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SIXTH NIGHT
THE STORY OF THE MONKEYS

Such a row there had been all day in Animal Town.

Sa'-zada, the Keeper, had told Magh, the Orang-outang, that the Monkeys were to tell stories that night at the usual meeting. That was the cause of the excitement.

All day the Monkeys, living in a row of cages like dwellers in tenement houses, had chattered to each other through the bars, and admonished one another to think of just the cleverest things any of their family or ancestors had ever done.

"We are like the Men-kind," Magh kept repeating; "we are the Bandar-log, the Jungle People.

"Listen, Comrades, what is my name even? Orang-outang, which means Chief of the Jungle People.

"See, even I have my Dog, as do the Men-kind," and she held up Blitz, the Fox-Terrier Pup, by the ear until he squealed and bit her in the arm. "See, he has bitten me even as he would a man," she cried, triumphantly.

Two doors down were three little brown Monkeys caged with an Armadillo who looked like a toy, iron-plated gun-boat.

"Oh, we are people who think," cried one of these, pouncing down on the Armadillo. The little gun-boat drew his armor plate down about him like a Mud-turtle. The Monkey caught the side of it with his hand, lifted it up, bit the Armadillo in the soft flesh, and raced up on his shelf where he chattered: "Oh, we are the people who think. That is not instinct – my father was never caged with an Armadillo."

At last night came, and Sa'-zada, throwing down bars and opening cages, had gathered as usual his animal friends in front of Tiger's cage.

"Ho, Little Brother," began Black Panther, speaking to Sa'-zada, "why should we who are great in our own jungles listen to these empty-headed Bandar-log? Was there ever any good at their hands?"

"Oo-oo! A-huk, a-huk!" cried Hanuman, "you of all the thieving slayers should know of that matter. How many times have you been saved from danger because of our watchfulness – and also Bagh the Killer! Many a hard drive, the hunt drive of the Men-kind, has come to nothing because of us – because we never sleep. When your stomach is full you sleep soundly, trusting to a warning from us, the Bandar-log. Nothing can be done in the jungles that we do not know. And do we steal silently away as is your method? Not a bit of it. By the safety of Jungle-dwellers! we give the cry of beware! Listen —

"A-huk, a-huk! Chee-chee-chee! Waugh, waugh, a-huk!" and the voice of the gray-whiskered, black-faced ape reverberated on the dead night air through the houses of Animal Town like the clangor of a cracked bell.

"That is quite true," declared Mor, the Peacock; "I also am one of the Jungle Watchers – though I get little credit for it. None of the Dwellers thank us; and sometimes in their anger the Sahibs who are making the drive shoot us for our trouble, saying that we have spoiled sport. Many a jungle life have I saved through my cry of 'Miaou! Miaou!'"

"Disturbers of sleep!" sneered Black Panther; "there is little to choose between you – you're a noisy lot of beggars."

"You are hardly fair, Pardus," remonstrated Sa'-zada. "I quite believe what Hanuman says, for it is well known that some of the Monkey-tribe saved Gibraltar to the British by their watchfulness, and the men are more grateful than you, for to this day monkeys are protected and made much of there."

"It was my people did that," cried Magot, the Rock Ape, blinking his deep, narrow-set eyes. "We have lived there for a long time."

"And in Benares, where I lived once, we are people of great honor," added a white-whiskered Monkey. "I should like to see Black Pardus harm one of us there."

The speaker was Entellus, the sacred Hanuman Monkey, whose rights of protection in the City of Temples, Benares, was almost greater than that of the human dwellers.

"You can't twiddle your thumbs! You can't twiddle your thumbs!" cried Cockatoo, mockingly.

"But I can see my under lip," retorted Magh, angrily, sticking it out and looking down at it, "and that's more than you can do, with your lobster's claw of a nose."

Cockatoo had hit the truth about the thumbs, for no ape can make them go around, only in and out straight to the palm. This matter of thumbs is the great line of defence between man and his disputed Simian ancestor.

