CHAPTER VIII
_The Monster Kabuli_
Skag had learned, in finding Carlin, that it wasn't like a man in Americafinding the one particular and inimitable girl, not even if she were the_laurus nobilis_ and he the eagle of the same coin. In India, wherepeople have pride of race, and time to keep it shining, there areformalities. . . . The two had arranged to meet in the jungle--not deepin the glen where the tiger had coughed, but at the edge toward Hurda,when Skag returned from Poona. He was to go straight into the junglefrom the railway station. Carlin would be watching and followthere. . . .
Sanford Hantee of the Natural Research Department, after much opportunityto wrestle with the subtle and gritty and hard-testing demon of delay,came at last to Hurda again, and stepped out of the coach with a throb inhis chest and a knot in his throat which only the best and bravestsoldiers have brought in from the field. As the moments of waiting atthe edge of the jungle passed, it dawned upon him that something hadhappened, or Carlin already would be with him, at least crossing the bigsun-shot area from the walled city. . . . What had happened is thisstory of the monster Kabuli, which is an animal story even without theentrance of the racing elephant, Gunpat Rao.
Many months before, five merchants came in from far Kabul and sat down inthe market-place at Hurda, day by day unfolding more of their packs.They brought nuts from High Himalaya, foot-hill raisins and the longwhite Kabuli grapes themselves, packed in cotton, a dozen to fifteen inthe box. Then there were dried figs and dates, pomegranates picked upfar this side of the Hills, Kabuli weaves of cloth, and silks inwovenwith gold thread. They were small packs, but worth a great price; whichis important to relate in any company.
Now these five Kabulies were usually together (not too far from thekadamba tree where Ratna Ram sat); and their turbans were of differentcolours, but their hearts were mainly of one kind of hell. Sometimesthey stood and sometimes they moved one by one among the bazaars; butHurda thought of them as one alien presence, and signified that thehugest of them, the monster himself, was also the most hateful anddangerous, which he was.
If I should tell how tall he was exactly, and this in the midst of Sikhsand other of the tallest people of the world, you would think it one ofthe high lights of a writer-man, and if I should tell you of the face ofthis monster; the soft folds of fury resting there in the main; the bulkof loose greyish lids over the whites of eyes flecked with brownpigments; of the sunken upper lip and the nose drooping against it, youwould say long before I had finished, "Let up on the poor beast--"
And this was a rich man, this Kabuli; richer than any of these brothers,and deeper-minded; so that he could think with keener power to make histhought come true. Also, life was more full to him than to the others,so that he could look over the world of his packs; and when he slept inthe midst of his packs, all his treasure was not there. You reallyshould have seen him smile as the head-missionary, Mr. Maurice,approached, and you should have seen the smile change to a sneer, withouta flick of difference in the expression of the eyes. And perhaps it isjust as well that you missed the look that came into the eyes of themonster Kabuli when the beautiful English missionary, Margaret Annesley,passed.
Miss Annesley was Carlin's closest friend in Hurda. They worked togetheramong the women and children, among the sick and hungry, and found muchto do, without entering the deeper concerns of soul-wellbeing which Mr.Maurice attended. These last were rather reticent concerns of Carlin,especially. Mr. Maurice protested against their moving through certainparts of the city, against entering Mohammedan households, or thequarters of the bazaar women--all of which talk was well-listened to.Miss Annesley had no fear, because she was essentially clean. She waseffective and tireless, a thrilling sort of saint; but she could see noevil, not even in the monster Kabuli. Carlin had no fear because she wasCarlin; but she had a clear eye for jungle shadows--for beasts, saints,and men. As for the Kabuli, she quietly remarked:
"Why, Margaret, can't you see he's a mad dog?"
In other words, Carlin used the optic nerve as well as the vision said tobe of the soul.
"But, my dear, he seemed really stirred," Miss Annesley protested.
"I do not doubt he was stirred," Carlin replied. Her mind was the mindof India, with Western contrasts; also it was familiar from both angleswith the various attractive attributes of her friend. . . . But MargaretAnnesley continued to greet the monster Kabuli from time to time. Havinggreat means and worldly goods and riotous health, he had nothing todiscuss but his soul--which few beside Margaret would have foundostensible.
"I tell you he has _rabies_," Carlin once repeated.
This did no good; so she went to Deenah who was Miss Annesley's servant,a Hindu of the Hindus and priceless. Deenah declared that he was alreadyaware of the danger; that he missed nothing; also that he was watchful asone who feared the worst.
Deenah was a small man, swift and noiseless. He had an invincibleequilibrium and authority in his own world, which was a considerableestablishment back of the dining-room, including a most delectable littlecreature even smaller than Deenah, but quite as important, and sharingall light and shadow by his side. Deenah had a look of forked lightningand a mellow voice. The more angry he became, the more caressing histones.
