X. THREE OF THEM
I--A CHAT ABOUT CHILDREN, SNAKES, AND ZEBUS
These little sketches are called "Three of Them," but there are reallyfive, on and off the stage. There is Daddy, a lumpish person with somegift for playing Indian games when he is in the mood. He is then knownas "The Great Chief of the Leatherskin Tribe." Then there is my LadySunshine. These are the grown-ups, and don't really count. There remainthe three, who need some differentiating upon paper, though their littlespirits are as different in reality as spirits could be--all beautifuland all quite different. The eldest is a boy of eight whom we shall call"Laddie." If ever there was a little cavalier sent down ready-made it ishe. His soul is the most gallant, unselfish, innocent thing that everGod sent out to get an extra polish upon earth. It dwells in a tall,slight, well-formed body, graceful and agile, with a head and face asclean-cut as if an old Greek cameo had come to life, and a pair ofinnocent and yet wise grey eyes that read and win the heart. He is shyand does not shine before strangers. I have said that he is unselfishand brave. When there is the usual wrangle about going to bed, up hegets in his sedate way. "I will go first," says he, and off he goes, theeldest, that the others may have the few extra minutes while he is in hisbath. As to his courage, he is absolutely lion-hearted where he can helpor defend any one else. On one occasion Daddy lost his temper withDimples (Boy Number 2), and, not without very good provocation, gave hima tap on the side of the head. Next instant he felt a butt downsomewhere in the region of his waist-belt, and there was an angry littlered face looking up at him, which turned suddenly to a brown mop of hairas the butt was repeated. No one, not even Daddy, should hit his littlebrother. Such was Laddie, the gentle and the fearless.
Then there is Dimples. Dimples is nearly seven, and you never saw arounder, softer, dimplier face, with two great roguish, mischievous eyesof wood-pigeon grey, which are sparkling with fun for the most part,though they can look sad and solemn enough at times. Dimples has themaking of a big man in him. He has depth and reserves in his tiny soul.But on the surface he is a boy of boys, always in innocent mischief. "Iwill now do mischuff," he occasionally announces, and is usually as goodas his word. He has a love and understanding of all living creatures,the uglier and more slimy the better, treating them all in a tender,fairylike fashion which seems to come from some inner knowledge. He hasbeen found holding a buttercup under the mouth of a slug "to see if helikes butter." He finds creatures in an astonishing way. Put him in thefairest garden, and presently he will approach you with a newt, a toad,or a huge snail in his custody. Nothing would ever induce him to hurtthem, but he gives them what he imagines to be a little treat and thenrestores them to their homes. He has been known to speak bitterly to theLady when she has given orders that caterpillars be killed if found uponthe cabbages, and even the explanation that the caterpillars were doingthe work of what he calls "the Jarmans" did not reconcile him to theirfate.
He has an advantage over Laddie, in that he suffers from no trace ofshyness and is perfectly friendly in an instant with any one of everyclass of life, plunging straight into conversation with some such remarkas "Can your Daddy give a war-whoop?" or "Were you ever chased by abear?" He is a sunny creature but combative sometimes, when he drawsdown his brows, sets his eyes, his chubby cheeks flush, and his lips goback from his almond-white teeth. "I am Swankie the Berserker," says he,quoting out of his favourite "Erling the Bold," which Daddy reads aloudat bed-time. When he is in this fighting mood he can even drive backLaddie, chiefly because the elder is far too chivalrous to hurt him. Ifyou want to see what Laddie can really do, put the small gloves on himand let him go for Daddy. Some of those hurricane rallies of his wouldstop Daddy grinning if they could get home, and he has to fall back offhis stool in order to get away from them.
If that latent power of Dimples should ever come out, how will it bemanifest? Surely in his imagination. Tell him a story and the boy islost. He sits with his little round, rosy face immovable and fixed,while his eyes never budge from those of the speaker. He sucks ineverything that is weird or adventurous or wild. Laddie is a ratherrestless soul, eager to be up and doing; but Dimples is absorbed in thepresent if there be something worth hearing to be heard. In height he ishalf a head shorter than his brother, but rather more sturdy in build.The power of his voice is one of his noticeable characteristics. IfDimples is coming you know it well in advance. With that physical giftupon the top of his audacity, and his loquacity, he fairly takes commandof any place in which he may find himself, while Laddie, his soul toonoble for jealousy, becomes one of the laughing and admiring audience.
