Alive in the Jungle: A Story for the Young

  *CHAPTER XIII.*

  _*CAUGHT IN A TRAP.*_

  Whilst Oliver and the old shikaree were working hard in the moonlight,Mr. Desborough and his friends were in hot pursuit of the flying wolves.

  The major, who was the keenest sportsman of the three, gave it as hisopinion that their wisest course was to keep the pack in sight. Thewolf with the child was rushing from its covert in answer to thepatriarch's call, and would be sure to join the others sooner or later.

  Up came some of the jogies, breathless and panting, to declare they hadheard the cry of the child far up the hill, toward the temple ruins. Ifso, the wolf must have been retreating to the second koond, on the otherside of the hill. The deputy, who was anxious to pick up his nephew,turned back to beat it with another party of the jogies, who wereexamining the tracks about the jheel.

  "Mind you beat up stream," shouted the major, as he sprang into hissaddle, prepared to give chase to the wolves.

  They came up with the pack at the head of a valley, where they werepicking the bones of a spotted deer some tiger had brought down. But nochild was among them. In a country so full of cover it was impossibleto say where the little fugitive might be hiding. So they postedchakoos, or lookouts, all about, to give instantaneous notice ifanything showed.

  In the gray of the dawn, disheartened and weary, the friends drewtogether once again. Hunting-flasks were taken out, and counsel held inthe weed-grown court of the temple.

  "Our hour is coming," said the major cheerily. "Wait until the day iswell up, and we shall find the child asleep under one of these bushes.Now for some lure to make it show. We must beat them all."

  "And frighten him into idiocy, if his dawning sense has not been scaredaway already! He knew me no longer," exclaimed Mr. Desborough.

  "Surely he would recognize his mother's voice," put in the deputy.

  "I dare not risk the torture of suspense like this for her; but we mighthave Kathleen. If he remembers anything, it would be Kathleen,"answered Mr. Desborough.

  "Send for her at once without alarming Mrs. Desborough," said thedeputy, taking out his pocket-book; and scribbling a note to his niece,he despatched his syce with it to Runnangore.

  At a very early hour, Bona's dandy appeared once more at the gate of thecompound at Noak-holly.

  "I have come in the cool of the morning," she said, "to fetch yourlittle girl to spend the day at Runnangore. You must not refuse her tome, dear Mrs. Desborough, for Mr. Desborough wishes her to accept myinvitation."

  But Kathleen did not much like Bona, and did not want to go, until Bonawhispered, "Hush! not a word; but come you must. They are searching forCarl in the jungle."

  Oh how tedious it seemed to wait until the little beebee was bathed anddressed!

  In the meanwhile Oliver was nodding in his tree, waiting for theshikaree's signal. The old man was listening for the faintest sound.Not a quiver in the bush below escaped him; not the beat of a weary wingas the night-birds drew to their haunts; not a tremble in the grass athis feet, where the children of the day were awaking.

  The wind changed with the daybreak, and the wary hunter changed hisposition with it. He swung himself from tree to tree, leaving nofootprint on the ground that the keen scent of the wolf might detect.Avoiding the trees where the branches grew low to the ground, hestationed the boy at a far greater distance than before. Again theywatched and waited. A few sharp, trotting steps went by, and a dholesprang from the thicket.

  "Bear," murmured Tara, as the creature turned aggressive, and dashingout with a rush upon the wild dog, charged him fiercely.

  In the noise of their scuffle other sounds were lost. But the flap ofthe vulture's wing, the scream of the kite, and the hoarse gobble-gobbleof the still more numerous turkey-buzzards grew more and more distinctas the red light of morning painted the eastern sky.

  The sun arose, and the furry tyrants of the midnight fled before it.The tiger was slumbering in the moonje grass he loves so well; thespotted leopard chose out his favourite tree, uprising from the thickestunderwood, and coiled himself up for his mid-day rest; the bear trottedoff to his den behind the fallen rock; the spotted deer roamed freely;and the peacocks, with which the jungle abounded, spread their glorioustails in the sunlight.

  Then Tara Ghur descended his tree, and signing to Oliver to follow,stealthily approached the pit.

  The large leaves of the bauhinia creeper and the pranes tree, a kind ofsycamore, with which he had carpeted the path of the wolf, had beentrampled down and displaced. Some had altogether vanished. The oldman's eyes were flashing with their steeliest blue as he felt successwas sure.

  Avoiding the remnants of the bird-lime leaves, which were strewn aboutin all directions, he led his young companion to the other edge of thepit. Something had been caught. The sombre gloom around, the perpetualtwilight which reigned all day in those deep recesses, prevented himfrom telling what it was. It seemed like blanket, not hair, that wascovering a dark heap in the corner, besmeared with many a leaf. Therewas more than one denizen of the pit. How he smiled as he was bendingover it! Oliver was watching a foolish hare, which came with a lightbound across the treacherous pathway. As its feet touched awell-smeared pranes leaf, they were set fast, and not all its franticendeavours could free itself. It rolled over and over, lifting the leafhigh into the air, as far as its paws could reach. It bit itfrantically; lips and paw were glued together. It struggled harderstill to regain its liberty, until it became a rolling ball of dirt andleaves, every movement bringing it nearer and nearer to the sloping edgeof the pit, into which it must have fallen if Oliver had not caught itin his arms and set it free.

