That meant, he felt sure, that the buzzing fly had gone out with it — but inside it, — gobbled up with a lightning thrust of the pointed little mouth.
The broken bit of tail, therefore, might be now lying on the window-sill. He crawled off his bed to look. Yes, there it lay. He picked it up and put it carefully away in an empty box of tooth-powder. Then he put the box away in a drawer where he kept his treasures. Then he crept back on tiptoe to bed. Then, in due course, he fell asleep.
Sambo woke up next morning expecting to see Snitch looking at him from the window-sill. Not a bit of it. There was no sign of the dear little lizard. It was probably having its breakfast somewhere, he decided. What did it eat for breakfast? He didn’t know. Not porridge and eggs and marmalade anyhow. It drank water and ate a fly most likely. Sambo kept his eyes and ears wide open all that morning, but Snitch did not appear. In his pocket was the little box with the tip of its tail. He often took it out and looked at it when nobody was about. Sometimes he rattled it, thinking it might hear and answer. But nothing happened. The whole day passed without a sign of it.
But Snitch had promised to come back. Sambo knew it would keep its promise. ‘ It’s gone hunting perhaps,’ he decided. But female lizards didn’t hunt. ‘ Or having some babies,’ he changed his explanation. Anyhow it was busy. Meanwhile, he kept his secret to himself. He told no one, not even Topsy. ‘ Females divulge,’ he once heard a man saying to his father. He didn’t know quite what it meant, but it had something to do with telling. Topsy, being a female, might divulge. It meant telling secrets anyhow.
The next day it rained, and lizards stayed at home when it rained, Nannie told him. She also answered lots of other questions he asked, though she had to look at a big book first. Lizards, she read out, were reptiles; they belonged to the great family of crocodiles, snakes and that sort of creature, and snakes were simply lizards that had lost their legs. A slow-worm, which they sometimes found on the road, was a legless lizard. They laid eggs, lived on insects, and slept through the winter in some little hole or crack, because in the winter there were no insects for them to eat. There were only two kinds of lizards in England, one called the Sand Lizard, because it lived in sandpits; the other called — but Nannie couldn’t pronounce the name, so she stopped reading out a minute from the big book. ‘It’s about seven inches long,’ she went on presently...
‘ — That’s mine! ‘ he exclaimed excitedly.
Sambo seized his opportunity at once. ‘ Thank you very much, Nannie,’ he added. ‘ I’ve heard enough.’ And he was out of the room like a flash, for the rain had stopped, the sun was blazing, and he had a feeling that Snitch might be about.
CHAPTER IV
SAMBO stood in the hot paved sunken garden, where the flowers smelt sweet after the rain, and there were lots of cracks between the stones. He stared about him.
‘Snitch! ‘ he called softly. ‘Snitch, dear, where are you? I’m all alone. Which way have you gone?’
No answer came, but the words ran on in his mind into a little rhyme. He began to sing this little rhyme to himself in a low voice:
‘Dear little Snitch,
I’m all alone!
I wonder which
Way you have gone?’
He sang it over again, and only stopped because a fly kept settling on his neck and tickling him. Once he thought he heard a tiny laugh. But nothing stirred: he saw no movement on the stones. Besides, Snitch had promised to give a sign. He would hear it say ‘ Snitch! ‘ when it was there. Was it angry with him because he had asked so many questions? He had been rather rude, he remembered, and it was certainly a little annoyed. But he had a thousand more questions to ask now.
Bother! There was that fly tickling him again! He smacked his hand down on the back of his neck, but instead of catching the fly, he only hurt himself. Now, if Snitch had been there it would have caught that fly in a second, thought Sambo. Snitch was quicker than lightning. The fly tickled him again, and he smacked his hand down again.
‘Snitch! ‘ he heard suddenly. ‘It isn’t a fly at all! It’s me!’
Sambo turned round so sharply that he nearly fell down. He was so excited he could hardly believe his ears.
‘Where are you?’ he cried. ‘ Quick! Tell me!’ For at the same instant he heard Nannie’s voice coming round the corner of the house. And Topsy was with her. ‘Oh, let me see you! Where are you? Please, please!’