One day while he was down in the bazaars buying provisions, the monsterKabuli beckoned Deenah to come closer. They stood together--terrier andblood-hound--and Deenah listened while the form and colour of betterconditions was outlined for his sake. . . . The Kabuli had heard thatDeenah was a great servant; he had heard it from many sources, even thatDeenah was favourably compared with the chief commissioner's favouriteservant--who was a picked man of ten thousand.
Deenah inclined his head, hearkening for the tone within the tone, butgravely acknowledged that he had heard much in this life harder to listento.
The Kabuli continued that Deenah was no doubt appreciated on a smallscale in the house of Annesley Sahiba; but the establishment itself, aswell as the people, was inadequate to offer scope for the talents of sucha man as Deenah; also that Deenah was remiss in making no betterprovision for the future of his own household; also, the gifts should beconsidered--and now the Kabuli was opening his packs.
Deenah granted that life was not all sumptuous as he might wish, but hehad been given to understand no man's life was so in this world; he wouldbe glad now, to hear the plan by which all that he lacked could appearand all that he hoped for, come to pass.
The Kabuli opened wider his treasures. Deenah's narrow-lidded eyesfeasted upon the wealths and crafts of many men. . . . And the plan hadto do, not with this night nor with the next, but with the night afterthese two nights were passed, and Deenah's Sahiba and the Hakima(literally, the physician, which meant Carlin) were to be brought for theevening to the house of the Kabuli's friend, one Mirza Khan, aMohammedan, whose soul also was in great need.
Deenah's voice was gentle as he enquired how he was to be used--whyriches accrued to him, since it was the life of the life of his mistressto serve those ill or in need, body or soul. The Kabuli replied that hewas not sure that the Sahiba would go to a Mohammedan house, even withher friend the Hakima, unless Deenah could assure his mistress that theMohammedan was well known to him and honourable, his house an abode offellowship and peace.
Deenah considered well, in soft tones saying presently that he could notaccomplish this thing alone, but must advise with his fellow-servants whowere trustworthy. In fact, if the Kabuli could come this afternoon--whenthe Sahiba and the Hakima would be away--and tell his story once more, inthe presence of the utterly reliable among the servants--all might bebrought to pass.
The Kabuli did not care for the plan, but Deenah repeated that he couldnot do this thing alone; his voice admirably gentle, as he reiterated hisown helplessness. . . . Still he granted with hesitation that the Sahibadeigned to trust him to a degree. . . . At this moment the Kabuli sawDeenah's eyes forking at the treasure-pack. There was longing in themthat was pain. The fac
e of Deenah was the face of one struck andcrippled with his own needs, which point helped the Kabuli to decision.
The terms of the agreement were made straight and fixed. Deenah wentback to his house where he made the monster's plan known to the servants.In the afternoon, when the house was empty, the monster Kabuli called andopened a small pack in the quiet shade of the compound, before the eyesof six men and one woman, as much Deenah as himself. . . . When the timein the story came that Deenah was to use his influence upon the mind ofhis mistress, there seemed a slowness of understanding among the otherservants; so that the Kabuli had to speak again and very clearly.
Just now the head of Deenah bent low over the open pack, the movement ofhis hand instantly drawing and filling the eye of the trader from Kabul;and then it was that the Sahiba's _syce_, who was a huge man,materialised a _lakri_ from under his long cotton tunic--the _lakri_being a stick of olive-wood from High Himalaya and very hard. This hebrought down with great force upon the hugest and ugliest head in allCentral Provinces at that time.
Merely a beginning. Six other _lakris_ were drawn from five othertunics--the extra one for Deenah.
The great body was dragged farther back toward the servants' quarters.Here Deenah officiated. With each blow he enunciated in caressing tones,some term of the agreement . . . until he heard the protest of the motherof his little son:
"Shall you, Deenah, who are only her man-servant, have all the privilegeof defending the Sahiba--to whom I, Shanti, am as her own child?"
And Deenah, not missing a count, cried:
"Come and defend!"
So Deenah's wife and the other women came, bringing the smooth handstones with which they ground the spices into curry powder. . . . Andwhen the beating was over, they carefully tied up the pack of the Kabuliand sealed it without a single article missing. Then they carried thebody out of the compound, across the main highway, beyond the parallelbridle-road, and let it slide softly down into the little _khud_ beyond,deeper and deeper each year from erosion.
A little afterward, that same afternoon, Margaret Annesley and CarlinDeal were walking along the bridle-path. Hearing a moan they looked overinto the khud, where the monster Kabuli was coming to. He managed toraise one hand, but the movement of the fingers somehow struck the pityfrom Carlin's heart. It was not a clean gesture of a chastened man.Even though his body was terribly bruised and broken, the face was thatof Ravage in person. Carlin pulled her companion on. They hastened tothe bungalow where the tied pack was in evidence and strange soundsreached them from the servants' compound.