Then there is Baby, a dainty elfin Dresden-china little creature of five,as fair as an angel and as deep as a well. The boys are but shallow,sparkling pools compared with this little girl with her self-repressionand dainty aloofness. You know the boys, you never feel that you quiteknow the girl. Something very strong and forceful seems to be at theback of that wee body. Her will is tremendous. Nothing can break oreven bend it. Only kind guidance and friendly reasoning can mould it.The boys are helpless if she has really made up her mind. But this isonly when she asserts herself, and those are rare occasions. As a ruleshe sits quiet, aloof, affable, keenly alive to all that passes and yettaking no part in it save for some subtle smile or glance. And thensuddenly the wonderful grey-blue eyes under the long black lashes willgleam like coy diamonds, and such a hearty little chuckle will come fromher that every one else is bound to laugh out of sympathy. She andDimples are great allies and yet have continual lovers' quarrels. Onenight she would not even include his name in her prayers. "God bless--"every one else, but not a word of Dimples. "Come, come, darling!" urgedthe Lady. "Well, then, God bless horrid Dimples!" said she at last,after she had named the cat, the goat, her dolls, and her Wriggly.
That is a strange trait, the love for the Wriggly. It would repaythought from some scientific brain. It is an old, faded, disused downyfrom her cot. Yet go where she will, she must take Wriggly with her. Allher toys put together would not console her for the absence of Wriggly.If the family go to the seaside, Wriggly must come too. She will notsleep without the absurd bundle in her arms. If she goes to a party sheinsists upon dragging its disreputable folds along with her, one endalways projecting "to give it fresh air." Every phase of childhoodrepresents to the philosopher something in the history of the race. Fromthe new-born baby which can hang easily by one hand from a broomstickwith its legs drawn up under it, the whole evolution of mankind is re-enacted. You can trace clearly the cave-dweller, the hunter, the scout.What, then, does Wriggly represent? Fetish worship--nothing else. Thesavage chooses some most unlikely thing and adores it. This dear littlesavage adores her Wriggly.
So now we have our three little figures drawn as clearly as a clumsy pencan follow such subtle elusive creatures of mood and fancy. We willsuppose now that it is a summer evening, that Daddy is seated smoking inhis chair, that the Lady is listening somewhere near, and that the threeare in a tumbled heap upon the bear-skin before the empty fireplacetrying to puzzle out the little problems of their tiny lives. When threechildren play with a new thought it is like three kittens with a ball,one giving it a pat and another a pat, as they chase it from point topoint. Daddy would interfere as little as possible, save when he wascalled upon to explain or to deny. It was usually wiser for him topretend to be doing something else. Then their talk was the morenatural. On this occasion, however, he was directly appealed to.
"Daddy!" asked Dimples.
"Yes, boy."
"Do you fink that the roses know us?"
Dimples, in spite of his impish naughtiness, had a way of looking such aperfectly innocent and delightfully kissable little person that one felthe really might be a good deal nearer to the sweet secrets of Nature thanhis elders. However, Daddy was in a material mood.
"No, boy; how could the roses know us?"
"The big yellow rose at the corner of the gate knows _me_."
/> "How do you know that?"
"'Cause it nodded to me yesterday."
Laddie roared with laughter.
"That was just the wind, Dimples."
"No, it was not," said Dimples, with conviction. "There was none wind.Baby was there. Weren't you, Baby?"
"The wose knew us," said Baby, gravely.
"Beasts know us," said Laddie. "But them beasts run round and makenoises. Roses don't make noises."
"Yes, they do. They rustle."
"Woses wustle," said Baby.
"That's not a living noise. That's an all-the-same noise. Different toRoy, who barks and makes different noises all the time. Fancy the rosesall barkin' at you. Daddy, will you tell us about animals?"
That is one of the child stages which takes us back to the old tribelife--their inexhaustible interest in animals, some distant echo of thoselong nights when wild men sat round the fires and peered out into thedarkness, and whispered about all the strange and deadly creatures whofought with them for the lordship of the earth. Children love caves, andthey love fires and meals out of doors, and they love animal talk--allrelics of the far distant past.
"What is the biggest animal in South America, Daddy?"
Daddy, wearily: "Oh, I don't know."
"I s'pose an elephant would be the biggest?"
"No, boy; there are none in South America."
"Well, then, a rhinoceros?"
"No, there are none."
"Well, what is there, Daddy?"
"Well, dear, there are jaguars. I suppose a jaguar is the biggest."
"Then it must be thirty-six feet long."
"Oh, no, boy; about eight or nine feet with his tail."
"But there are boa-constrictors in South America thirty-six feet long."
"That's different."
"Do you fink," asked Dimples, with his big, solemn, grey eyes wide open,"there was ever a boa-'strictor forty-five feet long?"
"No, dear; I never heard of one."
"Perhaps there was one, but you never heard of it. Do you fink you wouldhave heard of a boa-'strictor forty-five feet long if there was one inSouth America?"
"Well, there may have been one."