"Our manner of life," began Hanuman, in the little silence that ensued, "is to live in the tree-tops. Our families are raised there, and we are seldom on the ground."

"No, the ground is a dangerous place," concurred Chimpanzee; "Leopards, and Snakes, and Men, and evil things of that sort about all the time. I, too, build a little house in the strong branches of a tree, and live there until the fruit gets scarce; then, of course, I have to go to a new part and build another."

"I thought I was the only animal that had sense enough to build a house," grunted Wild Boar.

"Perhaps you are," said Chimpanzee; "I'm no animal."

"You are a Monkey – " began Boar, apologetically.

"I'm not a Monkey," insisted the other, very haughtily; "they go in droves. But we, who are the Jungle People, build houses and have a wife and family just like the Men."

"You can't twiddle your thumbs!" shrieked Cockatoo; but Hathi reached up with his trunk and tweaked the bird's nose before he could repeat the taunt.

"Once upon a time," began Hooluk, solemnly, "there was a great Raja sore troubled because those of my kind, the Apes, ate all the grain and fruit in his country. To be sure, it was a year of much starvation. And the King commanded that all the Bandar-log should be killed.

"Then Hanuman, the wise Ape, who was our cousin, asked of my people what might be done; but we, being tender-hearted, and not knowing how to pacify the King, hung with our heads down and wept in misery.

"Now this gave Hanuman, who is most wise, an idea. He ordered all the other Bandar-log to go far into the jungles and hide, while we were to remain and lament, and declare that our friends were dead. The Raja, hearing our sad cry, relented, and commanded that the killing should cease. And since that time we have always cried thus, and our faces have been black, and all because of the dark sins of the other Bandar-log."

"Was there ever such a lie – " began Pardus; but Jackal interrupted him, declaring that he, too, cried at night because of the wickedness of other Jungle Dwellers.

"By my lonesome life!" muttered Mooswa. "I have heard the Loon cry on Slave Lake, but for a real, depressing night noise commend me to Hooluk. I have no doubt his tale is quite true, a cry such as he has could not have been given him for amusement."

"Scratch my head!" cried Cockatoo; "I think Hooluk's tale is quite true, for even I, who am only appreciated because of my beauty – "

"Hide your nose," croaked Kauwa, the Crow.

"Because of my beauty," resumed Cockatoo, "I once saved the life of all my Master's family. The bungalow was on fire and they were asleep. Scree-ya ah-ah!' I cried; then, 'Quick, Pootai, bring the water – '"

"To be famous one must needs know a great lie and tell it," snarled Pardus, disagreeably. "The way of all Jungle Dwellers is to kill something; but here are pot-bellied, empty-headed Apes, and Birds of little sense, all boasting of saving lives."

"Let me talk," cried Water Monkey, scratching his ribs with industry. "If I tell not true tales then call Hornbill, and Jackal, and King Cobra to stand against me, for we are all of the same land. We were a big family, a full hundred of us at least, and every way was our way – water, and land, and tree-top. We ate fruits, and nuts, and grains, and things that are cast up by the waters. Talking of fishing, you should have seen my mother. When the sea had gone back from the shore we would all troop down. When the Crabs saw us coming they would scuttle into holes and under rocks, and we'd catch every Crab on the shore. It was my mother taught me the trick – wise old lady; I'd shove my tail under the rock, the Crab would lay hold of it, and then out he'd come.

"Oh, there was good eating on those shores. Fat Oysters the size of a banana. It was mother showed me how to take a stone in my hand, and break them off the rocks. And, as Magh has said, we are much like the men, for not one of our family would eat an Oyster until he had washed it in the water.

"But we poor people had lots of trials. Crossing the streams was worst of all. If we made the Monkeys bridge from tree to tree, like as not Python would be lying in wait to pick off one of our number. And if we walked across on the bottom – "

"Walked on the bottom!" cried Sa'-zada, in astonishment.

"Yes, we never swim; we always walk across on the bottom; though, sometimes, of course, we floated over on logs; but that was very dangerous because of Magar the Crocodile."

