Chapter XXXV. THE LITTLE ONES IN BULIKA

It was early in the morning when we set out, making, between the blue

sky and the green grass, a gallant show on the wide plain. We would

travel all the morning, and rest the afternoon; then go on at night,

rest the next day, and start again in the short twilight. The latter

part of our journey we would endeavour so to divide as to arrive at the

city with the first of the morning, and be already inside the gates when

discovered.

It seemed as if all the inhabitants of the forest would migrate with us.

A multitude of birds flew in front, imagining themselves, no doubt,

the leading division; great companies of butterflies and other insects

played about our heads; and a crowd of four-footed creatures followed

us. These last, when night came, left us almost all; but the birds and

the butterflies, the wasps and the dragon-flies, went with us to the

very gates of the city.

We halted and slept soundly through the afternoon: it was our first real

march, but none were tired. In the night we went faster, because it was

cold. Many fell asleep on the backs of their beasts, and woke in the

morning quite fresh. None tumbled off. Some rode shaggy, shambling

bears, which yet made speed enough, going as fast as the elephants.

Others were mounted on different kinds of deer, and would have been

racing all the way had I not prevented it. Those atop of the hay on the

elephants, unable to see the animals below them, would keep talking to

them as long as they were awake. Once, when we had halted to feed, I

heard a little fellow, as he drew out the hay to give him, commune thus

with his “darling beast”:

“Nosy dear, I am digging you out of the mountain, and shall soon get

down to you: be patient; I’m a coming! Very soon now you’ll send up your

nose to look for me, and then we’ll kiss like good elephants, we will!”

The same night there burst out such a tumult of elephant-trumpeting,

horse-neighing, and child-imitation, ringing far over the silent levels,

that, uncertain how near the city might not be, I quickly stilled the

uproar lest it should give warning of our approach.

Suddenly, one morning, the sun and the city rose, as it seemed,

together. To the children the walls appeared only a great mass of

rock, but when I told them the inside was full of nests of stone, I saw

apprehension and dislike at once invade their hearts: for the first time

in their lives, I believe--many of them long little lives--they knew

fear. The place looked to them bad: how were they to find mothers in

such a place? But they went on bravely, for they had confidence in

Lona--and in me too, little as I deserved it.

We rode through the sounding archway. Sure never had such a drumming of

hoofs, such a padding of paws and feet been heard on its old pavement!

The horses started and looked scared at the echo of their own steps;

some halted a moment, some plunged wildly and wheeled about; but they

were soon quieted, and went on. Some of the Little Ones shivered, and

all were still as death. The three girls held closer the infants they

carried. All except the bears and butterflies manifested fear.

On the countenance of the woman lay a dark anxiety; nor was I myself

unaffected by the general dread, for the whole army was on my hands and

on my conscience: I had brought it up to the danger whose shadow was

now making itself felt! But I was supported by the thought of the coming

kingdom of the Little Ones, with the bad giants its slaves, and the

animals its loving, obedient friends! Alas, I who dreamed thus, had not

myself learned to obey! Untrusting, unfaithful obstinacy had set me at

the head of that army of innocents! I was myself but a slave, like any

king in the world I had left who does or would do only what pleases him!

But Lona rode beside me a child indeed, therefore a free woman--calm,

silent, watchful, not a whit afraid!

We were nearly in the heart of the city before any of its inhabitants

became aware of our presence. But now windows began to open, and sleepy

heads to look out. Every face wore at first a dull stare of wonderless

astonishment, which, as soon as the starers perceived the animals,

changed to one of consternation. In spite of their fear, however, when

they saw that their invaders were almost all children, the women came

running into the streets, and the men followed. But for a time all of

them kept close to the houses, leaving open the middle of the way, for

they durst not approach the animals.

At length a boy, who looked about five years old, and was full of the

idea of his mother, spying in the crowd a woman whose face attracted

him, threw himself upon her from his antelope, and clung about her neck;

nor was she slow to return his embrace and kisses. But the hand of a man

came over her shoulder, and seized him by the neck. Instantly a girl ran

her sharp spear into the fellow’s arm. He sent forth a savage howl, and

immediately stabbed by two or three more, fled yelling.

