"Thank you SO much. It is a matter of my own and Mulledwiney's. The fact is, we have had a PERSONAL difficulty." He paused, glanced around him, and continued in a low, agitated voice: "Yesterday I came upon him as he was sitting leaning against the barrack wall. In a spirit of playfulness--mere playfulness, I assure you, sir--I poked him lightly in theshoulder with my stick, saying 'Boo!'He turned--and I shall never forget the look he gave me.""Good heavens!" I gasped, "you touched--absolutely TOUCHED-- Mulledwiney?""Yes," he said hurriedly, "I knew what you would say; it was against the Queen's Regulations--and--there was his sensitive nature which shrinks from even a harsh word; but I did it, and of course he has me in his power.""And you have touched him?" I repeated,--"touched his private honor!""Yes! But I shall atone for it! I have already arranged with him that we shall have it out between ourselves alone, in the jungle, stripped to the buff, with our fists--Queensberry rules! I haven't fought since I stood up against Spinks Major--you remember old Spinks, now of the Bombay Offensibles?--at Eton." And the old boy pluckily bared his skinny arm.
"It may be serious," I said.
"I have thought of that. I have a wife, several children, and an aged parent in England. If I fall, they must never know. You must invent a story for them. I have thought of cholera, but that is played out; you know we have already tried it on The Boy who was Thrown Away. Invent something quiet, peaceable and respectable--as far removed from fighting as possible. What do you say to measles?""Not half bad," I returned.
"Measles let it be, then! Say I caught it from Wee Willie Winkie. You do not think it too incredible?" he added timidly.
"Not more than YOUR story," I said.
He grasped my hand, struggling violently with his emotion. Then he struggled with me--and I left hurriedly. Poor old boy! The funeral was well attended, however, and no one knew the truth, not even myself.
III
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.