Wee Willie Winkie.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 977, 21 November 1890, Page 11

Wee Willie Winkie.

(BY BUnYARD KIPLING.) ‘An officer and a gentleman.’ ~“ a name was Percival William Vwl.iams, but he picked np the other name m a nursery book, and that was the end of ~ christened title. His mother’s ayah called . m Wfific-Baba, but, as he nfever paid the faintest attention to anything that the ayah said, her wisdom did not help matters. His father was Colonel of the One Hundred and Ninety.fifth, and as soon as Wee Willie Winkie was old enough to understand whatjmilitary discipline meant Colonel Williams put him under it. There was no other way of managing the child. When he was good for a week he drew good, conduct pay ; and when he was bad he was deprived of his good.conduct stripe. General y he was bad, for India offers so many chances to little 6-year-olds of going wrong. 6 b

Chddren resent familiarity from strangers, and Wee Willie Winkie was a very particular child.- Once he accepted an acquaintance, he was graciously pleased' to thaw. He accepted Brandis, a subaltern of the One Hundred and Ninety.fifth, on sight. Brandis was haying tea at the Colonel’s and VV ee Willie W inkio entered, strong in the possession of a good-oonduct badge won for not ohasing the hens round the compound. He regarded Brandis with gravity for at least ten minutes and then delivered himself of his opinion. ‘I like you,’ said he slowly, getting off his chair and coming over to Brandis. • I like you, I shall call you Coppy, because of your hair. Do you mind being called Goppy ? It is because of ve hair, you know.’

Herewas one of tho most embarrassing of Wee Willie Winkie's peculiarities. He would look at a stranger for some time, and then, without warning or explanation, would givo him a name. And the name stock. No regimental penalties could break Wee Willie Winkie of this habit. He lost his good-conduct badge for christening the Commissioner’s wife ‘Pobs’j bnt nothing that the Colonel could do made the Station forego the nickname, and Mrs Collen re. mained Mrß ‘ Pobs ’ till the end of her stay. So Brandis was christened ‘ Coppy,’ and rose, therefore, in the estimation of the regiment.

If Wee Willie Winkie took an interest in any one, the fortunate man was envied alike by the mess and the rank and file. And in their envy lay no suspicion of self interest. ‘The Colonel’s son’ was idolized on his own merits entirely. Yet Wee Willie Winkie was not lovely. His face was permanently freckled, as his legs were permanently scratched and, in spite of hia mother s almost tearful remonstrances, he had insisted upon having his long yellowlocks cut short in the military fashion. * I want my hair like Sergeant Tnmmil’s,’ said Wee Willie Winkie, and hia father abetting, the sacrifice was accomplished. Three weeks after the bestowal of his youthful affections on Lieutenant Brandis —henceforth to be called * Coppy ’ for the sake, of brevity—Wee Willie Winkie was destined to behold strange things and far beyond his comprehension. Coppy returned his liking with interest. Coppy had let him wear for five rapturous minutes his own big sword-jußt as tall as Wee Willie Winkie. Coppy had promised mm a terrier puppy; and Coppy had permitted him to witness the miraoulous operation of shaving. Nay, more—Coppy had said that even he, Wee Willie Winkie, would rise in time to the ownership of a box of shiny knives, a silver soap-box and a silver.handled ' sputter-brush,’ as Wee Willie Winkie called it. Decidedly, there was no one except his father, who could give or take away good-oonduct badges at pleasure, half so wise, strong and valiant as Coppy, with the Afghan and Egyptian medals on his bre*Bfc, Why, then, should Coppy be guilty of the unmanly weakness of kissing vehemently kissing—a ‘ big girl,’ Miss Allardyce to wit ? In the courss of a morning ride, Wee Willie Winkie had seen Coppy so doing, and, like the gentleman that he was, had promptly wheeled round and cantered back to his groom, lest the groom should also see.

Under ordinary circumstances he would have Bpoken to his father, but he felt instinctively that this was a matter on which Coppy ought first to be consulted.

* Coppy,’ shouted Wee Willie Winkie, reining up outside that subaltern’s bungalow, early one morning—M want to see you, Coppy!’ ‘Come in, young ’un,’ returned Coppy, wbo wa3 at early breakfast in the midst of his dogs, ‘ What mischief have you been gutting into now ?’ Wee Willie Winkie had dene nothing notoriously bad for three days, and so stood on a pinnacle of virtue.

