CHAPTER IV
FACT--EDGED WITH FANCY
But the children were not always so vindictive and blood-thirsty. Allthree could be very tender sometimes. Even Maria was not whollyimplacable and merciless, she had a pretty side as well. Theirneighbour at the Manor House, Colonel William Stumper, C.B.,experienced this gentler quality in the trio. He was Mother's cousin,too.
They were inclined to like this Colonel Stumper, C.B. For one thing helimped, and that meant, they decided, that he had a wooden leg. Theynever called it such, of course, but indicated obliquely that theinjured limb was made of oak or walnut, by referring to the other as"his living leg," "his good leg," and so forth. For another thing, hedid not smile at them; and for a third, he did not ask foolishquestions in an up-and-down voice (assumed for the moment), as thoughthey were invalids, idiots, or tailless puppies who could not answer.He frowned at them. He said furiously, "How are you, creatures?"And--he gave usually at least a shilling to each.
"That makes three shillings altogether," as Tim cleverly explained.
"But not three shillings for each of us," Maria qualified the praise."_I_ only got one." She took it out of her mouth and showed it by wayof proof.
"You'll swallow it," warned Judy, "and then you won't have none at all."
If received early in the week, they reported their good fortune to theAuthorities; but if Sunday was too near, they waited. Daddy had a queeridea of teasing sometimes. "Just in time for to-morrow's collection,"he would be apt to say; and though he did not really mean it perhaps,there was a hint of threat in the suggestion that quenched high spiritsat the moment.
"You see, he takes the plate round," Judy told them, "and so feelsashamed." She did not explain the feeling ashamed. It was just that herfather, who always did things thoroughly, had to say something, and sopicked on that. "Monday or Tuesday's safest," was her judgment.
Maria rolled her eyes round like a gigantic German doll.
"Never's best," she gave as her opinion.
But that was sly. The others reproved her quickly.
"Daddy likes to know," they told her. "Monday or Tuesday's all right."They agreed just to mention the matter only. There was no need to "saya lot."
So they liked this Colonel Stumper, C.B. They liked his "title,"declaring that the letters stood for "Come Back," and referring totheir owner as "Come Back Stumper." Some day, when he was gone forgood, he was to be promoted to K.C.B., meaning "Kan't-Come-Back." Butthey preferred him as he was, plain C.B., because they did not want tolose him. They declared that "Companion to the Bath" was just nonsenseinvented by a Radical Government. For in politics, of course, theyfollowed their father's lead, and their father had _distinctly_ statedmore than once that "the policy of a Radical Government wassome-funny-word-or-other nonsense," which statement helped themenormously in forming their own opinions on several other topics aswell. In personal disagreements, for instance--they never"squabbled"--the final insult was to say, "My dear, you're as silly asa something-or-other Radical Govunment," for there was no answer tothis anywhere in the world.
Come-Back Stumper, therefore, though casual outsiders might never haveguessed it, was a valuable ally. He was what Mother called "acharacter" as well, and if the children used this statement in praiseof him, while adopting in their carelessness a revised version, "he hasno character," this was not Come-Back Stumper's fault. He was also an"extinguished soldger," and had seen much service in foreign parts.India with its tigers, elephants, and jungles, was in his heatedatmosphere deliciously, and his yellow tint, as of an unripe orange,was due to something they had learned from hearsay to describe as"curried liver trouble." All this, and especially his dead or woodenleg, was distinctly in his favour. Come-Back Stumper was real. Also, hewas hard and angular in appearance, short, brisk in manner,square-shouldered, and talked like a General who was bothered aboutsomething in a battle. His opinions were most decided. His conversationconsisted of negatives, refusals and blank denials. If Come-BackStumper agreed with what was said, it meant that he was feeling unwellwith an attack of curried-liver-trouble. The children understood him.He understood the children, too.
"It's a jolly morning, William," from Daddy would be met with "Might beworse" and a snort like the sneeze of the nursery cat, but a directinvitation of any sort was simply declined point blank. "Care to seeThe Times, William?" ensured the answer, "Oh, _no_, thanks; there'snever anything worth reading in it." This was as regular as breakfastwhen Cousin William was staying in the house. It was, in fact, Daddy'sformula when he settled into his armchair for a quiet half-hour's read.Daddy's question was the mere politeness of a host. It was sham, butCousin William's answer was as real as breakfast. The formula was amechanical certainty, as certain as that pressing a button in the wallproduced Thompson in the room.
Accordingly, when Mother said, "Now, don't bother your Cousin William,children; he doesn't want you," this individual would instantlyshoulder arms and state the exact contrary with fiery emphasis.