‘Here! ‘ was the reply in a tiny squeak. ‘ On your shoulder, of course. I’ve been tickling your neck with my nose for a long time.’
‘You were the fly!’ gasped Sambo. ‘ I might have hit you!’
He twisted his head and neck, and there, sure enough, was his little friend perched on his shoulder, his pointed face peeping up with tiny sparkling eyes.
‘I was the lizard,’ it snapped. ‘Please be accurate. And another thing — you couldn’t hit me if you tried all day. Even the hawk only nipped my tail. You’re not a quarter as fast as a hawk.’ It giggled close beside his ear.
‘Oh, you are a little beauty! ‘ exclaimed Sambo. ‘ I knew you’d turn up. You promised, didn’t you?’
Nannie and Topsy came into view as he spoke, round the corner of the house.
‘Oh, be quick, be quick! Hide, or they’ll see you!’
Snitch giggled, as he gave the boy a tiny nip with his little mouth in the neck, but so gently, it was almost like a kiss.
‘I am a beauty,’ it squeaked. ‘ I did promise. I have turned up. And I am quick — so quick that you’ll never hit me, and they’ll never see me!’ And the same instant, quick as a lightning flash, it darted down his shoulder, scuttled along his back, ran with the speed of flight along his arm, and settled finally into the hollow of his hot hand, where Sambo felt at once the queer little tickle of its tiny paws.
‘Close your paw,’ Sambo heard, ‘ and remember — no one but you can hear my voice. The others can’t. You hear me because you love me.’
Sambo closed his hand immediately, but only just in time, for Nannie at that moment reached him, stared at him, put on an expression as though he was doing something he had no right to do, and said in a rather cross voice:
‘What’s that you’ve got in your hand, Sambo? You’ve been picking up something dirty as usual I suppose, and you’ll make your clothes in a mess. Open your hand. What is it you’ve got there?’
Topsy, who was beside her, leaned forward to see what it was. She wished she had picked it up, whatever it was. Sambo always had all the fun and excitement.
Sambo, always obedient, held out his hand. But at first he didn’t open it. If Nannie saw the lizard, she would make him throw it away. She would probably scream as well. He would never be allowed to touch a lizard again. So, obedient but very cautious, he just held out his hand and did not answer. He felt hot and cold all over. He was fairly caught now. He shut his lips tight.
Then, suddenly, and before Nannie had time to say anything more, he heard a faint squeaky voice that sounded far away and muffled:
‘Turn your hand downwards with the palm to the ground. Then, when I sneeze — open it!’
Sambo obeyed, ‘ Sambo,’ said Nannie, certain now that he had picked up something horrible, and speaking more sternly, ‘ Sambo, I told you to open your hand. Open it at once and let me see what you’ve got there. Some nastiness, I’ll be bound.’
‘Snitch! ‘ came the signal agreed upon, but so faintly that no one heard it except the boy.
His closed hand was held downwards> with its back uppermost. He opened his thumb and four fingers and held them spread out for Nannie to see. ‘ Turn your hand over,’ Nannie told him. ‘ Show me your palm.’
Sambo did so. His heart sank. But before his hand was round he felt a tiny sensation in his palm, then on his wrist, then along his arm, as far as the elbow, and next over the skin of his back and shoulder till it reached his neck, where it stopped. It took only a second or two to turn his hand over as Nannie told him to do, but when his palm lay open
before her eyes — there was nothing in it.
Quicker than a flash of light, the wonderful little lizard had darted up his sleeve and inside his shirt. It had escaped. The open palm Nannie examined was quite empty.
‘There’s nothing there,’ said Sambo in a faint voice, looking very innocent. Nannie looked rather foolish, and Topsy gurgled disappointedly like an echo of her brother: ‘ But there’s nothing there! Oh, Nannie, what a sell! ‘ They moved off slowly towards the mulberry tree, where Nannie then sat down in a wicker chair, while Topsy went to hunt up the tortoise, Percy. The hot sun had dried the grass. The whole garden steamed. Red Admirals and Peacocks came fluttering over the pinks and roses...