It was the picture of a tranced group that they saw--Deenah sitting uponthe ground, uttering frightful low curses securely coupled together--inthe language of all languages for this ancient art. The others werearound him, even two or three of the women.
"Deenah!" Miss Annesley called.
The concentration was not to be broken.
"Deenah--is a madness come to this place?"
The head of her priceless servant was bowing close to the ground, but hismind was still away; and in high concord to his tones, were the tones ofthe small delectable one, whose eyes, dark and vivid, were the eyes ofJael singing her song after slaying Sisera. Margaret turned to her_syce_. There were tears and sweat in his eyes, but no answering humangleam.
"Carlin--" she said. "Help me carry the _daik-ji_--"
It was a huge vessel containing several gallons of cool water; and thiswas lifted by four hands and poured upon Deenah, whose eyes met them atonce with the light of reason.
"Bear witness, I am cursing softly," he said.
"Are you my head servant?"
"I am thy servant."
"And you permit this bazaar-tamasha in your compound?"
Deenah observed that this was not an affair upon which he could speak tothe Sahiba, his mistress. Meanwhile Carlin watched Deenah's eyes fillwith the keen reds of bloody memory.
"Go away, Margaret," Carlin said. "He will talk to me. Please go now.In six breaths he will be back in his trance again--"
So it happened. Deenah watched his mistress depart, then he raised hiseyes to Carlin, saying:
"The Hakima will understand. These things are not for the Sahiba--"
"Speak--"
Deenah arose, saying: "It is not good for you to set foot in my house,but come to the threshold; then neither my voice nor the voices of theseshall enter her understanding--"
Deenah pointed to the rest of the servants who gathered around.
The tale of the monster Kabuli was unfolded to Carlin without a singleinterruption for several moments; in fact, until Margaret Annesley camerunning forth, crying:
"Are you never going to cease talk and carry help to the Kabuli--who ishurt?"
Carlin beckoned her back. "Not hurt, dear. He is ill. He hashydrophobia."
"Our protection depends upon you," Deenah concluded, to Carlin. "Wecommit ourselves to you; we render our lives and honour into your care.You alone, Hakima-ji, can present the story of these doings to the chiefcommissioner, whose name we hold in honour above other men. Will you seethat it be known--not one thread has been taken or changed from the packof the Kabuli; also, the chief commissioner--out of his equity which hasnever failed--shall judge us, _knowing_ that we did the beating for theSahiba's sake."
The chief commissioner at Hurda was a good and a just man. He listenedseriously and spoke to Carlin of the value of good Indian servants in thehouses of the English; of the dangers of the tiger in the grass and theserpent upon the rock and the Kabuli in the khud--to whom he would attendat once.
It was many weeks after that when the case was called, and Deenah's eyesgrew red-rimmed like a pit-terrier's as he told the story again, but hisvoice fondled the ears of those present in the court-room. . . . One byone, the other four Kabulies left the market-place in Hurda; and when themonster himself had been made to pay and his healing had beenuninterrupted for many weeks, there came, a day when the unwalled city ofHurda knew him no more.
He was not forgotten, even though months sped by; for in Miss Annesley'sheart was a pang over the big man who had been horribly hurt. . . .Meanwhile for Carlin all life was changed--as the magic of swiftafterglow changes every twig and leaf and stem. Then came her hard days,watching for Skag's return--the weeks passing while he waited in Poona.Every morning from a distance, she observed the train come in from theSouth. When Skag did not appear, sometimes she would go alone for awhile to the edge of the jungle, but never deep, because he had asked hernot to. Sometimes it was an hour or two before she was ready to look outat the world or the light again. . . .
One early morning as she crossed the market-place, Carlin saw a strangeelephant there with his mahout; and a messenger approached deferentially,asking if she were the Hakima, and if she could lead the way to AnnesleySahiba. . . . Four hours' journey away--this was the messenger'sstory--a native prince whose dignity included the keeping of oneelephant, an honourable dispensation from Indian Government, had calledin great need for the ministration of the Hakima, and that of her friend,Annesley Sahiba--for lo, unto him a child was to be born.
Carlin asked if she were needed at once--thinking of the many days andthe train at noontime. The messenger said that within four hours he wastold to deliver the Hakima and Annesley Sahiba at the palace door. Hefollowed along, and the elephant came behind him, as she walked towardMargaret's bungalow. . . . If Skag were to come this day, shethought! . . . Deenah was away, but Carlin left word with his wife thatshe would be back that night, or early the next day. Margaret was ready.Carlin was in the howdah beside her, before there was really a chance tothink.