The Sahib’s Little Lark.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXVII, Issue IX, 31 August 1901, Page 423

The Sahib’s Little Lark.

Teddy Jeoffries and Harry Maylands, Calcutta, agjd respectively 18 and 20, sat smoking on the verandah of the Grants’ bungalow at Nuddea. These two young scapegraces were spending their six weeks' leave with the Grants. Mrs. Grant was Teddy's sister, and Harry Maylands was Teddy's friend and boon companion. “Look,” suddenly remarked Teddy, “there goes that Jasodha again, with that everlasting bundle on her head. Oft to the river to wash, I suppose, and I’ll bet you she’s left her babies squirming about in the hut to scrap for themselves, poor little kids.” Young Maylands slowly drew up his long legs, removed his fragrant cheroot, and glanced between the scar-let-blossomed pomegranate trees into the dusty road, where a tall Indian woman, with a saree draped gracefully round her voluptuous form, was passing. She was balancing a large bundle on her head, and walked with a graceful swinging motion. “By Jove, though,” said Maylands, “she’s got the face and figure of a Hebe, if only she wasn't black. These Indian women are wonderfully beautiful.”

“I should like to give the old girl a jolly fright,” said Teddy. “I say, old man,” he chuckled, suddenly seized with a brilliant idea, and giving Maylands a vigorous slap on the shoulder, “let’s have a lark. Suppose we ‘cop’ Mrs. Jasodha’s babies, what a scare the old girl will get. It will

teach her a lesson in maternal duty,” continued the irrepressible Teddy. “Oh, confound you. Ted,” retorted his companion, rubbing his injured shoulder. “I wish you weren’t so deuced energetic, and the thermometer 150 in the shade. Bother the woman's babies. Look here, 1 want a whisky peg, my throat’s as dry as pepper."

“So’s mine,” said Teddy. “Here you, Beehma! Beehma!” he yelled. “What can have got the lazy dog. These blessed servants are never about when you want ’em.” A dusky form appeared at the door; the man’s face wore a broad grin. In fact, he was all grin. “Here, Beehma, you lazy dog, you. bring us two whisky pegs, and be quick about it, and don’t stand there grinning like a hyena.” “Yes, Sahib,” was all he said as he made a profound salaam and disappeared inside. “That fellow does annoy me with that sardonic grin of his," remarked Maylands. “I'm sure he is a treacherous brute.”

“All your fancy, my dear boy. Beehma is a rum dog, but a splendid servant. The Grants would not part with him for the world.”

Beehma appeared with the tray, grinning more than ever, salaamed and glided off. The men sipped their whisky and discussed their plan.

“We’ll slip round after tiffin," chuckled Maylands. “Take a couple of tea baskets with us, and dump the little beggars in. If we are seen folks will only think we have been to the plantation. What a lark it will be.” Just then Mrs. Grant appeared at the door. She was a pretty, fair English girl. “Oh! you naughty boys,” she said, “to be drinking whisky at your tender age, and five minutes before tiffin, too; shame on you!” “Well, Edith, a fellow must do something to pass the time,” yawned her brother, “and it keeps us out of mischief. You oug'ht to be thankful for that, you know,” he said, gravely. “Yes, but while you drink whisky you hatch the mischief.” Mrs. Grant well knew her brother’s propensity for mischievous pranks, very often to her cost. “But come in and have tiffin, you pair of disgraces.” "Well, what are you fellows going to do with yourselves this afternoon?” enquired Tom Grant, as soon as they were seated. “Yes,” said Edith. “Why don't yon do something? You've done nothing but get Into mischief ever since you came here. Have Sultan and Morning Light saddled and ride over to Simla and call on the Kings. You really oug’ht to, after the dance.” Teddy put his tongue in his cheek, winked and kicked his friend under the table. “Oh! Edith, spare me that,” making a wry face. “I’ll never forgive that Dora King, never.” “Why?” asked his sister in surprise. “For dancing on my toes the way she did. They were reduced to a jelly after the first, dance. That girl would make her fortune if she hired herself out by contract for levelling the roads at Simla." “Teddy, I’m ashamed of you. How can you speak so disrespectfully of anyone? Remember, Dora King is a thorough lady,” said his sister. “Being a lady don’t make any difference to the size of her feet, does it?” “I’m ashamed of you,” repeated Edith. “All right, old girl, so long as I've got you to blush for me I shall be all right,” said the incorrigible boy. By Jove! Edith, this curry is extra/ good,” applying himself with renewed vigour to his plate. Edith heaved a despairing sigh; her wild brother was a great trouble to her. “We thought we would take a stroll over and have a look at the plantation this afternoon,” said Harry Maylands, addressing Tom Grant. After tiffin the three men strolled over to the plantation, which was but a few minutes’ walk from the bungalow, a ten-acre clearing surrounded or three sides by dense jungle. Such a hubbub of life nnd noise, the coolies and graceful native women busy picking ten, shouting and calling to each other in Hindustani, for the Indians are the noisiest people In the world. The voices of the white clad overseers, shouting to the “aig-

