*CHAPTER V.*
_*NOAK-HOLLY.*_
Alive in the jungle. These words, which had brought such comfort tolittle Kathleen in her childish simplicity, were torture to Mr.Desborough, as he pictured his boy dropped by the wolf in the midst ofthe pathless wilds, the dwelling-places of those ravenous beasts, andnot of them alone. He thought of the birds of prey that lodged unheededin those stately trees--the brooding vultures, the screaming kites. Heseemed to see the poisonous hissing snakes, the stinging scorpions, andcreeping things innumerable, that infest the trackless undergrowth ofthe hill forests.
"Tell me anything but that!" he exclaimed, shuddering. The search wasrenewed with an added desperation. By the water's edge, among the broadcrinkly-edged lily leaves which starred the stream and formed fairyrafts for innumerable water-wagtails, he found a fragment of embroideredmuslin, torn off by cruel teeth from Carly's tiny sleeve. He saw it wasblood-stained. He saw no more, for the fierce sun shot its hottest raysupon his uncovered head. His hat fell as he stooped to secure it, and hesank unconscious on the slippery bed of the drying stream.
"Dropped with the heat," said the major, who thought all further searchwas vain, and he bade the servants convey their master home.
The house was now hermetically closed, every door and window shut up toexclude the heat. The well-moistened tatties cooled the hot air as itpassed through them, and kept the darkened rooms just bearable.
It is the custom of most families in India to have two breakfasts: onequite early; the second, which is called _tiffen_, resembles the French_dejeuner_, and is ready a little before noon. The early breakfast hadbeen forgotten by every one in Noak-holly that morning. The blackservants were gliding noiselessly about; and when the major inquired forhis little fairy Kathleen, they confidentially informed him that thelittle beebee would not eat.
"Bring her in to tiffen," said the major; and he strolled into thefamiliar dining-room, where he found his new acquaintance of themorning, Miss Bona St. Faine, seated in solitary state. At any othertime, the odd expression of her face would have convulsed him withlaughter. She was new to Indian ways, and was looking very blankly atan empty table to which she had been solemnly conducted by Mr.Desborough's butler, Bene Madho. She was feeling very hungry,understood she was summoned to breakfast, and saw nothing before her butflowers. Oliver, who had just emerged from the bathroom, appeared atanother door.
"I wish," she said almost petulantly, "you would not leave me in suchawkward fixes in a stranger's house. You might behave a little morelike a gentleman, Oliver. In such circumstances as these no one likesto give trouble, but I am really getting ill for want of food."
"It is coming," said her brother, as the black servants, who had onlybeen waiting for the major, made their appearance, handing round courseafter course of fish and curry and game.
Down flew a whole troop of impudent young sparrows. Some darted afterthe dishes in the servants' hands, and others set to work on the crumbsby Bona's plate, quite unabashed by the near neighbourhood of her knifeand fork.
Little Kathleen was brought in by her ayah, a coolie following, anxiousto obey to the uttermost the incoherent charges of their prostratemaster--"Take care of my little Kathleen."
The stately Bene Madho brought her plate of stewed fowl and rice, theusual diet of children in India; but it stood untasted before her. Themajor patted her feverish cheek, afraid to allude to her lost brother,for fear of bringing on another passionate outburst of her childishsorrow. He sent the ayah away, thinking the child would only copy thelamentations and cries in which she indulged--a display of grief verydistasteful to the English officer. His young companions sat silent andconstrained, watching Kathleen.
"She will fret herself into a fever before night," said the major."Weeping becomes dangerous with the thermometer at 110 deg.. I mustintrust her to you, my dear young lady. Try and comfort her."
But from all Bona's endeavours Kathleen shrank. She did not want thestrangers; she wanted her own mamma; she longed only to creep into somequiet corner and cry unseen. This was just what the major was chargingBona to prevent. The shy child fixed her large pleading eyes on the oldsoldier's face, and the white lips moved, but there was no word that anyof them could understand.
They had fetched her away from her ayah, feeling as if the nurse must bein some way to blame for the catastrophe of the night, and was no longerto be trusted.
"She ought never to have the care of these children again," said Bonaenergetically. "Stranger as I am, I will remain with the little girl,if Mrs. Desborough wishes me. I will, indeed, if they are going to sendthe woman away."
"What a Job's comforter you are!" muttered Oliver, as the spoon fellfrom Kathleen's fingers in dismay.
"It was not my ayah let in the wolf; it was me," Kathleen sobbed. "Letme go and tell mamma all about it."
"Tell me," suggested the major, drawing her between his knees.
"O my dear!" exclaimed Bona, horrified. "Surely you never did. Howcould you be so naughty?"
Oliver got up and stood by the major, that he might not lose a singleword of the faltering confession.
"I never can be happy until Carly's found--never, never!" murmuredKathleen, putting both her little hands into the major's, and repeatingearnestly, "You will tell mamma it was all my doing."
The gravity of the look which stole over the major's face as he listenedchoked Kathleen's voice with sobs, for she felt every one would blameher, and she was shy and sensitive.
"How could you meddle with the blind?" exclaimed Bona. "Only think, mydear, of the terrible consequences!"
"Yes, talk to her, Miss St. Faine," said the major. "She must never dosuch a thing again."
Bona laid her hand on Kathleen's shoulder, but she shook it off, anddarting away into the darkest corner of the hall, hid herself behind herfather's door, dislodging a whole family of toads, who had crept indoorsto find a shelter from the heat. Kathleen's kitten hotly resented thisintrusion, and sprang after them with tail erect and bristling hair.The toads receiving many sharp pats on their broad backs from heruplifted paw, were driven across the hall, backwards and forwards,keeping Bona dancing on one foot as she tried to follow Kathleen. Butat last she fled in disgust, as the whole toad family were sent leapinginto her dress by pussy's officious paw.