"If you've no objection," came the testy answer, "and if it's all thesame to you, Cecilia"--a shade sarcastically, this--"it's preciselywhat I _do_ want."
And he would look at the children in a way that suggested the mostintimate of secret understanding between himself and them. More, hewould rise and leave the room with the impetus of a soldier going outto fight, and would play with Judy, Tim, and Maria in a fashion thatupset the household routine and made the trio unmanageable for theAuthorities for hours afterwards.
"He's an honourable gentleman like the gentlemen in Parliament,"declared Judy, "and that's my opinion of why I think him nice."
"And when I'm grown-up," was Tim's verdict, "I'll be a soldger justexactly the same, only not yellow, and taller, and not so thick in themiddle, and much, much richer, and with C.B. in front of my name aswell as at the end."
Maria, not being present at the time, said nothing audible. But sheliked him, too, unquestionably. Otherwise she would have announced thefact without delay. "He _is_ a lump rather," she had been heard toremark, referring to his actual bulk and slowness of movement when inplay. But it was nicely, very nicely meant.
"I am sure your Cousin William would rather be left alone to readquietly," said Mother, seeing the trio approach that individualstealthily after tea in the library one evening. He was deep in a bigarmchair, and deep in a book as well. The children were alloweddownstairs after their schoolroom tea for an hour when nothingparticular was on. "Wouldn't you, William?" she added. She went onknitting a sort of muffler thing she held up close to the lamp. Sheexpected no reply, apparently.
Cousin William made none. But he raised the level of his book so thatit hid his face. A moment before, the eyes had been looking over thetop at the advancing trio, watching their movements narrowly.
The children did not answer either. They separated. They scouted. Theyexecuted a flank attack in open order. Three minutes later ColonelStumper was surrounded. And no word was spoken; the scouts just perchedand watched him. He was not actually reading, for he had not turned apage for about ten minutes, and it was _not_ a picture book. Thedifficulty was, however, to get him started. If only Mother would helpthem! Then Mother, unwittingly, did so. For she dropped her ball ofwool, and finding no one at hand to recover it, she looked vaguelyround the room--and saw them. And she shook her head at them.
"Don't bother him just now," she whispered again, "he's got a cold.Here, Maria, pick up my wool, darling, will you?" But while Tim (forMaria only moved her eyes) picked up the wool obediently, CousinWilliam picked up himself with difficulty, tossed his book into thedeep arm-chair, and stalked without a single word towards the door.Mother watched him with one eye, but the children did not stir a muscle.
"William, you're not going to bed, are you?" she asked kindly, "orwould you like to, perhaps? And have your dinner in your room, and awarm drink just before going to sleep? That's the best thing for acold, I always think."
He turned at the door and faced her. "Thank you very much," he saidwith
savage emphasis, "but I am _not_ ill, and I am _not_ going tobed." The negatives sounded like pistol shots. "My cold is nothing tospeak of." And he was gone, leaving a trail of fire in the air.
The children, cunning in their generation, did not move. There weremoments in life, and this was one of them, when "stir a finger andyou're a dead man" was really true. No finger stirred, no muscletwitched; one pair of eyelids fluttered, nothing more. And Mother,happy with her recovered ball of wool, was presently lost in themuffler thing she knitted, forgetful of their presence, if not of theirvery existence. Signals meanwhile were made and answered by means ofsome secret code that birds and animals understand. The plan wasmatured in silence.
"Good-night, Mother," said Judy innocently, a few moments later,stepping up and kissing her.
"Good-night," said Tim gravely, doing likewise.
Maria kissed, but said no word at all. They did not linger, as theircustom was, to cuddle in or hear a fairy story. To-night they were goodand businesslike.
"Good-night, duckies," said Mother, glancing at the clock on themantelpiece. "It's not _quite_ bed-time yet, but it's been a long day,and you're tired out. I shall be up presently to hear your prayers andtuck you up. And, Judy, you might tell Jackman--"
But the room was empty, the children vanished. The door banged softly,cutting off the sentence in its middle, and Mother resumed herknitting, smiling quietly to herself. And in the hall outside Come-BackStumper was discovered, warming his Army back before the open fire ofblazing logs. He looked like a cart-horse, the shadows made him spreadso. Maria pushed him to one side. She pushed, at least, but he did notmove exactly. Yet somehow, by a kind of sidling process, he took up anew position in regard to the fire and themselves, the result of whichwas that they occupied the best places, while he stood at one corner inan attitude which resisted attack and yet invited it.