'l’ve been doing nothing bad,’ said he, curlipg himself into a long ohair with a studious affectation of the Colonel’s langour after a hot parade. He bujrifd his freckled nose in a teacup, and, with eyes Btaring roundly over the rim, asked : ‘ I say, Coppy, is it pwoper to kiss big girls ?' ‘By Jove ! You’re beginning early. Who do you want to kiss ?’

‘Noone. Mymavver’s always kissing me if I don’t stop her. If it isn’t pwoper, how was you kissing Major Allardyoo’s big girl last morning by ve cknsl ?’

Coppy’s brow wrinkled. He and Miss Allardyce bed with great craft managed* to keep their engagement secret for a fortnight. There were urgent and imperative reasons why Major Allardyce should not know how matters stood for at least another month and this small marplot had discovered a great deal too muoh.

‘lsaw you,’ said Wee Willie Winkie calmly. 'But ve groom didn’t see. I said * Hut jao.’ * you had that much sense, you young Rip,’ groaned poor Coppy, half-amused and half-angry. ‘And how many people mav you have told about it V

‘ Only me myself. You uidn’t tell when I twied to wide ve buffalo v: a my pony WOB lame ; and I fought you wouldn’t like. ‘Winkie,’ said Coppy, enthusiastically shaking the small hand, ‘you’re the best of good fellows. Look here, you oan’t understand all these things. One of these days hang it, how can I make you see it! I’m going to marry Miss Allardyce, and then she 11 be Mrs Coppy, as you say. If yollr young mind is so scandalized at the idea of kissing big girls, go and tell your father,’ ‘What will happen’’ said Wee Willie Winkie, who firmly believed that his father was omnipotent. ‘I shall get into trouble,’ said Coppy playing his trump card, with an appealing look at the holder of the ace. “

‘ Ven I won’t,’ said Wee Willie Winkie briefly. «But my faver says Its un-man-ly to be always kissing, and I didn’t fink von’d do vat, Coppy.’ ‘ I’m not always kissing, old chap. It’s only now and then, and when you’re bigger you’ll do it too. Your father meant it’s not good for little boys.’ ‘Ah!’ said Wee Willie Winkle, now fully enlightened. ‘lt’s like ze splutter; brush.’

‘ Exactly,’ said Coppy gravely. -.' i don't fink I'll ever want to kiss big girls, nor no one, ’cept my muvver. And I must vat, you know.’ There was a long pause, broken by Wee Willie Winkie.

‘Are yon fond of vis big girl, Coppy V ‘ Awfully 1’ said Coppy. ‘Bonder van yon are of Bell or ve Bntoha —or me V

Its in a different way,’ said Coppy. You see, one of these days Miss Allardyce will belong to me, but you’ll grow up and command the regiment and—all sorts of things. It’s quite different, you see ’ ‘Very well,’ said Wee Willie Winkie rising. ‘lf you’re fond of ve girl, I won’t tell any one. I must go now.’ Coppy rose and escorted his Bmall guest to the door, adding : ‘You’re the best of little fellows, Winkie. I tell you what. In thirty days from now you can tell if you like -tell any one you like.’ Thus the secret of the Brandis. Allardyoe engagement was dependent on the little word. Coppy who knew Wee Willie Winkle’s idea of truth, was at ease, for he felt that he would not break promises’. Wee Willie Winkie displayed a speoial and unusual interest in Miss Allardyce, and, slowly revolving round that embarrassed young lady, was used to regard her gravely with unwinking eye. He was trying to discover why Coppy should have kissed her. ShQ was not half so nice as his own mother* On the other hand, she was Coppy’s prop, erty, and would in time belong to him. Therefore it behoved him to treat her with as much respect as Coppy’s big sword or shiny pistol.

The idea that he shared a great secret in common with Coppy kept Wee Willie Winkie unusually virtuous for three weeks. Then the Old Adam broke out, and he made what he called a ‘ camp-fire’ at the bottom of the garden. How could he have foreseen that the flying sparks would have lighted the colonel’s little hay-riok and consumed a weok’s store for the horses? Sudden and swift was the punishment—deprivation of the good conduct badge and, most sorrowful of all, two days’ confinement to barracks —the house and veranda—coupled with the withdrawal of the light of his fathet’s countenance.