“They are just bad giants!” said Lona, her eyes flashing as she drove

her horse against one of unusual height who, having stirred up the

little manhood in him, stood barring her way with a club. He dared not

abide the shock, but slunk aside, and the next moment went down, struck

by several stones. Another huge fellow, avoiding my charger, stepped

suddenly, with a speech whose rudeness alone was intelligible, between

me and the boy who rode behind me. The boy told him to address the king;

the giant struck his little horse on the head with a hammer, and he

fell. Before the brute could strike again, however, one of the elephants

behind laid him prostrate, and trampled on him so that he did not

attempt to get up until hundreds of feet had walked over him, and the

army was gone by.

But at sight of the women what a dismay clouded the face of Lona! Hardly

one of them was even pleasant to look upon! Were her darlings to find

mothers among such as these?

Hardly had we halted in the central square, when two girls rode up in

anxious haste, with the tidings that two of the boys had been hurried

away by some women. We turned at once, and then first discovered that

the woman we befriended had disappeared with her baby.

But at the same moment we descried a white leopardess come bounding

toward us down a narrow lane that led from the square to the palace. The

Little Ones had not forgotten the fight of the two leopardesses in the

forest: some of them looked terrified, and their ranks began to waver;

but they remembered the order I had just given them, and stood fast.

We stopped to see the result; when suddenly a small boy, called Odu,

remarkable for his speed and courage, who had heard me speak of the

goodness of the white leopardess, leaped from the back of his bear,

which went shambling after him, and ran to meet her. The leopardess,

to avoid knocking him down, pulled herself up so suddenly that she went

rolling over and over: when she recovered her feet she found the child

on her back. Who could doubt the subjugation of a people which saw an

urchin of the enemy bestride an animal of which they lived in daily

terror? Confident of the effect on the whole army, we rode on.

As we stopped at the house to which our guides led us, we heard a

scream; I sprang down, and thundered at the door. My horse came and

pushed me away with his nose, turned about, and had begun to batter the

door with his heels, when up came little Odu on the leopardess, and at

sight of her he stood still, trembling. But she too had heard the cry,

and forgetting the child on her back, threw herself at the door; the

boy was dashed against it, and fell senseless. Before I could reach him,

Lona had him in her arms, and as soon as he came to himself, set him on

the back of his bear, which had still followed him.

When the leopardess threw herself the third time against the door, it

gave way, and she darted in. We followed, but she had already vanished.

We sprang up a stair, and went all over the house, to find no one.

Darting down again, we spied a door under the stair, and got into a

labyrinth of excavations. We had not gone far, however, when we met the

leopardess with the child we sought across her back.

He told us that the woman he took for his mother threw him into a hole,

saying she would give him to the leopardess. But the leopardess was a

good one, and took him out.

Following in search of the other boy, we got into the next house more

easily, but to find, alas, that we were too late: one of the savages

had just killed the little captive! It consoled Lona, however, to learn

which he was, for she had been expecting him to grow a bad giant, from

which worst of fates death had saved him. The leopardess sprang upon

his murderer, took him by the throat, dragged him into the street, and

followed Lona with him, like a cat with a great rat in her jaws.

“Let us leave the horrible place,” said Lona; “there are no mothers

here! This people is not worth delivering.”

The leopardess dropped her burden, and charged into the crowd, this

way and that, wherever it was thickest. The slaves cried out and ran,

tumbling over each other in heaps.

When we got back to the army, we found it as we had left it, standing in

order and ready.

But I was far from easy: the princess gave no sign, and what she might

be plotting we did not know! Watch and ward must be kept the night

through!

The Little Ones were such hardy creatures that they could repose

anywhere: we told them to lie down with their animals where they were,

and sleep till they were called. In one moment they were down, and

in another lapt in the music of their sleep, a sound as of water over

grass, or a soft wind among leaves. Their animals slept more lightly,

ever on the edge of waking. The bigger boys and girls walked softly

hither and thither among the dreaming multitude. All was still; the

whole wicked place appeared at rest.