, forever. Each year before that time, because of the monsoon winds, my nest had always been destroyed; but the time I speak of, having a job on hand----"

"On beak, you mean!" laughed Sa'-zada.

"Aw-haw!--to clean up about a cook-house behind a certain place of the Sahib's in which they bottled water of a fierce strength--as I say, being busy in this same compound, I spied many, many twigs of wire."

"What's wire?" asked Mooswa; "I've never, that I know of, eaten such twigs."

Sa'-zada explained, "Kauwa means bottled soda water, I fancy, and the wire from the corks."

"A thought came to me," continued Kauwa, "to build my nest of these bright little things, and I did, first getting my mate's opinion on the matter, of course. Dead Pigs! but it _was_ a nest! We would swing, and jump, and hang to it by our beaks, and never a break in the wall. But I had forgotten all about the selfish desire of the Men--but that was after. The first trouble was when Cuckoo--a proper _budmash_ bird she is--came and laid two eggs in the nest. I saw the difference in the eggs at once, but my mate declared that they were all her own laying. She took rather a pride in her ability to lay eggs--to tell you the truth, we quarreled over it."

"I believe that," yawned Adjutant.

"However, she had her way, and started to hatch out these foreign devils; but the Men, as I have said, seeing my beautiful nest, sent a Man of low caste up the tree, and he took it away, Cuckoo eggs and all. It was a good joke on the Cuckoo Bird, and I was so mad at the way everything turned out, Caw-ha! I never made it again."

"I can swallow a plantain at one gulp," said Hornbill proudly.

"Why do you toss it up first?" asked Sa'-zada, alluding to the peculiar habit the Hornbill has of throwing everything into the air, and catching it as he swallows it.

"It's all in the way of slow eating," answered Hornbill.

"Now," said Myna, "it is surely my turn. I, Myna, who was the pride of the Calcutta Zoo in the matter of speech, have sat here like a Tucktoo not saying a word, and listening to such as Cockatoo boasting about the few paltry oaths he picked up from the Sailor-kind. Why, damn your eyes, sir----"

And before Sa'-zada could still the tumult, Cockatoo and Myna, the best talking Bird of all India, were hurling the most unparliamentary language at each other that had ever been bandied about a Bird gathering.

When Sa'-zada had stopped the indelicate scolding of the two Birds Myna proceeded to tell of his life.

"I was born in the Burma hills, amongst the Shans. That's where I got my beautiful blue-black coat and lovely yellow beak."

"Modest Bird," sneered Magh.

"It was Mah Thin who snared me; but she was good to me, though--rice and fruit, all I could eat; and she never once forgot to put the turmeric and ground chillies in my rice; for, you know, if I did not get something hot in my food I'd soon die. I was somewhat like Cockatoo in that a Ship-man bought me and took me to Calcutta. He made me a most wise bird, and taught me many clever sayings. And when he was in Calcutta with his ship I would be put in the Zoo, so that the Sahibs from all parts might hear my speech.

"One day Tom--that was my master's name; he taught me to call him Tom--said to me, 'To-morrow the _Lat_ Sahib, the Sirdar, and many ladies are coming to hear you talk; Myna.' Then he made me repeat over and over again, 'Good-morning, your Excellency.'"

"It was a hard word he gave you," commented Magh.

"It was indeed. Let claw-nosed Cockatoo try it; he thinks he can talk--let him try that."

"Avast there, you lubber----" commenced Cocky, but Sa'-zada stopped him.

"Well, I said it over and over, and over again, and Tom was so pleased he gave me a graft mango to eat. Next day the Viceroy and many Mem-Sahibs and Sahibs gathered about my cage, and the Viceroy said, 'Good-morning, Polly.' Now this made me mad--to be called Polly, as though I had a hooked nose like Cockatoo; and in my anger I got excited, and, for-the-love-of-hot-spiced-rice, I couldn't think of what Tom had told me to say.

"'Speak up!' said Tom.