"Good-evening," remarked Maria; "are you warm?"
"Oh, no," exclaimed Tim, "that's not it at all. The thing is, shall weplay hide-and-seek, or would you really rather go to bed, as Mothersaid, and have dinner and hot drinks?"
"Nonsense," cried Judy with authority. "He's got an awful cold, andhe's got to go to bed at once. He's shivering all over. It's Nindianfever."
"No, really, really--" began Stumper, but was not allowed to finish.
"Thin captain biscuits soaked in hot milk with ginger, nutmeg, lemon,and whisky," announced Judy, "would be best." And she shot towards thedoor, her hair untied and flying.
"But, my dear, I assure you--"
"Or Bath Olivers," she interrupted, "because they soak better. _You_know nothing," she added motheringly; "no man ever does." There wascontempt in her voice as well as pity.
"_Why_ do you know nothing?" inquired Maria, with a blaze of staringeyes, as the door slammed upon her vanishing sister.
"_I_ think you know everything," said Tim with pride, decidedly, "onlyyou've forgotten it in India. I think it's silly."
"The milk and stuff?" agreed the soldier. "Yes, so do I. And I hatebiscuits, and ginger makes me hot and ill--"
"Iller than you are already?" asked Maria, "because that means bed."
"Maria," he snapped angrily, "I'm not ill at all. If you go on sayingI'm ill, of course I shall get ill. I never felt better in my life."
Tim turned round like a top. "Then let's play hide-and-seek," he cried."Let's hide before Judy gets back, and she can come and never find us!"
Cousin William suggested they were not enough to play that game, andwas of opinion that Aunt Emily might be invited too.
"Oh, no," Tim gave his decided verdict, "not women. They can't hideproperly. They bulge."
And at that moment Judy appeared in the doorway across the hall.
"It's coming," she cried. "I've ordered everything--hot milk and BathOlivers and preserved ginger and--"
Cousin William took the matter into his own hands then, for thesituation was growing desperate. "Look here," he suggested gravely, yetwithout enthusiasm, "I'll take the milk and stuff upstairs when I'vegot into bed, and meanwhile we'll do something else. I'm--that is, mycold is too bad to play a game, but I'll tell you a storyabout--er--about a tiger--if you like?" The last three words were addedas a question. An answer, however, was not immediately forthcoming. Forthe moment was a grave one. It was admitted that Come-Back Stumpercould play a game with credit and success, even an active game likehide-and-seek; but it was not known yet that he could tell a story. Thefate of the evening, therefore, hung upon the decision.
"A tiger!" said Tim, doubtfully, weighing probabilities. "A tiger youshot, was it, or just--a tiger?" A sign, half shadow and half pout, wasin his face. Maria and Judy waited upon their brother's decision withabsolute confidence, meanwhile.
Colonel Stumper moved artfully backwards towards a big horsehair sofa,beneath the deer heads and assegais from Zululand. He did it on tiptoe,aware that this mysterious and suggestive way of walking has a markedeffect on children in the dark. "I did not shoot it," he said, "becauseI lived with it. It was the most extraordinary tiger that was everknown--"
"In India?"
"In the world. And I ought to know, because, as I say, I lived with itfor days--"
"Inside it?"
"Nearly, but not quite. I lived in its cave with the cubs and otherthings, half-eaten deer and cows and the bones of Hindus--"
"Were the bones black? However did you escape? Why didn't the tiger eatyou?"
He drew the children closely round him on the sofa. "I'll tell you," hesaid, "for this is an inaugural occasion, and I've never told the storybefore to any one in the world. The experience was incredible, and noone would believe it. But the proof that it really happened is that thetiger has left its mark upon me till I die--"
"But you haven't died--yet, I mean," Maria observed.
"He means teeth, silly," Tim squelched her.
"Died in another sense than the one you mean," the great soldier andformer administrator of a province continued, "dyed yellow--"
"Oh-h-h! Is that why--?"
"That is why," he replied pathetically. "For living with that tigerfamily so long, I almost turned into one myself. The tiger nature gotinto me. I snarl and growl, I use my teeth ferociously when hungry, Iwalk stealthily on tiptoe, I let my whiskers grow, and my colour hasthe tint of Indian tigers' skins."
"Have you got a tail, too?"
He glared into the blue eyes of Maria, sternly. "It's growing," hewhispered horribly, "it's growing."
There was a pause in which credulity shook hands with faith. Belief wasin the air. If doubt did whisper, "Let me see, please," it was too lowto be quite audible. Come-Back Stumper was surrounded by an atmosphereof black-edged glory suddenly; he wore a halo; his feet were dipped inmystery.