But Sambo, bursting with admiration of his wonderful little friend, stood stock still and waited. Snitch had saved him marvellously. He stood and waited, breathing hard, his hands hanging down beside him. Then, suddenly, his palm tickled. He lifted his hand. Snitch lay there cosily between the thumb and little finger. It was laughing.
‘You see, I can always save you,’ it squeaked,’ if you do what I tell you.” Thanks awfully,’ the boy stammered. ‘ I always will. But — how on earth could you go at such a rate?’
The lizard ran up his arm, across his shoulder and coat, and settled on his blue sailor tie: ‘ That’s not the only question you want to ask,’ it said, peeping up into his face over his chin. ‘ You’ve got a hundred others, I know, because I heard Nannie reading out from the book about my family. I was in the chimney all the time. I like the chimney when it’s raining. Well now, get along with it. Hurry up and ask your questions.’
‘You were in the chimney! ‘ gasped Sambo, too surprised at first to ask the hundreds of questions that seethed inside his brain.
‘I’ve been watching you,’ went on the lizard, ‘ ever since we first met. I wanted to be sure you were worth knowing. I’ve never been far away. I heard you singing. I’ve watched you awake and asleep. I had to make sure, you see, that you were worth it — worth being my friend, I mean.’
Sambo felt very uncomfortable. He was usually naughty, he knew.
‘ — And — am I? ‘ he asked faintly.
By way of answer, Snitch darted up over his chin, reached his lips, and gave him a tiny kiss. The next second it was back again on his blue tie, as though it had never moved. ‘ Let’s sit down now and talk,’ it squeaked, as though nothing had happened. ‘ Then Nannie won’t think you’re up to mischief — eh?’
CHAPTER V
SAMBO was too pleased and surprised to argue; he was too excited as well; he ran over to the wooden bench in front of the morning-room window and sat down. On the iron table, where his father and mother had drunk their coffee after lunch, lay the newspapers. Snitch shot down upon the page giving the theatrical news. Having settled itself, it glanced up at him sideways: ‘ Now,’ it piped, ‘ go ahead. I’m ready.’
But Sambo, wanting to ask a hundred things, found himself suddenly dumb. He remembered all that Nannie had read out, and he wanted to ask what time lizards got up in the morning, what they ate and drank, how they lived together and what their houses were like, what sort of eggs they laid, how they managed all the winter without food, how they made their tails grow again — oh, and a thousand other things as well. But the only thing he could think of at this moment was the funny bit Nannie had read out about lizards losing their legs and turning eventually into snakes. Snakes, she had read out, were simply lizards that had decided they could get on better in life without legs, and so had given up using them till they finally disappeared. This was the only thing in his mind at the moment, but somehow he didn’t quite like to ask it. He hesitated.
‘It’s quite right to think before you speak,’ snapped Snitch, ‘ but time is passing, you know. Nannie’ll be yelling for you in a minute. Hurry up! ‘ Sambo took a deep breath and clenched his hands. ‘ I only wanted to ask,’ he said in a low voice, ‘ whether you — that is if you expect — to lose your legs — some day?’
There! He had said it! He wondered what would happen. Would Snitch be offended, perhaps hurt as well? Would it snap at him...?
Instead it burst out laughing. Oh, how it laughed! Its laughter rang out like the tinkling of silver bells. Its music floated across the sunlit garden like tiny falling drops of water, so that the swallows hovered a moment to listen, and even the Red Admirals and Peacocks looked up a moment where they were drinking honey from the clematis and seemed to wink at one another.
‘Bless the boy! ‘ cried the lizard in its highest squeak, ‘ what a question! ‘ Its sides were panting with its merriment. It was not a bit offended. ‘ Yes, yes,’ it went on jerkily, wriggling from side to side on the newspaper paragraph about Shakespeare and Bernard Shaw. ‘ Yes, yes, of course I shall — in time. Only, not to-day or to-morrow. It takes thousands of years to make a change like that. The slow-worm you saw last week in the road — the poor little thing that frightened you because you thought it was a snake and would poison you — that old harmless slow-worm, a hundred thousand years ago, was a lizard, just as I am now. Then it found it could manage better without legs, and so gradually its legs, from want of use, disappeared, you see. Only it took a hundred thousand years for that to happen. I shan’t lose my legs to-day or to-morrow!’