"In my anger, and forgetting the other thing, and seeing so many strange faces against the very bars of my cage, I blurted out, 'I'll see you damned first!' just as the sailors used to teach me."

"Caw-haw-haw-haw! Very funny, indeed. Next to a fat bone, or the hiding of a silver spoon, I like a joke myself," commented Kauwa. "Once at the first edge of the Hot Time I went to Simla. That was also at the time of the going of the Sahibs, but after Calcutta it was dull--fair stupid.

"One morning, as I was feeling most lonesome, I spied a long row of queer little Donkeys standing with their tails to a fence. They had brought loads of brick. I flew to the fence, and reaching far down, pulled the tail of my first Donkey. Much food! but he did kick--it made me laugh. I pulled the tail of every Donkey of the line, and when I had finished there wasn't a board left on the fence. Then the Man who was master of the fence, and the one that was master of the Donkeys, fought over this matter, and pulled each about by the feathers that were on their heads. It was the only real pleasant day I had in Simla."

"Did-you-do-it!" screamed the Redwattled Lapwing, suddenly roused to animation by falling off Mooswa's back, where he had been trying to balance himself with his poor front-toed feet.

"Caw-w-w! I did; and for three grains of corn I'd pull your tail, too."

"I wasn't speaking to you," retorted Titiri the Lapwing; "I was dreaming of my old home in India--dreaming that the hunters had come into the rice fields to shoot the poor Paddy Birds and Bakula (Egret) for their feathers."

"Murderers, you should call them, not Hunters," exclaimed Hathi. "It makes me sniff in my nose now when I think of the Birds I've seen murdered, just for their feathers."

"It's an outrageous shame," declared Sa'-zada.

"I did all I could," asserted Lapwing. "When I saw the Gun-men coming, sneaking along, crouched like Pardus----"

"Sneaking like Pardus--go on, Good Bird!" chimed in Magh.

"I flew just ahead of them, and cried 'Tee-he-he! Here come the Murderers!' so that every bird in all the _jhils_ about could hear me. And when Bakula, and Kowar the Ibis, and all the others had flown to safety, I shouted, 'Did-you-do-it, did-you-do-it!' Then the Men used language much like the disgraceful talk we have had from Cocky and Myna to-night."

"You carried a heavy responsibility," remarked Sa'-zada.

"All lies," sneered Kauwa. "Fat Bones! why, he can't even sit on the limb of a tree."

"That is because of my feet," sighed Lapwing. "I have no toes behind."

"Where do you sleep?" asked Magh.

"On the ground," answered Lapwing.

"That's so," declared Sa'-zada, "for the Natives of the East say that Titiri sleeps on his back, and holds up the sky with his feet."

"But why should the Men kill Birds for a few feathers?" croaked Vulture. "I don't believe it. Nobody asked me for one of mine. In fact the great trouble of all eating is the feathers or skin."

"Whe-eh-eh!" exclaimed Ostrich, disgustedly. "Pheu! your feathers! Even your head looks like a boiled Lobster. They do not kill me--the Men--but I know they are crazy for feathers, for they pull mine all out. Some day I'll give one of them a kick that will cure him of his feather fancy. I did rake one from beak to feet once with my strong toe nail. When I bring a foot up over my head and down like this----"

As Ostrich swung his leg every one skurried out of the way, for they knew it was like a sword descending.

"Yes," cried Magh, "if you only had a brain the size of that toe-nail----"

"Stop it!" cried Sa'-zada, for this was an unpleasant truth; Ostrich, though such a huge fellow himself, has a brain about the size of a Humming Bird's.

"Talking of Wives," said Ostrich, with the most extraordinary irrelevance, "mine died when I was twenty-seven years old; and, of course, as it is the way with us Birds, I never took up with another, though I've seen the most beautifully feathered ones of our Kind--quite enough to make one's mouth water.

