JUNGLE FOLK
It was high noon of a warm summer’s day when Moo Kow came down to the watering-place. Miaow, otherwise known as “Puskat”–the warmth-loving one–was crouching on a limb that overhung the pool, sunning herself. Brer Rabbit–but that is Another Story by Another Person.
Three or four Gee Gees, already at the pool, moved away on the approach of Moo Kow.
“Why do ye stand aside?” said the Moo Kow.
“Why do you say ‘ye’?” said the Gee Gees together.
“Because it’s more impressive than ‘you.’ Don’t you know that all animals talk that way in English?” said the Moo Kow.
“And they also say ‘thou,’ and don’t you forget it!” interrupted Miaow from the tree. “I learnt that from a Man Cub.”
The animals were silent. They did not like Miaow’s slang, and were jealous of her occasionally sitting on a Man Cub’s lap. Once Dun- kee, a poor relation of the Gee Gees, had tried it on, disastrously–but that is also Another and a more Aged Story.
“We are ridden by The English–please to observe the Capital letters,” said Pi Bol, the leader of the Gee Gees, proudly. “They are a mighty race who ride anything and everybody. D’ye mind that– I mean, look ye well to it!”
“What should they know of England who only England know?” said Miaow.
“Is that a conundrum?” asked the Moo Kow.
“No; it’s poetry,” said the Miaow.
“I know England,” said Pi Bol prancingly. “I used to go from the Bank to Islington three times a day–I mean,” he added hurriedly, “before I became a screw–I should say, a screw-gun horse.”
“And I,” said the Moo Kow, “am terrible. When the young women and children in the village see me approach they fly shriekingly. My presence alone has scattered their sacred festival–The Sundes Kool Piknik. I strike terror to their inmost souls, and am more feared by them than even Kreep-mows, the insidious! And yet, behold! I have taken the place of the mothers of men, and I have nourished the mighty ones of the earth! But that,” said the Moo Kow, turning her head aside bashfully, “that is Anudder Story.”
A dead silence fell on the pool.
“And I,” said Miaow, lifting up her voice, “I am the horror and haunter of the night season. When I pass like the night wind over the roofs of the houses men shudder in their beds and tremble. When they hear my voice as I creep stealthily along their balconies they cry to their gods for succor. They arise, and from their windows they offer me their priceless household treasures–the sacred vessels dedicated to their great god Shiv–which they call ‘Shivin Mugs’–the Kloes Brosh, the Boo-jak, urging me to fly them! And yet,” said Miaow mournfully, “it is but my love-song! Think ye what they would do if I were on the war-path.”
Another dead silence fell on the pool. Then arose that strange, mysterious, indefinable Thing, known as “The Scent.” The animals sniffed.
“It heralds the approach of the Stalkies–the most famous of British Skool Boaz,” said the Moo Kow. “They have just placed a decaying guinea-pig, two white mice in an advanced state of decomposition, and a single slice of Limburger cheese in the bed of their tutor. They had previously skillfully diverted the drains so that they emptied into the drawing-room of the head-master. They have just burned down his house in an access of noble zeal, and are fighting among themselves for the spoil. Hark! do ye hear them?”
A wild medley of shrieks and howls had arisen, and an irregular mob of strange creatures swept out of the distance toward the pool. Some were like pygmies, some had bloody noses. Their talk consisted of feverish, breathless ejaculations,–a gibberish in which the words “rot,” “oach,” and “giddy” were preeminent. Some were exciting themselves by chewing a kind of “bhang” made from the plant called pappahmint; others had their faces streaked with djam.
“But who is this they are ducking in the pool?” asked Pi Bol.
“It is one who has foolishly and wantonly conceived that his parents have sent him here to study,” said the Moo Kow; “but that is against the rules of the Stalkies, who accept study only as a punishment.”
“Then these be surely the ‘Bander Log’–the monkey folk–of whom the good Rhuddyidd has told us,” said a Gee Gee–”the ones who have no purpose–and forget everything.”