"Then what's an orgully occasion?" somebody asked.
"This!" replied Stumper. But he uttered it so savagely that no onecared to press for further details. Clearly it was a secret andconfidential moment, and "inaugural occasion" had something to do withthe glory of wearing an incipient tail. Glory and mystery clothedStumper from that moment with Indian splendour. At least, _he_ thoughtso....
"And the tiger?" came the whispering question.
"Ugh-h-h-h!" he shuddered; "I'll tell you. But I must think a momentquietly first."
"His tail hurts," Maria told Tim beneath her breath, while they waitedfor the story to begin.
"So would yours," was the answer, "if you had a cold at the same time,too. A girl would simply cry." And he looked contempt at her, butunutterable respect at his soldier friend.
"This tiger," began the traveller, in a heavy voice, "was a--a veryunusual tiger. I met it, that is to say, most unexpectedly. It was in atropical jungle, where the foliage was so thick that the sunlighthardly penetrated at all. It was dark as night even in the daytime.There were monkeys overhead and snakes beneath, and bananas were soplentiful that every time my elephant knocked against a tree a showerof fruit fell down like hail and tickled its skin."
"You were on an el
ephant, then?"
"We were all on elephants. On my particular elephant there was a man toload for me and a man to guide the beast. We moved slowly andcautiously. It was dark, as I said, but the showers of falling bananasmade yellow streaks against the black that the elephant constantlymistook for tigers flying through the air as they leaped in silent furyagainst the howdah in which we crouched upon his back. The howdah, youknow, is the saddle."
"Was the elephant friendly?"
"_Very_ friendly indeed; but he found it difficult to see, and all of asudden he would give a hop and a jump that nearly flung me off hisshoulders. For a long time--"
"That was the bananas tickling him, I suppose?"
"This continued without anything dangerous happening, but all at oncehe gave a tremendous leap into the air, lifted his trunk, trumpetedlike an Army bugle, and then set off at full speed through the tangledjungle. He had stupidly stepped upon a cobra! And the cobra, before itwas squashed to pulp, had stung him between the big and little toe."
"On purpose?" Judy asked.
"In an Indian jungle everything's done on purpose. My elephant racedaway, trumpeting in agony, at twenty miles an hour. The driver lost hisbalance and fell off; the other man, scrambling along to take his placeand steer the monster, fell off after him, taking both my guns with himas he went; and I myself, crouching in the swaying howdah, and holdingon for grim death, continued to tear through the jungle on top of myterrified and angry elephant. Then, suddenly, the branch of a treecaught the howdah in the middle and swept it clear. The elephant rushedon. The howdah, with myself inside it, swung in mid-air like a caughtballoon. But I saw it could not hold on long. There was just time toscramble out of it into safety upon the branch when there came a soundof ripping, and the thing fell smash upon the ground some twenty feetbelow, leaving me alone in an Indian jungle--up a tree."
And he paused a moment to produce the right effect and reap theinevitable glory of applause.
Out of the breathless silence sprang a voice at once: "Was the elephantbadly hurt?" And then another: "I thought elephants were too big tofeel a bite like that." Followed by a third--Maria's: "It wasn't fairto step on it and expect it to do nothing."
But no single word about his own predicament--its horror, danger,loneliness, and risk. No single syllable. Even the Hindus, the driver,and the man who carried the guns, were left unmentioned. Bananas wereequally ignored. The tiger itself had passed into oblivion.
"Thanks most awfully," said Tim, politely, after an interval. "It musthave been awful for you." It was said as spokesman for the otherlisteners. All were kind and grateful, but actual interest there wasnone. They took the pause to mean that the story was at an end; butthey had not cared about it because they--did not believe it.
"Simply awful," the boy added, as though, perhaps, he had not made itquite clear that he wished to thank yet could not honestly praise."Wasn't it, Judy?" And he jerked his head round towards his eldersister.
"Oh, _awful_--yes," agreed that lady.
But neither of them risked inviting the opinion of Maria. Heruncompromising nature was too well known for that. Nevertheless,unasked, she offered her criticism too: "Awful," she said, her podgyface unmoved, her blue eyes fixed upon the ceiling. And the whole roomseemed to give a long, deep sigh.
Now, for the hero, this was decidedly an awkward moment; he had donehis best and miserably failed. He was no story-teller, and they hadfound him out. None the less, however, he was a real hero. He faced thesituation as a brave man should:
For his tale was mediocre, And his face of yellow ochre Took a tinge of saffron sorrow in his fright; Yet he rose to the occasion, Without anger or evasion, And did his best to put the matter right.