"Ghurrgle-ugle-ugle, uh-hu!" said Sher Abi, "the long-tailed one is right. I could tell a true story touching that matter. Whuff-f-f! but it was a hot day. I was lying with my wife in the water near the bank. I was hungry – I am always hungry; and getting food in a small way is wearisome to one of my heavy habit. I was resting, and Black-head the Magar Bird was running about inside of my jaws catching Flies for his dinner. And, while I think of it, while I am by no means vain of my sweet nature, I claim it was most good of me to hold my heavy lips open for him. Suddenly Black-head gave his little cry of warning to me and flew up in the air. 'Something is coming,' I whispered to Abni, my wife; and, sure enough, it was the Bandar-log, the Water Monkeys, chattering and yelling, and knocking down fruit from the trees as though the whole jungle belonged to them.

"'The old trick,' I whispered to Abni; 'float across like a log.' You know I can look wondrous like a log when I try; and a dinner of the Bandar-log, even, was not to be despised in a time of great hunger.

"'Chee-chee, a-houp-a-houp, chickety-chee-chee!' You'd have thought their throats would split with the uproar when they saw one log floating across and another just starting.

"'Oh, ho!' cried the leader, swinging by his tail from a limb of the Mangrove tree, and peering down at me; 'the wind is driving all the dead trees from this side to the other. Get aboard, children, quick.' And they all clambered on to my back, shoving and pushing like a lot of Jackal pups – "

"Have I not said it," cried Gidar, the Jackal, "that Sher Abi is a devourer of our young? Jackal pups – murderer!"

"Half way across," resumed Sher Abi, "I opened an eye to take a squint at the general condition of these Bandar-log, as to which might be fat and which might be lean, and, would you believe it, the leader of these fool people saw me looking, and screamed with fright. I closed all the valves of nostrils and eyes and sank in the water. The Bandar-log were so excited that more than half of them jumped into my jaws, and Abni, who came back, hearing the noise, took care of the others. Eh-hu! Gluck! Monkeys are stupid, but not bad eating."

"Listen to that, Comrades," cried Water Monkey. "Sher Abi the Poacher boasts of killing my people. Have I not said that our life is one of danger? He and Python are as bad as Men. My mother was killed by a Man, and all for the sake of a few mangoes."

"But how are we to know that Mango-tree was not as others in the Jungle?" pleaded Monkey. "True it grew close to a bungalow, but what of that? Close to the Jungle, trees and bungalows are so mixed up that nobody knows which is free land and which is bond land. Have I not seen even the Men-kind frightened over such matters, and killing each other. But, as I have said, this Man, who was a Sahib, shot my mother as she was in a tree. She clung to a limb, and, young as I was, I helped her, holding on to her arms. All day she cried, and cried, and cried, just as you have heard the young of the Men-kind; and all night she cried, too. In the morning the Sahib came out, and I heard him say that he hadn't slept all night because of the wailing that was like a babe's. When he looked up at my mother she became so afraid that she fell dead at his feet. Peeping down through the leaves I saw the fear look that Hathi has spoken of come into the Man's eyes, only they did not look evil as they had when he pointed the fire-stick at us. I swung down from branch to branch to my mother, and sitting beside her, cried also, being but a little chap and all alone in the Jungle. Then the Man took me up in his arms and said: 'Poor little Oungea. It was a shame to kill the old girl; I feel like a murderer – '

"He took me into the bungalow and I had a fine life of it, though he taught me many things that were evil."

"I don't believe that," sneered Pardus.

"Impossible! Caw-w!" laughed Kauwa.

"What evil tricks are there left to teach the Bandar-log?" queried Hathi.

"He taught me to drink gin," answered Oungea; "at first a little gin and much sugar, and after a time I could take it without sugar."

"This rather bears out Magh's claim that you Jungle People are like the Men," said Sa'-zada.