“Fool!” said the Moo Kow. “Know ye not that the great Rhuddyidd has said that the Stalkies become Major-Generals, V. C.’s, and C. B’s of the English? Truly, they are great. Look now; ye shall see one of the greatest traits of the English Stalky.”
One of the pygmy Stalkies was offering a bun to a larger one, who hesitated, but took it coldly.
“Behold! it is one of the greatest traits of this mighty race not to show any emotion. He WOULD take the bun–he HAS taken it! He is pleased–but he may not show it. Observe him eat.”
The taller Stalky, after eating the bun, quietly kicked the giver, knocked off his hat, and turned away with a calm, immovable face.
“Good!” said the Moo Kow. “Ye would not dream that he was absolutely choking with grateful emotion?”
“We would not,” said the animals.
“But why are they all running back the way they came?” asked Pi Bol.
“They are going back to punishment. Great is its power. Have ye not heard the gospel of Rhuddyidd the mighty? ‘Force is everything! Gentleness won’t wash, courtesy is deceitful. Politeness is foreign. Be ye beaten that ye may beat. Pass the kick on.’”
But here he was interrupted by the appearance of three soldiers who were approaching the watering-place.
“Ye are now,” said the Moo Kow, “with the main guard. The first is Bleareyed, who carries a raven in a cage, which he has stolen from the wife of a deputy commissioner. He will paint the bird snow white and sell it as a dove to the same lady. The second is Otherwise, who is dragging a small garden engine, of which he has despoiled a native gardener, whom he has felled with a single blow. The third is Mulledwiney, swinging a cut-glass decanter of sherry which he has just snatched from the table of his colonel. Mulledwiney and Otherwise will play the engine upon Bleareyed, who is suffering from heat apoplexy and djim-djams.”
The three soldiers seated themselves in the pool.
“They are going to tell awful war stories now,” said the Moo Kow, “stories that are large and strong! Some people are shocked– others like ‘em.”
Then he that was called Mulledwiney told a story. In the middle of it Miaow got up from the limb of the tree, coughed slightly, and put her paw delicately over her mouth. “You must excuse me,” she said faintly. “I am taken this way sometimes–and I have left my salts at home. Thanks! I can get down myself!” The next moment she had disappeared, but was heard coughing in the distance.
Mulledwiney winked at his companions and continued his story:–
“Wid that we wor in the thick av the foight. Whin I say ‘thick’ I mane it, sorr! We wor that jammed together, divil a bit cud we shoot or cut! At fur-rest, I had lashed two mushkits together wid the baynits out so, like a hay fork, and getting the haymaker’s lift on thim, I just lifted two Paythians out–one an aych baynit– and passed ‘em, aisy-like, over me head to the rear rank for them to finish. But what wid the blud gettin’ into me ois, I was blinded, and the pressure kept incraysin’ until me arrums was thrussed like a fowl to me sides, and sorra a bit cud I move but me jaws!”
“And bloomin’ well you knew how to use them,” said Otherwise.
“Thrue for you–though ye don’t mane it!” said Mulledwiney, playfully tapping Otherwise on the head with a decanter till the cut glass slowly shivered. “So, begorra! there wor nothing left for me to do but to ATE thim! Wirra! but it was the crooel worruk.”
“Excuse me, my lord,” interrupted the gasping voice of Pi Bol as he began to back from the pool, “I am but a horse, I know, and being built in that way–naturally have the stomach of one–yet, really, my lord, this–er”– And his voice was gone.
The next moment he had disappeared. Mulledwiney looked around with affected concern.
“Save us! But we’ve cleaned out the Jungle! Sure, there’s not a baste left but ourselves!”
It was true. The watering-place was empty. Moo Kow, Miaow, and the Gee Gees had disappeared. Presently there was a booming crash and a long, deep rumbling among the distant hills. Then they knew they were near the old Moulmein Pagoda, and the dawn had come up like thunder out of China ‘cross the bay. It always came up that way there. The strain was too great, and day was actually breaking.