"Daddy," said Laddie, carrying on the cross-examination with the intenseearnestness of a child, "could a boa-constrictor swallow any smallanimal?"
"Yes, of course he could."
"Could he swallow a jaguar?"
"Well, I don't know about that. A jaguar is a very large animal."
"Well, then," asked Dimples, "could a jaguar swallow a boa-'strictor?"
"Silly ass," said Laddie. "If a jaguar was only nine feet long and theboa-constrictor was thirty-five feet long, then there would be a lotsticking out of the jaguar's mouth. How could he swallow that?"
"He'd bite it off," said Dimples. "And then another slice for supper andanother for breakfast--but, I say, Daddy, a 'stricter couldn't swallow aporkpine, could he? He would have a sore throat all the way down."
Shrieks of laughter and a welcome rest for Daddy, who turned to hispaper.
"Daddy!"
He put down his paper with an air of conscious virtue and lit his pipe.
"Well, dear?"
"What's the biggest snake you ever saw?"
"Oh, bother the snakes! I am tired of them."
But the children were never tired of them. Heredity again, for the snakewas the worst enemy of arboreal man.
"Daddy made soup out of a snake," said Laddie. "Tell us about thatsnake, Daddy."
Children like a story best the fourth or fifth time, so it is never anyuse to tell them that they know all about it. The story which they cancheck and correct is their favourite.
"Well, dear, we got a viper and we killed it. Then we wanted theskeleton to keep and we didn't know how to get it. At first we thoughtwe would bury it, but that seemed too slow. Then I had the idea to boilall the viper's flesh off its bones, and I got an old meat-tin and we putthe viper and some water into it and put it above the fire."
"You hung it on a hook, Daddy."
"Yes, we hung it on the hook that they put the porridge pot on inScotland. Then just as it was turning brown in came the farmer's wife,and ran up to see what we were cooking. When she saw the viper shethought we were going to eat it. 'Oh, you dirty divils!' she cried, andcaught up the tin in her apron and threw it out of the window."
Fresh shrieks of laughter from the children, and Dimples repeated "Youdirty divil!" until Daddy had to clump him playfully on the head.
"Tell us some more about snakes," cried Laddie. "Did you ever see areally dreadful snake?"
"One that would turn you black and dead you in five minutes?" saidDimples. It was always the most awful thing that appealed to Dimples.
"Yes, I have seen some beastly creatures. Once in the Sudan I was dozingon the sand when I opened my eyes and there was a horrid creature like abig slug with horns, short and thick, about a foot long, moving away infront of me."
"What was it, Daddy?" Six eager eyes were turned up to him.
"It was a death-adder. I expect that would dead you in five minutes,Dimples, if it got a bite at you."
"Did you kill it?"
"No; it was gone before I could get to it."
"Which is the horridest, Daddy--a snake or a shark?"
"I'm not very fond of either!"
"Did you ever see a man eaten by sharks?"
"No, dear, but I was not so far off being eaten myself."
"Oo!" from all three of them.
"I did a silly thing, for I swam round the ship in water where there aremany sharks. As I was drying myself on the deck I saw the high fin of ashark above the water a little way off. It had heard the splashing andcome up to look for me."
"Weren't you frightened, Daddy?"
"Yes. It made me feel rather cold." There was silence while Daddy sawonce more the golden sand of the African beach and the snow-white roaringsurf, with the long, smooth swell of the bar.
Children don't like silences.
"Daddy," said Laddie. "Do zebus bite?"
"Zebus! Why, they are cows. No, of course not."
"But a zebu could butt with its horns."
"Oh, yes, it could butt."
"Do you think a zebu could fight a crocodile?"
"Well, I should back the crocodile."
"Why?"
"Well, dear, the crocodile has great teeth and would eat the zebu."
"But suppose the zebu came up when the crocodile was not looking andbutted it."
"Well, that would be one up for the zebu. But one butt wouldn't hurt acrocodile."
"No, one wouldn't, would it? But the zebu would keep on. Crocodileslive on sand-banks, don't they? Well, then, the zebu would come and livenear the sandbank too--just so far as the crocodile would never see him.Then every time the crocodile wasn't looking the zebu would butt him.Don't you think he would beat the crocodile?"
"Well, perhaps he would."
"How long do you think it would take the zebu to beat the crocodile?"
"Well, it would depend upon how often he got in his butt."
"Well, suppose he butted him once every three hours, don't you think--?"
"Oh, bother the zebu!"
"That's what the crocodile would say," cried Laddie, clapping his hands.
"Well, I agree with the crocodile," said Daddy.
"And it's time all good children were in bed," said the Lady as theglimmer of the nurse's apron was seen in the gloom.