"Still it was not good for me, this gin," continued Oungea; "leaving one's head full of much soreness in the morning. But, of course, being young, I was possessed of much mischief that was not of the Sahib's teaching."

"He-he! no doubt, no doubt," cried Hornbill, "it was those of your kind, both young and old, who plucked the feathers from my children once upon a time. Plaintain-at-a-gulp! but their appearance was unseemly. You can imagine what I should look like with my prominent nose and no feathers."

"My Master carried in his pocket something that was forever crying 'tick, tick, tick.' I felt sure there must be Lizards or Spiders, or other sweet ones of a small kind within; but one day when I had a fair opportunity and pulled it apart, cracking it with a stone as I had the Oysters, I got no eating at all, but in the end a sound beating.

"Once I ate the little berries that grow on the sticks that cause the fire – "

"Matches," suggested Sa'-zada.

"Perhaps; I thought they were berries. Many pains! but I was sick, and my kind Master saved my life with cocoanut oil."

"Magh knows something of that matter," declared Sa'-zada; "when she first came here she ate her straw bedding and it nearly killed her."

"A fine record these Jungle People have," sneered Pardus. "I, who claim not to be wise like the Men, have sense enough to stick to my meat."

"But Magh was wise," asserted Sa'-zada, "for if she had not helped us in every way when we were trying to save her life she would surely have died."

"In my Master's house," said Oungea, "was one of their young, a Babe; and whenever I got loose, for they took to tying me up, I made straight for his bed, borrowed his bottle of milk – there surely was no harm in that, for we were babes together – and scuttled up a tree where I could drink the milk in peace. When I dropped the bottle down so that they might get it, it always broke, and I think it was because of this mischief that they whipped me."

"Well," said Sa'-zada, "we were to have learned to-night why the Bandar-log were Men of the Jungle, first cousins to the Men-kind; but all I remember is that they ate matches and straw and got very sick. For my part I am very sleepy."

"If you are tired, I will carry you, Hanuman," lisped Python, shoving his ugly fat head forward.

"Even I, who find it a labor to walk on the land, will give any Monkey who seeks it a ride," sighed Sher Abi. "This talking of eating has made me hung – I mean ready to put myself out for my friends."

"Take your friends in, you mean," snarled Gidar, jumping back as the heavy jaws of the Crocodile snapped within an inch of his nose.

"I think each one will look after himself," declared Sa'-zada; "it will be safer. All to your cages."

SEVENTH NIGHT
THE STORY OF BIRDS OF A FEATHER

When Sa'-zada the Keeper had gathered all his comrades in front of Chita's cage for the evening of the Bird talk, Magh clambered up on her usual perch, Hathi's head, expostulating against the folly of throwing the meeting open to such gabblers.

"Never mind," remarked Black Panther, "it's the great talkers that are thought most of here, I see. We, who have accomplished much, having earned an honest living, but are not over ready with the tongue, amount to but little."

"Scree-he-ah-h!" cried Cockatoo. "By my crest! I am surely the oldest one here; shall I begin, O Sa'-zada?"

"Cockatoo was born in Australia," declared Sa'-zada; "at least The Book says so, but the record of his age only goes back a matter of forty years."

"Just so," concurred the Cockatoo, "and from there I went to India on a ship; and for downright evil words there is no Jungle to compare with a ship. Why, damn it – excuse me, friends, even the memory of my voyage causes me to swear.

"My master, who was Captain of the ship, gave me to one of the Women-kind in Calcutta – 'Mem-Sahib' the others called her. There I had just the loveliest life any poor exiled Cockatoo could wish for; it makes me swear – weep, I mean – when I think of the sweet Eatings she had for me. Not but that Sa'-zada is kind, only no one but a Woman knows how to look after a Cockatoo. At tiffin I was always allowed to come on the table, and the Mem-Sahib would take the cream from the top of the milk and give it to me. The Sahib threw pieces of bread at my head, which is like a Man's way, having no regard for the dignity of a Cockatoo.