  The hunter recalled his attention. A faint sound was audible, like thefeeble fret of a weary child. Oliver's cap went high into the air. Tarareminded him of the necessity for silence by laying his finger on hislips. Then he took the hunting-knife from his belt and felt its edge.

  Oliver's eyes were growing more accustomed to the all-pervading gloom,and he began to see more clearly. He leaned over the edge of the pit.There was the wolf crouching in one corner, and a shapeless bundle inthe other. Many a treacherous leaf was sticking fast about the shaggycoat, and one hind leg was evidently broken by its fall. Was that abundle of leaves it was cuddling between its fore paws, and washing solovingly despite its pain?

  "Child found--found!" whispered the old man triumphantly, as he returnedhis knife to his belt and began to descend.

  Swift as lightning the young sailor-boy slid down before him. Heguessed the hunter's purpose. He saw the gleam of the sharpened blade,and seized the old man's arm.

  "No, no; don't kill the wolf!" he entreated.

  "Maro! maro!" shrieked a voice behind them, and a woman's face peepedout of the dirty blanket. The jewels round her neck shone like stars inthe darkness. "Maro!" she reiterated.

  "Maro." Oliver knew that word--"Kill it." The old shikaree wasmuttering the same. But Oliver only grasped his arm the tighter."Should we be harder-hearted than a wolf?" he urged. "What are we, ifwe reward the generosity that spared the victim in her very teeth, withthe knife?"

  Tara Ghur looked at him in astonishment. "But the mighty lords that arecoming will make it eat their bullets," he answered under his breath.

  Oliver knew he was arguing with a man who bent the knee to hideous idolswithout number. Yet he was a man, and deep down in his heart the law ofGod was written, "Do as you would be done by"--a law that is never quiteobliterated in any human breast, however persistently disobeyed.Although of another race, Tara had learned something of the Hindutenderness for animal life, and he listened when Oliver still went on:"You have caught the wolf so cleverly, Tara. If there is not anotherhunter in all the hills that could do it, I am sure that you can get thechild away without killing the wolf, if you will only try. I want itfor Rattam," he added. The last argument was all-prevailing. The knifewent back into the old man's belt. They looked around. Their fi
rstendeavour was to reassure the unfortunate woman.

  She was crossing to Nataban, and had lost her way in the jungle, whereshe had been wandering about all night. Her feet slipped on thebird-lime, and she fell, as the wolf had fallen, into the hunter's trap,where she was forced to remain huddled up in her blanket, expectingevery moment the brute would turn and devour her. But deliverance hadcome with the morning. Her gratitude knew no bounds. Oliver scrambledout of the pit, and gave her a hand from above, while Tara lifted her upon his shoulder; and so between them they dragged her back to thedaylight, if daylight it might be called.

  The dirty blanket was dropped in the pit, and the Thibetan woman stoodbefore them in her necklaces and rags. Oliver had not forgotten littleKathleen and the mountain milkmaid. Could those three strings of beadsbelong to any one else? But he dared not stay to question. He left herseated and trembling on the root of a tree, and leaped down into the pitagain. The wolf was blinded by the birdlime, but she had heard theirvoices. Like all wolves when caught in a pit, she was completely cowed.Instead of offering the least resistance, she stretched herself at thebottom of the pit, as if she were dead, with her fore paws over hernursling, hiding him all she could.

  The hunter, who knew what wolves will do under such circumstances,guessed it was only pretence. She could not get out of the pit herself;and he had known wolves artful enough to let him drag them out, withoutshowing the slightest sign of life, and when he had left them lying onthe ground, believing they were dead, they would suddenly start up andrun away.

  Tara Ghur explained this to Oliver as well as he could, assuring him inthis state she would submit to be handled. It was clear she had notattempted to touch the woman. Under any other circumstances she wouldhave torn her to pieces.

  The boy's heart gave a great leap of joy. He saw a baby's foottwitching between the outstretched paws. Old Tara saw it too. He tookfrom the bosom of his loose brown vest, which is the Hindu's pocket, acoil of rope, and was tying a slip noose at one end, when Oliver guessedhis purpose. In another moment the noose would have been round the graywolf's throat. Oliver knew the old man was only doing his duty to thosewho had employed him to find the child and destroy the wolf, but hecould not bear to see him kill the noble-hearted creature with the childin her paws--the child she had spared and cherished and guarded fromunimaginable perils all those months! "We must, we ought to spare her inour turn," he cried, pushing back the noose as far as her jaw. "We willmuzzle her; that's enough."