"Tell me how you knew," he asked at length, facing the situation. "Whatmade you guess?"
"Because, in the first place, you're not an atom _like_ a tiger,anyhow," explained Judy.
"And you made the jungle so very dark," said Tim, "that you simplycouldn't have seen the bananas falling."
"And we _know_ you haven't got a tail at all," Maria added, clinchingly.
"Of course," he agreed; "your discernment does you credit, very greatcredit indeed. Few of the officials under me in India had as much."
Judy looked soothingly at him and stroked his sleeve. Somehow or othershe divined, it seemed, he felt mortified and ashamed. He was a dearold thing, whatever happened.
"Never mind," she whispered, "it really doesn't matter. It was verynice to hear about your tiger. Besides--it must hurt awfully, having acold like this."
"I knew," put in Tim sympathetically, "the moment you began about thebananas falling. But I didn't say anything, because I knew it couldn'tlast--anything that began like that."
"But it got wonderful towards the end," insisted Judy.
"Till he was in the tree," objected her brother. "He never could reallyhave got along a branch like that."
"No," agreed Judy, thoughtfully, "that _was_ rather silly."
They continued discussing the story for some time as though its creatorwas elsewhere. He kept very still. Maria already slept in a soft andpodgy ball on his lap....
"I am a lonely old thing," he said suddenly, with a long sigh, for inreality he was deeply disappointed at his failure, and had aspired tobe their story-teller as well as playmate. Ordinary life bored himdreadfully. He had melancholy yearnings after youth and laughter."Let's do something else now. What do you say to a turn ofhide-and-seek? Eh?"
The miraculous Maria woke at this, yawned like a cat, and nearly rolledoff on to the floor. "I dreamed of a real tiger," she informed everyone. But no one was listening. Judy and Tim were prancing wildly.
"If your cold isn't _too_ bad," cried Judy, "it would be lovely." Nogrown-up could have been more thoughtful of his welfare than she was.
"I'll hide," he said, "and in five minutes you come and find me." Hewent towards the door into the passage.
"Choose a warm place, and keep out of draughts," she cried after him.And he was gone. He nearly collided with a servant carrying a tray, butthe servant, hearing his secret instructions, vanished again instantlyin the direction of the kitchen. Five minutes later--an alleged fiveminutes--the children began their search. But they never found him.They hunted high and low, from attic to cellar, in gun-room, scullery,and pantry, even climbing up the ladder from the box-room to the roof,but without result. Colonel Stumper had disappeared. He was K.C.B.
"D'you think he's offended?" suggested Judy, as they met at length inthe hall to consider the situation.
"Of course not," said Tim emphatically, "a man like that! He's writtena book on Scouting!"
"I've finished," Maria mentioned briefly, and sat down.
On Judy's puzzled face there appeared an anxious expression then. Hiscold, she remembered, was very heavy. "I looked under every sofa andinto every cupboard," she said, as though she feared he might havechoked or suffocated. They stood in front of the fireplace and began totalk about other things. Their interest in the game was gone, they weretired of looking; but at the back of their minds was a secretannoyance, though at the same time a sense of great respect for the manwho could conceal himself so utterly from sight. A touch of themarvellous was in it somehow.
"There's no good hiding like _that_," they felt indignantly. Still itwas rather wonderful, after all. A man "like that" could do anything.He might even be up a chimney somewhere. He might be anywhere! Theyfelt a little creepy....
"P'raps he _is_ a sort of tiger thing," whispered some one ... and theywere rather relieved when the drawing-room door opened and Motherappeared, knitting her scarlet muffler as she walked. The scene ofscolding, explanation, and excuses that followed--for it was half anhour after bed-time--was cut short by Maria informing the company thatshe was "awfully tired," with a sigh that meant she would like to becarried up to bed. She was carried. The procession moved slowly, Timand Judy bringing up the rear. But while Tim talked about a water-rathe meant to kill next day with
an air-gun, Judy used her eyesassiduously, still hoping to discover Cousin William crumpled up insome incredible hiding-place. They told their mother nothing. Thematter was private. It was between themselves and him. It would have tobe cleared up on the morrow--if they remembered. On the upper landing,however, there was a curious sound. Maria, half asleep in the maternalarms, did not hear it, apparently, but the other two children exchangedsudden, recriminating glances. A door stood ajar, and light camethrough it from the room within. This curious sound came with it. Itwas a sneeze--a regular Nindian sneeze.
"We never thought of looking _there_," they said reproachfully.Come-Back Stumper had simply gone to bed.
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