"One day, being frightened because of something, I fluttered to the top of his head, which was all bare of feathers, and verily I believe the Man-fear, of which Hathi has spoken, came to my new master. I could almost fancy I was back on the ship, for his language was much like that of the fo'castle.

"Potai was the sweeper, a low-caste Hindoo of an evil presence; and save for the fact that he wore no foot-covering I should have been in a bad way. When the Mem-Sahib was not looking he beat me with his broom, simply because, that often being lonesome, I'd call aloud, 'Potai! Potai!' just to see him come running from the stables.

"Thinking to break him of his evil habit of beating me, many times I hid behind the purda of a door waiting for the coming of his ugly toes. Swisp! swisp! I'd hear the broom; 'Uh-h, uh-h!' old Potai would grunt, because of the stooping, and presently under the purda, which hung straight down, would peep his low-caste toes.

"Click! just like that I'd nip quick, and run for the Mem-Sahib, screaming that Potai was beating me. I'm sure it was not an evil act on my part, for if any Sahib saw it he would laugh, and give me nuts or something sweet. That was because everyone knew that Potai was evil and of a low caste.

"Many a time I saved the tiffin from the thieving crows – "

"Caw-w-w, what-a yar-r-r-n!" growled Kauwa the Crow. "We who are the cleaners of cities are not thieves. What is a Cockatoo? A teller of false tales and a breaker of rest."

"Ca-lack! even what Cockatoo has said of Kauwa is true," declared the Adjutant, solemnly, snapping his sword in its scabbard; "I, who am the cleaner of cities, consider Kauwa but a thief. Once many of the Seven Sisters, for that is the evil name of Kauwa's tribe, stole a full-flavored fish from my very teeth – "

"Aw, aw, aw! let me tell it, let me tell it," cried Kauwa; "let me tell the true tale of my solemn friend's stealing."

"Now we shall get at the real history of the Feathered Kind," chuckled Pardus. "When the Jungle Dwellers fall out amongst themselves and make much clatter, there is always the chance of an easy Kill."

"Caw-aw-aw! It was this way," fairly snapped Crow. "A seller of small things, a box wallah, walking in an honest way fast after the palki of a great Sahib, even on the Red Road of Calcutta, by chance was struck by another palki and his box of many things thrown to the ground. Then this honest one of the straight face, Adjutant, seeing the mishap from his perch on the lion which is over the Viceroy's gate, swooped down like a proper Dacoit and swallowed some brown Eating which was like squares of butter, and made haste back to his perch. Even a Crow would have known better than that, for it was soap. And all day many of the Men-kind stood and looked at our baldheaded friend, for a great sickness came to him; and as he coughed, soap-bubbles floated upward. The Hindoos said it was a work of their gods."

"Just what I thought," grunted Pardus; "all clatter, and no true story of anything."

"Well," sighed Cockatoo wearily, "my Mem-Sahib always put me in a little house on the veranda at night. Though I didn't like it at all, still it was my house, and one day, in the midst of a rain, when I sought to enter, inside were two of the Cat young."

"Kittens?" queried Sa'-zada.

"Ee-he-ah; and just behind me the old Cat with another in her mouth. Hard nuts! but such a row you never heard in your life. When I tried to drag the Kittens out, the Cat dug her beak – "

"Claws, you mean," corrected Sa'-zada.

"Ee-he-ah – claws in my back; but the Mem-Sahib took them away."

"Ugh, ugh! all lies! Bird talk!" grunted Boar. "What say you, Sa'-zada?"

"It is true," declared the Keeper, much to the disgust of his questioner; "for in The Book are also other true tales of Cockatoo. The Mem-Sahib has written that he was a great mischief-maker. She says that on the back veranda of her bungalow was a filter, and when 'Cocky' wanted a bath, he used to turn the tap, but never knew enough to shut it off, so the filter was always running dry.

"Also, there was a guava tree in the compound, and our friend ate all the guavas just as they ripened, so no one but Cocky got any of the fruit. That he was always fighting with Jock, her Scotch Terrier, and the clamor fair made her head ache."