gers” in the vulgar tongue (for a native will not work unless he is sworn at) added to the general confusion. After staying long enough to allay suspicion by talking and discussing the tea crop, our friends watched their chance, possessed themselves of two empty tea baskets, and slipped out.

“We must look sharp,” said Teddy; “it's almost time to knock off work, and we’ll have the ‘niggers’ about our ears."

A few minutes brought them to the native village which was nestling beside the jungle, a mere collection of huts. Not a creature was about; the great tropical sun blazed cruelly down; everything seemed to quiver and shake under the intense heat. “Now for it,” grinned Teddy. “Wonder if the little beggars have crawled down to the river? More likely to be in the hut though.”

“There, they are!” cried Maylands as he caught sight of two comical little black figures sitting in the opening of one of’?he huts, and regarding the intruders with a solemn stare on their queer ebony faces.

Their sole attire consisted of a “key” attached to a scarlet cord, which was slung round their fat waists, put there by their mother as a charm to ward off the evil eye. They were fine twins of perhaps a year old, and were alike as tw’o peas. Both were contentedly sucking their thumbs.

“Good afternoon,” remarked Teddy politely with a profound salaam. “The Sahibs come to take little black fellows ta-ta.”

The infants slowly removed their thumbs, remarked something to each other in gurgling Hindustani, then turned to the Sahibs with a fat smile of approval. “Like to come? Thought so,” said Teddy. Amid much crowing and gurgling the infants were packed into the baskets and submitted with lamblike

meekness to be covered with the leaves of the tea plant.

“By jove," remarked Maylands, “what game little beggars. I thought they would have yelled like the very mischief.”

“Yes, but it will be just as bad if they carry cn like this,” said Teddy as the infant he carried in his basket hilariously popped its biack head up through the leaves and gave vent to a delighted chuckle.

“Oh keep still, you little beggars.” The plantation bell suddenly clanged out. Teddy groaned.

“We had better run or we’ll have the whole pack in full cry if they see us.”

There was not a moment to lose; in a few seconds the natives would swarm out of the plantation, and if they were caught—well it is better not to speculate upon what would have been the consequences. Quick as thought our friends tucked the baskets under their arms and bolted as fast as their legs could carry them. The infants wobbled and bumped, crowed and chuckled with delight, evidently thinking this all part of-the programme. “Oh, 1 say,” gasped Maylands when they arrived at the bungalow gate. “There’s Mrs Grant on the verandah; we’re cooked sure as eggs.”

“No fear! You go and talk to Edith and keep her occupied. Make love to her; tell her she’s the most beautiful woman in India—anything —only for goodness’ sake keep her occupied." said Teddy excitedly. “I’ll dodge behind these palm trees, watch my chance, and then slip round to our room with the baskets. Go on man, quick, or she’ll spot us.” Maylands walked reluctantly up the path leaving Teddy in charge of the baskets, from which one of the infants had escaped, and was going on a voyage of discovery round the