  But the collar to fix the muzzle was wanting. Oliver was wearingknickerbockers and a loose brown blouse, belted round his waist. Hetore off his belt and slipped the buckle down: there was the collar theywanted. Whilst Tara still held the ends of the rope, securing thewolf's mouth, Oliver slipped his belt under her chin, and buckled itfirmly at the back of her neck. Then they drew the two ends of the ropeover her forehead and knotted them to the belt, and the wolf wassecurely muzzled. With the end of the rope which he still held Tarapulled her backwards, and Oliver snatched up the child, all sticky withthe bird-lime, and covered with the dust and dirt in which it had beenrolled; but its limbs were warm and strong, for it resisted his attemptsto hold it. He was by far the stronger of the two, but the strugglemight rouse the wolf to animation. Oliver slipped two fingers into hispocket, which he was in the habit of filling from the Rana's jars, andpushed a bit of the beautiful sweetmeats with which they were filledinto the tiny mouth. The little creature, so long a stranger to thetaste of sugar, sucked its lips with pleasure. It must have beenhungry. He fed it with all he had, until Tara came and took it from himto carry it out of the pit. Oliver watched him scramble to the top withthe child in his arms, but he did not follow when he saw them safely onthe bank. There was something else he wanted to do. He was not goingto leave the wolf down there, with a broken leg, to perish slowly fromhunger and thirst: that would be cruelty indeed. He stood a whileconsidering the broken limb.

  "Sahib! sahib!" called the hunter. Oliver's plan was made; so hegrasped the dusky hand which was stretched out to him, and clambered up.

  The ragged woman had taken the child in her arms, and was trying to ruboff some of the dirt which covered it with the corner of her chuddar,the loose garment the Hindu women wear. Her own had once been pink, buthad now lost all trace of its original colour.

  What child had they found? Was it black or white? Who could answer thequestion in its state of dirt in that dim twilight? Had it been so longwith the wolves that it had learned their ways, or had it become dumbwith terror? No sound came from its lips but a low fret.

  Old Tara drew his fingers over its shock of matted hair and parted itstoes; but its shape was enough for him--it was no Hindu. Not one whitespot was to be seen about it. No matter; the old man was confident hehad found the lost one.

  They were now at the very head of the koond, far away from the rest oftheir party, who were vainly beating the bushes about the sloping groundbelow the temple. The long night-watch had made them hungry. Taralooked about for a breakfast for his companions. The chasm whichdivided the koond had changed to a rushing torrent during the rains, andhe searched along its banks for the nest of the black goose.

  Date-trees, which abound in every part of Bengal, were not far to seek.He quickly wove himself a basket of leaves, and brought back his spoilin triumph. He found Oliver cutting up a strip of bark with hispenknife, talking to the woman as best he could.

  He had discovered that her name was Kopatree. She had been tending cowsamong the hills. A buffalo had attacked them; she fled for her life,and lost her way. If they could only guide her back to the road or tothe village by the Rana's castle, she could find her way.

  "Have you been working at the sanitarium high up on the hills?" askedOliver.

  "Yes; before the rains began." She remembered the weeping beebee, andher distress for the lost one.

  All agreed it would not be safe to take the long walk through the jungletowards the ruined temple, as the child might set up screaming anymoment, and bring the wolf's mate upon them, with the whole pack at hisheels. No; they must steal away while the wolves were well settled intheir mid-day sleep. Better climb the rocks under which they wereresting, and seek hospitality at the Rana's castle.

  When this decision was reached, Oliver slid down into the pit, with hisstrips of bark in his pocket. He had no scruple about appropriating thedirty blanket, resolving to buy its luckless owner a better inNoak-holly bazaar.

  His father's sailors had so often brought back some strange pet fromforeign parts, to amuse them on their homeward voyage, that he was notso afraid of touching the wolf as many boys would have been. Once theyhad had a lion cub, and twice a bear, so that he had had a littletraining as a menagerie-keeper. He tore off a strip of the blanket, andknelt down, with his little bundle of splints by his side, and set thepoor broken leg as well as he was able, keeping the splints in placewith his blanket-bandages. This done, he clambered out of the pit withthe end of the rope in his hand, and tethered the wolf to the nearesttree, for the rope uncoiled to a considerable length.

  Tara Ghur was impatient to be gone, for he knew that a storm wasimpending, was stealing over them, with the growing heat of the day.Suddenly in a moment the mighty trees of the forest swayed hither andthither, bowing their giant heads as a furious gust of wind sweptthrough their leafy arcades; and he knew it was time to be gone.

  Making prize of the remainder of the dirty blanket, he slung the childto his back. The bag of atta and the pot of bird-lime were left behindunder a heap of stones. The old man led them by a path the wild goatshad made. As they began to climb the steep ascent, he grasped Oliver byone hand, Kopatree seized the other, and so between them they almostcarried him along, until the topmost height was reached.