It laughed so that Sambo thought it was going to burst. He began to laugh with it, though he hardly knew exactly why he laughed.
‘Why, a million years ago,’ piped the lizard between its bursts of laughter, ‘ you men — you human beings — all had tails! You lived in trees. Yes, you did really. Then, gradually, you began to live on the ground more. So you didn’t need your tails to hang from the branches by. You learned to walk upright. And your tails, slowly, after thousands of years, disappeared!’ The lizard stopped. It had laughed so hard that tears had run from its eyes, tiny little drops of silver that smudged the print of the theatrical paragraph about Bernard Shaw and Shakespeare. It raised a paw and quickly dried each eye. Then it glanced up and said: ‘So there! Now you know something you didn’t know before, eh?’
But Sambo was not a silly little boy. He liked being told things he didn’t know. It all puzzled him a bit, but still he felt it was probably quite true. His father had told him that animals and plants were always changing, only he didn’t know they took so long to change. But the idea that men had once lived in trees appealed to him. He wished he still had a tail.
‘So that’s why I like climbing trees, Snitch, is it? ‘ he asked.
‘You still just remember the old days, yes,’ came the answer,’ when you lived like monkeys. You wear clothes now instead of hair, and you cook your dinner instead of eating it raw, and you live in an expensive house with ten rooms instead of in a cosy little hole or crack with one room — but—’ it began to laugh again like a shower of silver bells—’ but your human world isn’t so very far apart from ours, you know, after all,’ it went on,’ and you needn’t feel so superior about it—’
Sambo could think of nothing to say. He felt bursting with ideas. His mind seemed splitting. Then, not quite knowing why, he suddenly asked: ‘ Snitch, dear, why do you tell me all this?’
In a flash the lizard left the newspaper and seemed to disappear. The same second almost it was across his shoulder and perched beside his ear. It was half inside his ear. He felt its breath tickling his skin. ‘ I’ll tell you,’ it whispered,’ because I like you and trust you, and because I know you like me.’
‘I do, indeed, dear Snitch,’ the boy said quickly. ‘ I really love you.’
‘Exactly,’ replied the lizard in its tickly whisper. ‘ Well, the truth is that I’ve always wanted to know more about the world you humans live in, only I never found anybody I could trust enough to ask. You’re the first that hasn’t thrown stones at me, or tried to hit me with a stick, or wanted to put me in a cage. So, if you’ll let me, I’ll come with you sometimes into your funny human world, and see how you all behave, and what you do. And I’ll tell you about my world in return. Is that a bargain
?’
‘Yes, rather,’ began Sambo — but before he could say any more, he felt that tickling sensation down his neck, then along his bare leg, then — well, he just heard a tiny squeak somewhere on the ground, but when he looked down there was nothing to be seen. Snitch had vanished like lightning. He was alone. And Nannie was calling to him across the lawn.
The lizard came a great deal into the house during that summer. It was full of tricks. Sambo never knew what it would do next. One day it would wake him up early by biting his toe in bed, another it would pop its muzzle over the edge of the blackboard and say ‘Hallo, Mister! ‘ while the children were making their letters with the chalk. Once it lay along a black note on the piano when Sambo’s mother was teaching him his notes, and there was a wet afternoon in the Nursery when he heard it saying ‘ Here I am, Mister! ‘ dozens of times before he discovered it finally on the top of the brown clock, looking exactly like an ornament — a metal lizard. It had been there for half an hour without moving.
No one ever saw it but Sambo.
‘That’s the way to hide,’ it explained. ‘ Keep quite still and no one notices you. Choose a background of the same colour as your clothes and you’re very hard to see — almost invisible.’
‘But I’m rather big for that,’ the boy objected.
‘All human beings are too big,’ grumbled the lizard. ‘ If you were the same size as us you’d be much happier. There’s no sense in being so big. If you were small like me you’d need less food, you could live in smaller houses, use much less stuff to clothe you, and life would be much easier altogether—’
Instead of finishing its remarks, it suddenly shot up the curtain by the window and hung motionless. It was some minutes before even Sambo could pick it out, for the curtain was brown and the lizard’s body did not show against it.
Collected Works of Algernon Blackwood Page 291