garden. Teddy dragged it back and dumped it into the basket regardless of its indignant squeals. After dinner that evening the Grants, in company with our two friends, were sitting on the verandah of the bungalow. The night was a beautiful one; that subtle indescribable scent that belongs only to an Indian night hanging over everything. The glorious yellow moon shone like a lantern in the sky. The palm trees whispered and nodded to each other in the scented air. “I consider,” Teddy was remarking, with a grand air, “that the way these Indian women leave their ” A loud pitiful wail broke upon the still evening air. “Hark! What was that?” cried pretty Mrs Grant, starting up in alarm. The wail was followed by another and another, finally developing into ear splitting shrieks. Then came a flying figure up between the palm ■trees, and prostrated itself before them. “Oh, Sahibs, Providers of the Poor, Representatives of God, turn not from the voice of your slave!” “Well, what is it?” asked Tom , Grant kindly. “Oh, my Lord Sahib! Woe is me! The evil dye is fallen! My babes, the light of mine eyes, are gone; devoured by some evil beast. I have prayed to Krishna, and behold, he will not hear. Oh, woe is me!” and the woman lifted her poor black face, upon which the mother love shone on every feature. It was Jasodha. Our friends wriggled somewhat uncomfortably in then- chairs. Perhaps they had a conscience stowed away somewhere, who knows? “Do not despair, Jasodha,” said Tom Grant. “Your babies may have crawled into the jungle. We will eome at once and help search for them.” “Oh, my’ Lord Sahib, as rain to the parched field so are thy words unto thy slave, for to help the afflicted is a nobler deed than to sacrifice to the gods,” said the poor woman as she pathetically embraced his boots. “The old girl’s quite eloquent,” grinned Teddy, as he dug May-lands in the ribs. “Come on. you boys. Get some torches and we'll start,” said Tom. Edith begged to be allowed to gc too, so each armed with a flaming torch, the procession moved to th« gate, Jasodha running in front, call ing upon her gods to protect her chil dren. In the interval of preparing t< start, our friends assured themselves of the safety of the infants. They were peacefully sleeping between ths white sheets of one of the beds Teddy locked the door and possessei himself of the key. Oh, the wild ex

After dinner that evening the Grants, in company with our two friends, were sitting on the verandah of the bungalow. The night was a beautiful one; that subtle indescribable scent that belongs only to an Indian night hanging over everything. The glorious yellow moon shone like a lantern in the sky. The palm trees whispered and nodded to each other in the scented air.

“I consider,” Teddy was remarking, with a grand air, “that the way these Indian women leave their ”

A loud pitiful wail broke upon the still evening air.

“Hark! What was that?” cried pretty Mrs Grant, starting up in alarm.

The wail was followed by another and another, finally developing into ear splitting shrieks. Then came a flying figure up between the palm trees, and prostrated itself before . them.

“Oh, Sahibs, Providers of the Poor, Representatives of God, turn not from the voice of your slave!” “Well, what is it?” asked Tom . Grant, kindly. “Oh, my Lord Sahib! Woe is me! The evil dye is fallen! My babes, the light of mine eyes, are gone; devoured by some evil beast. I have prayed to Krishna, and behold, he will not hear. Oh, woe is me!” and the woman lifted her poor black face, upon which the mother love shone on every feature.

It was Jasodha. Our friends wriggled somewhat uncomfortably in their chairs. Perhaps they had a conscience stowed away- somewhere, who knows?

"Do not despair, Jasodha,” said Tom Grant. “Your babies may have crawled into the jungle. We will eome at once and help search for them.”

