first pier was made they never thought to look down the stream
for the body to burn. There, again, I saved much trouble.
There was nothing strange in the building of the bridge," said
the Mugger.

"But that which goes across, pulling the roofed carts! That is
strange," the Adjutant repeated. "It is, past any doubt, a new
breed of bullock. Some day it will not be able to keep its
foothold up yonder, and will fall as the men did. The old Mugger
will then be ready."

The Jackal looked at the Adjutant and the Adjutant looked at the
Jackal. If there was one thing they were more certain of than
another, it was that the engine was everything in the wide world
except a bullock. The Jackal had watched it time and again from
the aloe hedges by the side of the line, and the Adjutant had
seen engines since the first locomotive ran in India. But the
Mugger had only looked up at the thing from below, where the
brass dome seemed rather like a bullock"s hump.

"M--yes, a new kind of bullock," the Mugger repeated
ponderously, to make himself quite sure in his own mind;
and "Certainly it is a bullock," said the Jackal.

"And again it might be----" began the Mugger pettishly.

"Certainly--most certainly," said the Jackal, without waiting
for the other to finish.

"What?" said the Mugger angrily, for he could feel that the
others knew more than he did. "What might it be? _I_ never
finished my words. You said it was a bullock."

"It is anything the Protector of the Poor pleases. I am HIS
servant--not the servant of the thing that crosses the river."

"Whatever it is, it is white-face work," said the Adjutant;
"and for my own part, I would not lie out upon a place so near
to it as this bar."

"You do not know the English as I do," said the Mugger. "There
was a white-face here when the bridge was built, and he would
take a boat in the evenings and shuffle with his feet on the
bottom-boards, and whisper: "Is he here? Is he there? Bring me
my gun." I could hear him before I could see him--each sound
that he made--creaking and puffing and rattling his gun, up and
down the river. As surely as I had picked up one of his workmen,
and thus saved great expense in wood for the burning, so surely
would he come down to the Ghaut, and shout in a loud voice that
he would hunt me, and rid the river of me--the Mugger of Mugger-
Ghaut! ME! Children, I have swum under the bottom of his boat
for hour after hour, and heard him fire his gun at logs; and
when I was well sure he was wearied, I have risen by his side
and snapped my jaws in his face. When the bridge was finished he
went away. All the English hunt in that fashion, except when
they are hunted."

"Who hunts the white-faces?" yapped the Jackal excitedly.

"No one now, but I have hunted them in my time."

"I remember a little of that Hunting. I was young then," said
the Adjutant, clattering his beak significantly.

"I was well established here. My village was being builded for
the third time, as I remember, when my cousin, the Gavial,
brought me word of rich waters above Benares. At first I would
not go, for my cousin, who is a fish-eater, does not always know
the good from the bad; but I heard my people talking in the
evenings, and what they said made me certain."

"And what did they say?" the Jackal asked.

"They said enough to make me, the Mugger of Mugger-Ghaut,
leave water and take to my feet. I went by night, using the
littlest streams as they served me; but it was the beginning of
the hot weather, and all streams were low. I crossed dusty
roads; I went through tall grass; I climbed hills in the
moonlight. Even rocks did I climb, children--consider this well.
I crossed the tail of Sirhind, the waterless, before I could
find the set of the little rivers that flow Gungaward. I was a
month"s journey from my own people and the river that I knew.
That was very marvellous!"

"What food on the way?" said the Jackal, who kept his soul in
his little stomach, and was not a bit impressed by the Mugger"s
land travels.

"That which I could find--COUSIN," said the Mugger slowly,
dragging each word.

Now you do not call a man a cousin in India unless you think you
can establish some kind of blood-relationship, and as it is only
in old fairy-tales that the Mugger ever marries a jackal, the
Jackal knew for what reason he had been suddenly lifted into
the Mugger"s family circle. If they had been alone he would
not have cared, but the Adjutant"s eyes twinkled with mirth
at the ugly jest.

"Assuredly, Father, I might have known," said the Jackal.


<< previous page | next page >>

Jump to page: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56 | 57 | 58 | 59 | 60 | 61 | 62 | 63 | 64 | 65 | 66 | 67 | 68 | 69 | 70 | 71 | 72 | 73 | 74 |