The Defender

by Nicholas Kalashnikoff

  ‘The scamp!” Turgen exclaimed. “That one was born to get himself noticed.”

  Soon, Turgen reminded himself, he must exercise still greater vigilance for with autumn hunters would be abroad in the hills. While he doubted that his superstitious neighbors from the valley would come near his yurta, stranger things had happened and he dared not count on it. To every hunter the rams were an irresistible attraction.

  CHAPTER 14

  SEPTEMBER CAME, BRINGING ITS CUSTOMARY CHANGEABLE weather. One damp and windy day when all the furies seemed loose, Turgen went as usual to take food to his charges and stand watch.

  “Though why anyone should come out in this weather I don’t know,” he thought. “Even the rams will surely keep under shelter.”

  But no. He had time only to drop the hay and retreat to his watching post when there they were in full strength—the whole family. The rain annoyed them and they shook themselves from time to time. Otherwise they showed no discomfiture. While the leader and two other males circled the clearing on the alert for danger, the rest stood quietly in the lee of the cliff waiting for the rain to abate. Looking for the lambs, Turgen saw them lying snugly under their mothers’ bellies.

  At the. first sign of the weather’s clearing Turgen’s favorite jumped up and ran to urge the second lamb to romp with him. She refused, preferring her comfort. He then advanced on the older rams, trying by all the wiles he could command to get their attention. Turgen almost laughed aloud watching his antics.

  “What a show-off!” Then he worried. “It is cold and wet for one so young. He will get sick.— But that’s an absurd idea. He is not made of clay that he will melt.”

  Soon after this the rain stopped and Turgen started for home. He had gone only a few steps when a shot rang out. There were hunters somewhere in the hills nearby—too far away to menace the herd of rams but the sound of gunfire alone was enough to cause panic. While the echo was still curling around the mountains the rams crowded around the leader as he stood irresolute, his head raised, his nostrils distended to test the air. It was he who must say what they should do.

  In a minute the old ram turned and came at a light trot across a narrow stone abutment that formed a natural bridge between the clearing and the adjoining hill where Turgen stood. Without hesitation the other rams followed him in single file, males and females alternating. Turgen’s lamb was behind his mother and just in front of the male ram who brought up the rear. The bridge led to a labyrinth of caves where escape was easy. That it led past Turgen seemed a matter of no concern to the rams in the face of great danger.

  The bridge was no doubt slippery but the rams were sure-footed and they did not give way to panic. They were moving in a direction away from the gunfire. But Turgen had another plan. He would go toward the place from which the shot came. Should he meet the hunter, the hunter would understand that he was trespassing and leave the neighborhood—for such was the custom. Only one hunter was allowed to a region.

  But before Turgen could act on his resolve, there was another shot. The ram at the rear of the line, hearing it, jumped, made an incautious step, and knocked against the lamb, who fell from the bridge.

  CHAPTER 15

  TURGEN’S HEART TURNED IN HIM AS HE WATCHED THE small body hurtle down the crevasse. Then, peering over, he saw the lamb lying motionless on the mountain slope. Quickly, he made his way to the spot, fearing that wild animals would get there first.

  The lamb’s eyes, raised to his, were black with terror. It tried convulsively to rise but could not.

  “Thank God, he’s alive,” was Turgen’s first thought. ‘There’s a chance I can save him.”

  With that he stooped and lifted the lamb gently.

  “Ma-a,” said the lamb in a weak, childish whimper. And from a distance came a mournful answering bleat. “Ma-a! Ma-a!” that might have been the old leader. Then fog enveloped the mountain.

  The lamb was surprisingly heavy, but Turgen hardly noticed the burden in his anxiety and excitement. Carefully he made his way to the yurta through the darkness, and as he went he murmured reassurance to his patient, who made no further effort to escape.

  “It is not far to go. Be quiet. Rest. Do not fear—I’ll do you no harm.” Over and over Turgen said it, like a chant.

  At the yurta Turgen laid the lamb on some soft pelts to examine him. Noticing fresh blood stains, he looked for a wound and found a flesh cut under the right front leg. It took but a minute to wash it clean and cover it with a poultice of plantain leaves to stop the bleeding.

  The lamb’s fright returned now and he struggled to gain his feet. But his hind legs would not obey him.