“Oh, my- Lord Sahib, as rain to the parched field so are thy words unto thy slave, for to help the afflicted is a nobler deed than to sacrifice to the gods,” said the poor woman as she pathetically embraced his boots. “The old girl’s quite eloquent,” grinned Teddy, as he dug Maylands in the ribs. “Come on. you boys. Get some torches and we'll start,” said Tom. Edith begged to be allowed to go too, so each armed with a flaming torch, the procession moved to the gate, Jasodha running in front, calling upon her gods to protect her children. In the interval of preparing to start, our friends assured themselves of the safety of the infants. They were peacefully sleeping between the white sheets of one of the beds. Teddy locked the door and possessed himself of the key. Oh, the wild excitement of that search. The village was all astir, the natives calling loudly upon their gods, the jungle beaters ready armed with stout sticks and lighted torches, for though the moon shone brightly, it did not penetrate the dense depths of the jungle. Foremost in the search were the two hardened culprits, enjoying it to the full. A huge fire was lit. which shed a lurid glare for miles, and our friends worked like Trojans, stoking the great fire and beating about the jungle. For hours the search continued, but no trace of the missing babies was found, which of course was not extraordinary’. Pretty Mrs Grant was trying to comfort the unfortunate Jasodha, who was well nigh distracted. “Say Ted, old man,” said Maylands, **l think it’s time we cut this. We’ve Jiad a jolly lark; let’s go and get the kids, slip back, pretend we found them in the jungle, present them to their distracted parents, and the ■atives will treat us like a couple of gods ever after.” They slipped off, made their way nut of the jungle, and hurried to the bungalow. It was quite deserted. All the native servants were away assisting in the search. Teddy was the first to go into the froom. “The devil.” he exclaimed. “What’s up?” said Maylands, following close at his heels. THE CHILDREN WERE GONE. “Heavens!” exclaimed Teddy, staring at the empty bed. “perhaps they have c -nwled underneath, ' us he dived under to look. ’

But no, they were not underneath the bed, or anywhere in the room. “What the Dickens can have got them?” groaned Maylands, “the door was locked. I’m sure no living being could scale that partition (which was open at the top for ventilation), and drag two babies after them. It’s queer.”

Then a second search began, one that was desperately earnest. There was no levity about this search, but it was just as fruitless as the other. After looking in every possible and impossible place and finding no trace of the children our friends were obliged to abandon the quest as hopeless. “We’ve got ourselves into a proper hole this time,” groaned Teddy with a woebegone expression. “Wouldn’t the follows roar if they knew,” and a ghost of a smile played round the corners of his lips at the thought. “I say, old man, can’t you suggest something?” “The only thing I see is to make a clean breast of it to Tom and see if he can help us out.” “Yes, I suppose that’s the only thing,” said Teddy, gloomily, but I don’t relish telling him. Tom is such an upright old sort, and makes a fellow feel such a cad. Confound it all, let’s have a smoke.” They went inside and settled down to their cigars, with very gloomy countenances. Presently steps were heard upon the gravel. Teddy sprang up in his chair. “By Jupiter! Here they are, Hal, old man. I can’t face it. I’d rather face an infuriated tiger than the lecture we shall get from Tom.” “Too late, old man; the Philistines are upon us.” “Well, I must say you boys look jolly comfortable,” remarked the cheery voice of Tom Grant, as he entered the room with his wife. “Is this what you gave us the slip for?” “Any luck?” inquired Maylands, with a sickly smile. “No; it’s all up with the poor little beggars, I’m afraid; no trace of them anywhere. The tigers must have got them, or else the crocodiles.” Pretty Mrs. Grant shuddered. “Don’t you think,” said Teddy, “that someone, may have taken the old girl’s babies, just for a lark, to give her a jolly scare? These native women are very careless about their children.” “Nonsense, Ted, the fellow who would do a mean trick like that must be nothing short of a cad, and deserves horsewhipping.” Poor Teddy totally collapsed. • “You boys look a bit queer,” said Tom. “What’s the matter?” “I think we’re in for an attack of ague,” said Maylands feebly. “No, we’re not,” cried Teddy, jumping up, the light of determination shining in his honest eyes. “I’ll have to tell the truth or burst. I stole the blessed kids.” Then Harry Maylands pulled himself together, and came to the rescue, related the whole incident, from the purloining of the infants, their return from the jungle, and their dismay at finding the youngsters gone, how they had only intended it for a piece of harmless fun, never dreaming the consequences would be so serious. “We should be awfully grateful?” he added, “if you could help us out of this.” Tom Grant looked seriously annoyed. “H'm,” he said, “case of the biter bit, eh? I suppose you are aware that if the children are not found it will be uncommonly awkward for you. The only thing is to make a clean breast of it to the natives,” and, with a grim smile, “I wouldn’t be in your shoes for something—go” “Oh! No! No!” sobbed Edith, as she sprang up and flung her arms round her brother, “they will rend them limb from limb. Oh! Tom, how can you be so cruel?” “It’s all right. Edith,” said Teddy, soothingly. “Whatever I am I don’t think I am a coward, and I guess I’ll come out top end up. Good-bye, old girl, take my watch for a keepsake, in case I come off worst. There, there, don’t cry. This diamond pin yon might send to the Clifford girl and tell her—tell her— ’’ with a queer break in his voice—“l’m an awfid cad, and not worth bothering about. Goodbye, darling,” and he kissed her affectionately. Edith clung to her brother, sobbing wildly; her husband