"She had queer ways, to be sure--my wife. As you all know, our way of hatching eggs is turn about, the Mother Birds sitting all day, while we Lords of the Nest sit at night. But my wife would take notions sometimes and not sit at all. In that case I always sat night and day until the job was finished. By-a-sore-breast-bone! but making a nest in the hard-graveled desert is a job to be avoided."

"Sore knuckles!" exclaimed Magh, "where are we at? We were talking of feathers."

"So we were, so we were," decided Mooswa. "And what I want to know is, do the Men eat the feathers they hunt for?"

"Oh, Jungle Dwellers!" exclaimed Magh; "if you were to sit in my cage for half a day you would see what they do with them. The Women come there with their heads covered with all kinds of feathers, red, and green, and blue--Silly! how would I look with my head stuck full of funny old feathers?"

"Like the Devil!" exclaimed Sa'-zada.

"Like a Woman," retorted Magh. "And their hair is so pretty, too. I've seen red hair just like mine, and then to cover it up with a crest of feathers like Cockatoo wears; I'd be ashamed of the thing."

"It's a sin to murder the Birds," whimpered Mooswa; "that's the worst part of it."

"Tonk, tonk, tonk!" came a noise just like a small Boy striking an iron telegraph post with a stick. It was the small Coppersmith Bird clearing his throat. Very funny the green pudgy little chap looked with his big black mustaches.

"The Men are great thieves," he asserted. "When I was a chick my Mother taught me to stick my tail under my wings for fear they would steal the feathers as I slept."

"Steal tail feathers!" screamed Eagle; "I should say they would. Out in the West, where was my home, when a Man becomes a great Chief he sticks three of my tail feathers in his hair; and when the Head Chief of a great Indian tribe rises up to make a big talk, what does he hold in his hand? The things that are bright like water-drops----"

"Diamond rings," exclaimed Sa'-zada, interrupting.

"No; he holds one of my wings to show that he is great."

"Yes, you are the King Bird, Eagle," concurred Sa'-zada, "the emblem of our country."

"I can break a lamb's back with my talons," assented Eagle, ignoring the sublime disdainfully, "but I wouldn't trust my nest within reach of any Man--they're a lot of thieves."

"Nice feathers are a great trouble," asserted Sparrow; "I'm glad I haven't any."

"What difference does it make?" cried Quail; "the Men kill me, and I'm sure I'm not gaudy."

"You're good eating, though," chuckled Gidar the Jackal. "After a day's shoot of the Men-kind, the scent from their cook-house is fair maddening. Oh-h-h, ki-yi! I've had many a Quail bone in my time."

"Even Lapwing can't save _us_ from the Hunters," lamented Quail; "they play us such vile tricks. I've seen a rice field with a dozen bamboos stuck in it, and on top of each bamboo a cage with a tame Cock Quail; and in the center, hidden away, sat a man with a little drum which he tapped with his fingers. And the drum would whistle 'peep, peep, peep,' and the Birds in the cages would go 'peep, peep, peep,' and we Cock Birds of the Jungle, thinking it a challenge to battle, would answer back, 'peep, peep, peep,' and go seeking out these strange Birds who were calling for fight. Of course, our Wives would go with us to see the battle, and in the end all would be snared or shot by the deceitful Men."

"That's almost worse than being taken for one's feathers," said Egret. "I'm glad they don't eat me."

"No Mussulman would eat you, Buff Egret," said Gidar the Jackal. "It's because of your habit of picking ticks off the Pigs."

"Some Birds do have vile habits," declared Crow. "Paddy Bird has a Brother in Burma who gets drunk on the Men's toddy."

"I doubt if that be true," said Sa'-zada, "though he is really called 'Bacchus' in the science books."

Said Myna, "Of all Birds, I think the Jungle Fowl are the worst. The Cocks do nothing but fight, fight, all the time--fight, and then get up in a tree and crow about it, as though it were to their credit."