He took the sentence like the man he strove to be, drew himself up with a quiver, ing under-lip, saluted, and, once clear of the room, ran to weep bitterly in his nursery—called by him *my quarters.’ Coppy came in the afternoon and attempted to console the culprit. ‘l'm under awwest,’ said Wee Willie Winkie, mournfully, ‘andi didn’t ought to speak to you.’

Very early the next morning he climbed on to the roof of the house—tb3t was not forbidden—and beheld Miss Allardyce going for a ride.

‘ Where are you going V cried Wee Willie Winkie.

‘Across the river,’ she answered, and trotted forward.

Now the cantonment in which the One Hundred and Ninety.fifth lay was bounded on the north by a river—dry in winter. Prom hia earliest years Wee Willie Winkie had been forbidden to go across the river, and had noted that even Coppy—the almost almighty Coppy—had never set foot beyond it. Wee Willie Winkie had once been read to, out of a big blue book, the history of the Princess and the Goblins—a most wonderful tale of a land where the Goblins were always warring with the ohildren of men until they were defeated by one Curdie. Ever sinoe that date it seemed to him that the bare, black and purple bills across the river were inhabited by Goblins, and, in truth, every one had said that there lived the Bad Men, Even in his own house the lower halves of the windows were covered with green paper on account of the Bad Men who might, if allowed clear view, fire Into peaceful drawing-rooms and oomfort•bio bed rooms. Certainly, beyond the rivor, which was the end of all the Earth, lived the Bad Men. And here was Major Allardyce’s big girl, Coppy’s property, preparing to venture into their borders ! What would Coppy say if anything happened to her?—if the Goblins ran off with her as they did with Curdie’s Prinoess ? She must at all hazards be turned baok. The house was still. Wee Willie Winkle reflected for a moment on the very terrible wrath of his father ; and then—broke his arrest 1 It was a crime unspeakable. The low sun threw through hia shadow, very large and

very black, on the trim garden-paths, as he went down to the stables and ordered his pony. It seemed to him in the hush of the Jf* 11 that all the big world had been bidden to stand still and look at Wee Willie Winkie guilty of mutiny. The drowsy groom handed him his mount, and, since the w 6 , 8 *? Made all others insignificant, Willie Winkie said that he was going to ride over to Coppy Sahib, and went ont at a foot paoe, stepping on the soft mould of tho flower borders.

The devastating traot of the pony’s feet was the last misdeed that out him off froari all sympathy and humanity. He turned into the road, leaned forward, and rode as fast as tho pony could put foot to the ground in the direction o£ the river. But the liveliest of twelve-two ponies can . l'ttle against the long canter of a Waler. Miss Allardyce was far ahead, had passed through the crops, beyond the police-post, when all the guards were asleep, and her mount was scattering the pebbles of the river-bed as Wee Willie Winkie left the cantonment and British India behind him. Bowed forward and still flogging, Wee Willie Winkie shot into Afghan territory, and could just see Miss Allardyoe a black speck, flickering aoross the stony plain/ The reason of wandering was simple enough. Coppy, in a tone of too-hastily assumed authority, had told her over night that she must not ride out by the river. And she had gone to prove her own spirit and teach Coppy a lesßon.

Almost at the foot of the inhospitable hills Wee Willie Winkie saw the Waler blunder and come down heavily. Miss Allardyce struggled clear, buc her ankle had been severely twisted and she could not stand. Having thus demonstrated her spirit she wept copiously, and was surprised by the apparition of a white, wide-eyed child in kbaki, on a nearly-spent pony. Aro you badly, badly horted?’ shouted Wee Willie Winkie, as soon as he was within range. ‘ You didn’t ought to be here.'

‘ldon’t know,’ said Miss Allardyoe, ruefully, ignoring the reproof. ‘ Good graoious. child, what are you doing here ?' 1 You said you was going across ve wiver,’ panted Wee Willie Winkie, throwing himself off his pony. ‘And nobody—not even Coppy—must go acwoss ve wiver, and I came after you ever so hard, but you wouldn’t stop, and now you’ve hurted yourself, and Coppy will be angry wiv me, and— I’ve bwoken my awwest! I’ve bwoken my aw west.!’