"Oliver! Oliver!" she entreated.
He came to her help with a laugh, which seemed so out of place in themournful house he felt ashamed of himself the next minute. He kneltdown beside Kathleen. "I like you, my little woman," he whispered."You took the blame on your own shoulders, like a brick. Oh, whatlittle shoulders they are! Of course, a boy would have done so. Don'tfret about how the wolf got in too much. They are awful creatures. Iam a sailor boy. Terrible things happen at sea. My father was captainof a merchant vessel. I have been to Calcutta before with him. He diedat sea. The mate brought the ship into port. Bona is only aschool-girl, fresh from England. She was coming out to uncle, so theysent me on with her. Never mind her, she is such a fuss-fuss!"
Awkward as Oliver's attempts at consolation were, Kathleen felt theywere sincere. She looked into his honest brown eyes and repeated herquestion--the question every one shrank from answering--"What will thebig wolf do with Carly?"
"Iffley," called Mr. Desborough from the other side of the chintzcurtain which did duty for a door, "stop those children's tongues, or Ishall go mad."
The major laid an imperative hand on Oliver's arm and marched him offinto the veranda, where a mat in a shady corner invited him to take thesiesta he so much needed after his night-journey. The ayah carriedKathleen away in her powerful arms.
The stifling, burning heat grew more and more intense. The heavy sleepof sorrow slowly stole over the desolated household, and the weary daywore on. The coolies, who had been abroad since the dawn, returned oneby one to eat their rice and repeat the same tale--"No trace! no hope!"There was nothing more to be done.
There is no land like India forsudden calamity. Those of us who pass many years among its rice-fieldsand banyan trees learn a resignation and a promptitude in action notcommon elsewhere. To do quickly all that ought to be done, before it istoo late, is so imperative that no one was surprised when Mr. Desboroughannounced his determination to send Mrs. Desborough and the two childrenstill left to them to the hills immediately.
"This very night, if it were possible!" he exclaimed, as he caught upRacy, only to grieve the more over the loss of poor little Carly. Aterrible fear of another midnight alarm oppressed the whole household.The syces lighted fires close outside the compound, to scare away anywild beasts which might be prowling about in the groves and thickets.Every precaution was taken.
The sun was sinking. The brief ten minutes of summer twilight had comewhen every one in India hurries into the open air. The long white lineof road winding between the shady rows of trees was alive with traffic.Bona and Oliver stood ready for departure, watching the novel scene.
Straggling groups of workers from the indigo factory loitered round thegates of Mr. Desborough's compound--hideous-looking creatures withwaist-clothes, hands and faces all blue: a whole troop of Bluebeards,which Bona thought would haunt her very dreams. They meekly drew asideand salaamed to the ground, as a gilded carriage, drawn by a pair ofwhite humped oxen, swept by. A long line of carts, creaking under theirloads of indigo pulp, quickly followed. The scantily-clothed villagerswho accompanied them were uttering most unearthly cries to encouragetheir weary beasts. A deafening sound of splashing of water andstamping of feet told of the near neighbourhood of a drove of buffaloesreturning to their homes for the night.
Oliver looked for them in vain. They were making a pathway through thepool, and only the tips of their noses were to be seen as they sniffedthe evening air, or snatched a mouthful of lily-leaves with snorts ofrejoicing; while groups of merry children on the opposite bank werewashing all the clothing they had--a broad white calico sash orwaist-cloth. Their washing was a curious performance. They banged oneend of the sash on a smooth stone, just under the water, until itfluttered before them white as snow, then they turned it and washed theother end.
A group of travellers, resting under a tree on the opposite side of theroad, watched the lighting of the fires with evident curiosity, as theypassed a friendly hookah, or pipe, from one to another. They smoked,and listened to the remarks of the indigo-workers, who were charging thechildren to hasten home before the darkness gathered.
All were talking, all were discussing the disaster of themorning--rejoicing that the wolf had eaten the bullet of the sahib, andtheir children might sleep in peace.
Major Iffley was bargaining with a party of coolie wallahs, who had comefrom the village, to carry Bona's dandy to the judge's bungalow.
Mrs. Desborough put back the curtain of her tent, and waved a farewellto the brother and sister on the eve of their departure, and entreatedthe major to remain with them that night at least.
She was pale and calm, but the havoc which that day had made in herappearance had reduced her to a shadow of her former self.
"Not me only, but my loaded gun," he answered, as he hastened to assureher every precaution they could devise was already taken.
Bona and Oliver drew a few steps nearer, looking the sympathy they knewnot how to express in words. But the curtain fell suddenly, and theysaw no more of the mournful mother behind it. Even the major, oldfamily friend as he was, would not, could not intrude on the sacrednessof a grief like hers.
He shook hands with his new young friends, hoped for a happier meetingbefore long, and returned to the veranda of Mr. Desborough's bungalow.He loaded his gun with scrupulous care, and beguiled the wearynight-watch by smoking an unlimited number of pipes, and growling at thenumerous inmates of sun-cracked walls and retired corners, not tomention the disturbances of the punkah coolies, who cried out in terrorevery time a big Langour monkey stole across the lawn or a wild-catleaped from the trees, one and all declaring that another wolf had ranaway with the little beebee.
To have had a real skirmish with a wolf, a panther, or even a tiger,would have been less distasteful to the English officer than soothingthe midnight fancies of the dismayed household, or escaping from theunwelcome attentions of Kathleen's pet lizard, which had left itsfavourite retreat behind the pictures in the dining-room for a midnightstroll in the veranda.