Said Kauwa the Crow, "When one of our family becomes quarrelsome, or a great nuisance, we hold a meeting--I have seen even a thousand Crows at such meetings--hear all there is to say about him, and then if it appears that he is utterly bad we beat him to death."

"Tub-full-of-bread!" exclaimed Hathi, sleepily, "it's my opinion that all Birds should be on their roosts--it's very late."

"And roost high, too," said Magh, "for Coyote and Gidar have been licking their chops for the last hour. I've watched them. And lock Python up, O Sa'-zada, for high roosts won't save them from him."

"All to bed, all to bed!" cried the Keeper. "To-morrow night we'll have some more tales."

The last cry heard on the sleepy night air after all were safely in their cages was Cockatoo's "Avast there, you lubber!" as Myna, sticking his saucy yellow beak through the bars of his cage, called across to him, "Want a glass of grog, Polly?"

Eighth Night

The Stories of Buffalo and Bison

EIGHTH NIGHT

THE STORIES OF BUFFALO AND BISON

This evening the whole Buffalo herd had come out of the park to the meeting-place in front of Chita's cage; even their brother, the Indian Bison, was there, as also was the true Buffalo, Bos Bubalus.

Said Sa'-zada, opening his book: "We should learn much this evening, for Buffalo and Bison are to tell us of their lives. But first, let me put you all right as to their names. Those we have called Buffalo, from our own western prairies, are not Buffalo at all, but Bison, half-brother of Gaur, who also lives in India, where the true Buffalo comes from."

"It does not matter," said Buff, the prairie Bison, "it does not matter what I'm called, seems to me, for all my life I have been most badly treated. Why, it seems no time since I was a calf, one of a mighty herd, on the sweet-grassed prairie, and in those days I thought there was nothing in the world like being a Buffalo.

"The first touch of danger I remember came in this way. The herd had tracked, one after another, all walking in the same narrow path, down to a hollow in which was water. I was feeling frisky, and, seeing something move, something that seemed very like a calf, smaller than myself, I ran after it, cocking my tail, kicking my heels in the air, and thinking it great sport; for, Comrades, the great weakness of all grass-feeders is an idle curiosity."

"And did all this happen when you had your tail kinked in the air, that time you were a silly calf?" jibed Magh, holding a peanut out on her under lip, and looking down at it very sedately, as though the subject were of little interest.

"I'll tell you my story in my own way," declared Buff. "The thing that I followed was like a grey shadow, and slipped about with no noise, but when I came close to it, with a vicious snarl it sprang up, and also there were three others hidden in the grass. Much milk! but I became afraid, and I believe I bawled. Just then I felt the ground tremble, and a dozen of the herd galloped towards me with their heads down. It was a wolf, and help came just in time, for the big fangs of the fierce brute cut my hind leg a little where he sought to hamstring me.

"Then Mother explained, first bunting me soundly with her forehead, then licking me with her coarse tongue, that these Wolves were always following up the Herd, trying to catch a Calf, or sick Cow, or old Bull, to one side."

"We have Wolves in India, too," said Arna, "and Chita the Leopard, and Bagh the Tiger. Blood drinkers! but we have many enemies there; even Cobra will hardly get out of the way seeking to carry to one's blood his sudden death. There are no animals so ill used, I believe, as Buffalo.

"One has need of big Horns in the heart of the Jungle. Why, mine measure nine feet and a half from tip to tip across my forehead. And see the strength of them, fully the size of Bagh's leg--for I am a Curly Horn, which means one of great strength. Never have I locked Horns with a Bull that I have not twisted his neck till he bellowed. Eugh-hu, eugh! Next to lying in muddy water with one's nose just peeping out, there's nothing so pleasant as a trial of strength. And with all respect to Hathi's handiness of trunk, I must say I prefer good, stout Horns. When Bagh or Pardus come sneaking about, there's nothing like a long reach.

"Hear that, friends," said Magh. "Here's a traveler from Panther's own land calls him a sneak. He, he he! now we shall get at the truth."