The future Colonel of the One Hnndred and Ninety-fifth sat down and sobbed. In spite of the pain in her ankle the girl was moved.

* Have you ridden all the way from the cantonments, little man ? What for ?’

‘ You belonged to Coppy. Coppy told me so I’ wailed Wee Willie Winkie disoon, solately. ‘ I saw him kissing you, and he said he was fonder of yon van Bell or ve Butoha or me. And so I came. You must get up and come baok. You didn’t ought to be here. Vis is a bad place, and I’ve bwoken my awwest.’ ‘lcan’t move, Winkie,’ said Miss Allar. dyce with a groan. * I’ve hurt my foot. What shall I do ?’

She showed a readiness to weep afresh, whiob steadied Wee Willie Winkie, who had been brought up to believe that tears were the depth of nnmanliness. Still, when one is as great a sinner as Wee Willie Winkie, even a man may be permitted to break down.

‘ Winkie,’ said Miss Allardyce, * when you’ve rested a little, ride back and tell them to send out something to carry me back in. It harts fearfully.' The ohild sat still for a little time and Miss Allardyce closed her eyes; the pain was nearly making her faint. She was roused by Wee Willie Winkie tying up the reins on his pony’s neok and setting it free with a vicious cut of his whip that made it whicker. The little animal headed toward the cantonment.

‘ Oh, Winkie ! What aro you doing ?’ ‘Hußh !” said Wee Willie Winkie, ‘ Vere’s a man coming—one of ve Bad Men. I must stay wiv you. My faver says a man must always look after a girl. Jack will go home, and ven vey’ll come and look for us. Vat's why I let him go.’ Not one man, but two or three, had appeared from behind the rooks of the hills, and the heart of Wee Willie Winkie sank within him, for just in this manner were the goblins wont to steal out and vex Curdie’s soul. Thus had they played in Curdie’s garden—he had seen the'picture—and thus had they frightened the Princess’ nurse. He heard them talking to each other, and recognized with joy the bastard Pushto that he had picked up from one of his father’s grooms lately dismissed. People who spoke that tongue conld not be the Bad Men. They were only natives, after all.

They came up to tho boulders on which Miss AUardyce's horse had blundered.

Then rose from the rock Wee Willie Winkie, child of the Dominant Race, aged six and three-quarters, and said briefly and emphatically ‘Jaol' r !he pony had crossed the river-bed.

The men langhed, and laughter from natives was the one thing Wee Willie WiQkie could not tolerate. He asked them what they wanted, and why they did not depart. Other men with most evil faces and crookedatooked gnns crept out of the shadows of the hills, till, soon, Wee Willie Winkie was face to face with an audience some twenty strong. Miss Allardyce screamed. ‘ Who are you V said one of the men. ‘I am the Colonel Sahib's son, and my order is that yon go at once. Yon blaok men are frightening the Miss Sahib. One of you mnst ran into cantonments and take the news that Miss Sahib has hart herself, and that the colonel’s son is here with her.’

‘ Put our feet into the trap ?’ was the laughing reply. ‘ Hear this boy's speech !’ ‘ Say that I sent you—l, the Colonel’s son. They will give you money.’ * What is the use of this talk ? Take up the child and the girl, and we oan at least ask for the ransom. Ours are the villages on the heights,’ said a voice in the baclu ground. These were the Bad, Men-—worse than Goblins —and it needed all Wee Willie

Winkle’s training to prevent him from bursting into tears. But be felt that to cry before a native, excepting only bis mother's ayah, would be an infamy greater tha£ any mutiny. Moreover, he, as future Colonel of the One Hundred and Ninety.fifth, bad that grim regiment at his back.

‘ Are yon going to carry ns away ?’ said Wee Willie Winkie, very blanched and uncomfortable.

‘ Yes, my little Sahib Bahadur,’ said the tallest of the men, * and eat you afterward. 9 ‘That is child’s talk,’ said Wee Willie Winkie. ‘Men do not eat men.’