"Whatever Sa'-zada reads from The Book is most certainly true," commented Magh.

"I've been thinking," began the Adjutant, solemnly —

"You look like it," growled Wolf.

"Of a story about Kauwa," continued the Adjutant —

"He stole three silver spoons from my Mem-Sahib," interrupted Cocky hastily, suddenly remembering the incident, "and hid them in the Dog-cart, where they were found next day; which shows that he is neither wise nor honest."

"Mine is a true tale," declared Adjutant, with great dignity. "One morning, looking calmly over the great city to see that all had been tidied up, I saw my little black friend, whose voice is like unto the squeak of a Bullock-cart, crouched in an open window, with wings well spread ready for flight.

"'A new piece of thieving,' thought I, and, drawing closer, I saw Kauwa hop to the floor, pass over to a bed on which slept a Sahib, and gently take a slice of toast from the top of a cup; then away went the thief.

"But the full wickedness was later, for when the Sahib awoke he spoke to his servant in the manner which Cockatoo has related of the ship. And when the other, who was of the Black Kind, declared he had put the toast beside his Master, the Sahib beat him for a liar. Even three mornings did Kauwa take the toast; but on the fourth the Sahib, who was pretending to sleep, nearly broke his back with the cast of a boot."

"Jungle Dwellers are Jungle Dwellers, and City Dwellers are City Dwellers," commenced Hornbill, gravely, "and I'm so glad I'm a Jungle Dweller. These tales show what city life is like. Save for an occasional row with Magh's friends, Hanuman and the rest, whose stomachs are out of all proportion to the quantity of fruit to be had, I have led a very peaceful life in the Jungle."

"Tell me," queried Magh, maliciously, "do your Young roost on your nose?"

"No; that is to keep inquisitive folks at a distance. And, talking of Young, when my wife has laid her two big eggs in a hole in some tree, I shut her up there with the eggs – make her stay home to mind the house and the oncoming family. I plaster up the hole with mud, leaving just a place for her sharp beak; this to keep the Monkeys from stealing her and the eggs."

"Kaw-aw-aw! Talking of nests," said Kauwa, "when I was in Calcutta I designed a nest that would last forever – yes, forever. Each year before that time, because of the monsoon winds, my nest had always been destroyed; but the time I speak of, having a job on hand – "

"On beak, you mean!" laughed Sa'-zada.

"Aw-haw! – to clean up about a cook-house behind a certain place of the Sahib's in which they bottled water of a fierce strength – as I say, being busy in this same compound, I spied many, many twigs of wire."

"What's wire?" asked Mooswa; "I've never, that I know of, eaten such twigs."

Sa'-zada explained, "Kauwa means bottled soda water, I fancy, and the wire from the corks."

"A thought came to me," continued Kauwa, "to build my nest of these bright little things, and I did, first getting my mate's opinion on the matter, of course. Dead Pigs! but it was a nest! We would swing, and jump, and hang to it by our beaks, and never a break in the wall. But I had forgotten all about the selfish desire of the Men – but that was after. The first trouble was when Cuckoo – a proper budmash bird she is – came and laid two eggs in the nest. I saw the difference in the eggs at once, but my mate declared that they were all her own laying. She took rather a pride in her ability to lay eggs – to tell you the truth, we quarreled over it."

"I believe that," yawned Adjutant.

"However, she had her way, and started to hatch out these foreign devils; but the Men, as I have said, seeing my beautiful nest, sent a Man of low caste up the tree, and he took it away, Cuckoo eggs and all. It was a good joke on the Cuckoo Bird, and I was so mad at the way everything turned out, Caw-ha! I never made it again."

"I can swallow a plantain at one gulp," said Hornbill proudly.

"Why do you toss it up first?" asked Sa'-zada, alluding to the peculiar habit the Hornbill has of throwing everything into the air, and catching it as he swallows it.

"It's all in the way of slow eating," answered Hornbill.