"Yes," said Gaur, the Bison; "Panther and all his tribe are sneaks. They murdered a Calf of mine. To be sure, it was the Wife's Calf, for had I been there at the time I'd have fixed him. She had just lain down to rest for the night, and the Calf was a little to one side, and this evil-spotted thing, Panther of the Red Kind, came sneaking up the wind like a proper Jungle Cat. He knew I was away, for he has the cunning of Cobra, and how was the mother to know that any danger threatened? He stole like a shadow close to the poor little Calf, and with a rush jumped on his back and bit his neck, breaking it, and cutting it so the red blood ran his life all out in a little while."

"I was born in Mardian," remarked Arna, the Buffalo, "many years ago; and save for the loss of a Calf, through Chita or Bagh's treachery, or perhaps a lone Cow at times, our herd feared no Dweller of the Jungles. Mine is a big family," he ruminated, "for we wander over almost all India and Burma. Before I had grown up our Bull leader had taught us all the method of battle. When it was Bagh, we formed up, heads out, with the Calves behind, and if we but saw him in time, he surely was slain, if he sought strongly for a Kill.

"I learned all the different sounds that come far ahead of danger. One's ears get wondrous sharp in the Jungle, I can tell you, where the little Gonds hunt. If a stone went singing down the hillside, that meant Men, and Men meant the worst kind of danger. No Animal starts a stone rolling; we are too careful for that.

"Also do the Jungle Dwellers not break sticks as they travel. The crack of a broken twig meant Men Hunters; and when a beat was on, the Jungle was, indeed, possessed of great sounds. All the Dwellers ran mad with fear--the fear-madness that is like unto the way of Baola Kutta, the Mad Dog. There is nothing so terrible in the life of an Animal as the drive of the Hunters. 'Tap, tap, tap,' like the knocking of Horns together, meant the strike of Beaters against the trees, and then the Men's voices crying, '_Aree ho teri_.'

"I, who tremble not at the roar of a Tiger, shivered when I heard that, and lost all knowledge of which way I should run--that was in the first drive, of course, before I became possessed of much Jungle wisdom. Surely it drove us all mad. Like the sound of rain falling on leaves was the rush of Python's little feet as even he flew from the Man-danger.

"Our best food was down in the _jhils_, also the nice soft mud to lie in, and in the early spring, after the fires had passed, the young bamboo shot up and we ate them. Then when we took it into our heads, we went up into the deep, cool sal forest and rested in peace. But in the Dry Time was the time of danger, for we had to travel far to find water. We are not like Antelope or Nilgai, who go without water for days and days.

"I remember once when we had crept down out of the hills, leaving the big sal trees behind, and passing through tamarind, and mango, and pipal, and just as we were coming to the pool, which was almost hidden in the jamin bushes, I heard a roar--there was a rush and a Bagh of ferocious strength sprang on one of our Cows and sought to break her neck.

"But worse than Bagh's cruel charge was the silent method of the little, dark Men-kind--the Mariahs. Like Magh's people, they would sit quiet in the trees, and as we came slowly back from the water would shoot arrows into us. Of this we could have no warning, neither any chance to fight for our lives, only the noise of the arrow coming like the hiss of King Cobra, and the cruel sting of its sharp end. Our Bull leader got one this way not strong enough to bring him to his death, and for days and days it stayed in his side, and made him of such a vile temper that the Herd had to cast him forth, and he became what is known as a Solitary Bull.

"There is some kindness in Bagh's method, more than in the way of these evil Men, for when he kills he kills, and there is no more sickness; but of the Men, when they hunt us with their arrows or a thunder-stick which strikes with a loud noise, many of our kind are struck and die at the end of much time.

"Strong as the fire-stick is----"

"Arna means by the fire-stick a gun," explained Sa'-zada.

"Strong as it is," continued Arna, "we Buffalo are also of great strength. Why, the skin on my neck and withers would stop its strike any time."

"Stop the Bullet?" queried Sa'-zada.