A yell of laughter interrupted him, but he went on firmly, • And if you do oarry us away, I tell yon that all my regiment will oome up in a day and kill yon all without leaving one. Who will take my message to the Colonel Sahib ?’ “

Speech in any vernacular and Wee VVnhe Winkio had a colloquial acquaintance with three—was easy to the boy who coaid not yet manage his • r’s ’ and ‘ th’s ’ aright. . Another man joined the conference, crying . ‘ 0 foolish men ! What this babe Bays is true. He is the heart’s heart of those white troops. For the sake of peace let them go both, for if he be taken, the regi. ment will break loose and gut the valley. Our villages are in the valley, and we shall not escape. That regiment are devils. They broke Khoda Yar’s breast-bone with kicks when he tried to take the rifles ; and if we touoh this child they will fire and rape and plunder for a month, tilt nothing remains. Better to send a man back to take the message and get a reward. I say that this child is their God, and that they will spare none of ns, nor our women, if we harm him.’

It was Din Mahommed, the dismissed groom of ttye Colonel, who made the diversion, and an angry and heated discussion followed. Wee Willie Winkie, standing over Miss Allardyoe, waited the upshot. Surely his ‘ wegiment,’ his own ‘ wegiment * would not desert him if they knew of his extremity.

The riderless pony brought the news to the One Hundred aud Ninety.fifth, though there had been consternation in the Colonel’s household an hour before. The little beast came in through the parade ground in front of the main barracks, where the men were settling down to play Spoil-five till the after, noon. Devlin, the colour-sergeant of E. Company, glanced at the empty saddle and barrack-rooms, kicking up each room corporal as he passed. * Up, ye beggars ! There’s something happened to the Colonel’s" son, he shouted.

‘He couldn’t fall offl S’eip me, ’e couldn’t fall off,’ blubbered, a drummer-boy. ‘Go an’ hunt acrost the river. He’s over there if he’s anywhere, an’ maybe those Pathans have got ’im. For the love o’ Gawd don’t look for ’im in the nullahs ! Let’s go over the river.’

‘ There’s sense in Mott yet,’ said Devlin. ‘ E Company, double out to the riversharp 1’

So E Company, in its shirt-sleeves mainly, doubled for their dear life, and in the rear toiled the perspiring Sergeant, adjuring iu to double yet faster. The cantonment was alive with the men of the One Hnndred and Ninety-fifth hunting for Wee Willie Winkie, and the Colonel finally overtook E Company, far too exhausted to swear, struggling in the pebbles of the river-bed.

Up the hill nnder which Wee Willie Winkie’s Bad Men were discussing the wisdom of carrying off the child and the girl, a lookout fired two shots. ‘What have I said?’ shouted hommed. There is the warning! The pulton are out already and are coming across the plain I Get away 1 Let us not.be seen with the boy !’ The men waited for an instant, and then, as another shot was fired, withdrew'to the hills, silently as they had appeared. ‘The wegiment is coming,’ said Wee Willie “Winkie confidently to Miss Allardyce, ‘ and it’s all wight. Don’t cwyl’ He needed the advice himself, for ten minutes later, when his father came np, he was weeping bitterly with his head in Miss Allardyce’s lap. And the men of the’ One Hundred and Ninety-fifth carried him home with shouts and rejoicings ; and Coppy, who had ridden a horse into a lather, met him, and, to his intense disgust, kissed him openly in the presence of tbe men. But there was balm for his dignity. His father assured him that not only would the breaking of arrest be condoned, but that the good conduct badge would be restored as soon as his mother could sew it on his blousesleeve. Miss Allardyce had told the Colonel a story that made him prond of his son, ‘She belonged to you, Coppy,’ said Wee Willie Winkie, indicating Miss Allardyce with a grimy forefinger. ‘ I knew she didn’t ought to go acwoss ve wiver, and I knew ve wegiment would come to me if I sent Jack home.’

‘ You’re a hero. Winkie,’ said Coppy : * a pukka hero I’

‘ I don’t know what vat means,’ said Wee Willie Winkie, * but you mustn't call me Winkie any no more. I’m Peroival Will’am Wiliams.’

And in this manner did Wee Willie Winkie enter into his manhood.