"Now," said Myna, "it is surely my turn. I, Myna, who was the pride of the Calcutta Zoo in the matter of speech, have sat here like a Tucktoo not saying a word, and listening to such as Cockatoo boasting about the few paltry oaths he picked up from the Sailor-kind. Why, damn your eyes, sir – "

And before Sa'-zada could still the tumult, Cockatoo and Myna, the best talking Bird of all India, were hurling the most unparliamentary language at each other that had ever been bandied about a Bird gathering.

When Sa'-zada had stopped the indelicate scolding of the two Birds Myna proceeded to tell of his life.

"I was born in the Burma hills, amongst the Shans. That's where I got my beautiful blue-black coat and lovely yellow beak."

"Modest Bird," sneered Magh.

"It was Mah Thin who snared me; but she was good to me, though – rice and fruit, all I could eat; and she never once forgot to put the turmeric and ground chillies in my rice; for, you know, if I did not get something hot in my food I'd soon die. I was somewhat like Cockatoo in that a Ship-man bought me and took me to Calcutta. He made me a most wise bird, and taught me many clever sayings. And when he was in Calcutta with his ship I would be put in the Zoo, so that the Sahibs from all parts might hear my speech.

"One day Tom – that was my master's name; he taught me to call him Tom – said to me, 'To-morrow the Lat Sahib, the Sirdar, and many ladies are coming to hear you talk; Myna.' Then he made me repeat over and over again, 'Good-morning, your Excellency.'"

"It was a hard word he gave you," commented Magh.

"It was indeed. Let claw-nosed Cockatoo try it; he thinks he can talk – let him try that."

"Avast there, you lubber – " commenced Cocky, but Sa'-zada stopped him.

"Well, I said it over and over, and over again, and Tom was so pleased he gave me a graft mango to eat. Next day the Viceroy and many Mem-Sahibs and Sahibs gathered about my cage, and the Viceroy said, 'Good-morning, Polly.' Now this made me mad – to be called Polly, as though I had a hooked nose like Cockatoo; and in my anger I got excited, and, for-the-love-of-hot-spiced-rice, I couldn't think of what Tom had told me to say.

"'Speak up!' said Tom.

"In my anger, and forgetting the other thing, and seeing so many strange faces against the very bars of my cage, I blurted out, 'I'll see you damned first!' just as the sailors used to teach me."

"Caw-haw-haw-haw! Very funny, indeed. Next to a fat bone, or the hiding of a silver spoon, I like a joke myself," commented Kauwa. "Once at the first edge of the Hot Time I went to Simla. That was also at the time of the going of the Sahibs, but after Calcutta it was dull – fair stupid.

"One morning, as I was feeling most lonesome, I spied a long row of queer little Donkeys standing with their tails to a fence. They had brought loads of brick. I flew to the fence, and reaching far down, pulled the tail of my first Donkey. Much food! but he did kick – it made me laugh. I pulled the tail of every Donkey of the line, and when I had finished there wasn't a board left on the fence. Then the Man who was master of the fence, and the one that was master of the Donkeys, fought over this matter, and pulled each about by the feathers that were on their heads. It was the only real pleasant day I had in Simla."

"Did-you-do-it!" screamed the Redwattled Lapwing, suddenly roused to animation by falling off Mooswa's back, where he had been trying to balance himself with his poor front-toed feet.

"Caw-w-w! I did; and for three grains of corn I'd pull your tail, too."

"I wasn't speaking to you," retorted Titiri the Lapwing; "I was dreaming of my old home in India – dreaming that the hunters had come into the rice fields to shoot the poor Paddy Birds and Bakula (Egret) for their feathers."

"Murderers, you should call them, not Hunters," exclaimed Hathi. "It makes me sniff in my nose now when I think of the Birds I've seen murdered, just for their feathers."

"It's an outrageous shame," declared Sa'-zada.

"I did all I could," asserted Lapwing. "When I saw the Gun-men coming, sneaking along, crouched like Pardus – "

"Sneaking like Pardus – go on, Good Bird!" chimed in Magh.