came and whispered something in her ear, which brought a faint smile to her woebegone face, and she released him. “Good-bye, Tom, old man,’’ said Teddy, with a gulp, and extending his hand. Tom took it solemnly. “Thanks for all you’ve done for me.” Young Maylands made his adieus with a face that would have done credit to any undertaker. Teddy slowly walked to the door, followed by Maylands. “No, old man," said Teddy, “you're not in this; it's all my fault, and I’m going to fight it out myself.” “Come back! You couple of asses!” roared Tom, choking with laughter, “do you suppose I'm going to leave you in this hole. I only wanted to scare you.” “No, old fellow,” answered Teddy, firmly. “I've done a caddish thing and I must get out of it the best way I can. I guess we’ll fight it out. It will be a bit of sport for the natives. And, Tom, old man, if I should fall, tell the fellows—”

“Shut up with that Idiotic drivel,” interrupted Tom. “You pair of innocents, don’t you know that there is one thing that will console the distressed parents for their loss?” “No. What is it?” said Teddy; eagerly. “Money,” answered Tom, lightly. “’Pon my word," cried the boy, joyfully, “I never thought of that,” and the light of life beamed in every feature of his good natured face. “Oh, Tom! Look! Look! A tiger,” suddenly exclaimed his wife in a voice of terror, as she pointed out of the window by which she had been standing.

All turned to look, and true enough there was a huge tiger stealthily making its way up the moonlit path. “Oh, Tom. dear, get your gun quick!” gasped Edith, as she jumped upon the table, “or we shall all ba eaten.”

“All right, little woman. I don’t think there is much danger,” said Tom, looking out of the window. “I fancy the thing is injured. See how slowly it walks. Look, it is holding up one of its fore paws. I’ll just see what’s the matter. Maylands, will you come with me. Ted, old man. you take care of Edith. It’s quite safe, little girl,” seeing the look of terror on her face. He opened the door. By this time

the tiger had reached the verandah, and as soou as it saw the open door made a bolt inside, and straight into the room, giving vent to the most dismal growls. Edith gave a terrified scream.

The tiger evidently did not intend to attack any of them, but lay down on the floor and growled and roared as if in agony. Edith plucked up courage and cams down from the table.

“It must be in dreadful pain, poor thing,” she said. “Look at the swollen paw. I’ll get some hot water and bathe it.

The animal began to screw itself into the most horrible contortions, and tied itself into knots, writhed and squirmed and growled in a truly blood curdling manner. “Oh. it’s going to have a fit!” cried Edith, again taking refuge upon the table. “Oh, Tom,” with a piercing shriek, “I do believe it has eaten thq children!”

'Die unhappy boys started violently at Edith’s horrible suggestion, and things were getting worse and worse. No doubt now as to what was the matter with the animal. They wera red-handed murderers, and would carry the brand of Cain to their graves.

Suddenly the great beast rose on its hind legs. There stood Beehma — Beehma, with the broadest of grins on his black face! And on the floor sat Jasodha’s twins, who immediately set up a chorus of lusty howls. No one spoke for a moment. Our friends' faces were studies. Beehma was enjoying the situation immensely. He had a keen sense of humour, had this Beehma.

“Beehma.” said Tom Grant, sternly, “What fool’s trick is this?”

Beehma’s only answer was another grin.

“Stop grinning, you infernal idiot, and tell us where you found the children.”

With great difficulty Beehma composed his features to their normal condition and answered: “Beehma hear Sahib's talk. Sahibs have lark. Beehma have lark, too. Climb over partition. Steal babies out of charpoy (bed).” “You confounded black scoundrel, you,” said Teddy, shaking him violent* ly. Then slipping his hand into hia pocket, “Here are twenty rupees for you.” i MAY HENDERSON.