  “There, there, lad,” Turgen soothed him with tender strokes and pats. “What are you afraid of ? I will soon make you well and take you back to your family. Who am I but an old man? There is no harm in me. Besides, who would dare to lift a hand against such a splendid fellow? Lie still. Trust me.”

  Pain, weariness, and the strange but unterrifying sound made by a human voice finally had their effect. The lamb rested while Turgen explored more thoroughly for possible injuries. There were scratches and bruises, none of them serious. And one hind leg was plainly swollen.

  “God forbid that it should be broken,” Turgen thought in dismay. For he was expert with animals and he knew the difficulty of keeping a wild young thing quiet while bone mended.

  Fortunately, he found that the injury was no more than a dislocation, but extremely painful to the touch. With practiced skill, while the patient bleated piteously, he swathed the whole body to keep it immobile except for the head. Then, quickly and deftly, he set the bone, bandaged the leg and hoof between splints and satisfied himself that the lamb could do no harm to the injury should he get on his feet. As he worked the lamb regarded him with fixed and startled eyes. It was breathing heavily and clearly would have liked to offer resistance.

  The bandaging operation finished, the lamb grew calm, fright gave way to weariness.

  “Why,” Turgen thought. “There is the same look in his eyes that I saw in Tim’s when I set his arm. Children are alike. They suffer more from fright than pain.” To the lamb he said: “That other little fellow drank some milk and fell asleep when I had doctored him. And so should you.”

  Fortunately, Turgen had only the day before brought milk from Marfa’s cow. It stood untouched in the cellar. He poured some into a large wooden bowl and offered it to the lamb. At first the lamb turned his head away in distaste, but when by accident a few drops found their way into his mouth he smacked his lips with enjoyment. After that he drank willingly, with relish, looking at Turgen as if to say: “Really, this isn’t bad at all.”

  Turgen was beside himself with joy as his charge finished his meal and promptly went to sleep.

  “Food and attention—that’s all anyone wants,” Turgen reflected. “Just food and attention.”

  It was late when he himself was ready for bed, and after the agitating events of the day he slept fitfully. Whenever he wakened, as he did frequently, his first thought was for the lamb—and this stranger in his yurta seemed not a wild ram but a person close and dear to him. By going to his rescue, Turgen had found someone to share his yurta.

  It is true, he marvelled, what our people say: “Misfortune can sometimes bring happiness.”

  CHAPTER 16

  MAN IS A CHANGEABLE CREATURE—DESPAIRING ONE moment, filled with joy and confidence the next. ‘The sun shines differently every day,” was the way Turgen’s father had put it, and he found wisdom in the words. How different yesterday was from today, he thought upon wakening, and all because of two dark eyes full of anxiety which greeted him across the room.

  Turgen rose, went to the lamb and stroked its head, under the soft brown-gray curls were hard knob-like growths which would one day become horns. Although the lamb shrank from his touch and tried to hide by closing its eyes, it did not struggle as before. Nor did fear prevent it from drinking a large bowl of milk for breakfast.

 
“Oho!” Turgen exclaimed with satisfaction. “Anyone with a hearty appetite like yours can not be suffering from internal injuries.”

  After the feeding, Turgen washed his patient’s wounds and covered them with a mixture of fish oil and tar. “The oil is healing, the smell of tar will keep flies and insects away.” This, too, Turgen had learned from his father. He thought of freeing the lamb of the bandages, but decided “No. He’s too young and frightened to be trusted. He would only injure himself more.” As he worked Turgen talked aloud, sometimes to himself and sometimes to the lamb but always keeping his voice quiet so that the young stranger would not take alarm.

  The chores that day were like child’s play, so busy was Turgen’s mind with plans. Returning from Marfa’s with a fresh supply of milk for Lad, as he called the lamb—he thought, “What good fortune has come to me. When Lad gets well I will take him back to the herd myself.” And he pictured the reunion of the rams, how Lad would tell his family of Turgen’s kindness. Who could say?—the news might even reach the ears of the Great Spirit. For Turgen could not forget his dream. He was convinced the lamb had come to him for a purpose, as a messenger from the old man on the mountain to test Turgen’s devotion. Should he receive care and attention, then Turgen at his death would be granted permission to enter that world of beauty where his wife and

  son dwelt, where wolves were nurses to creatures supposed to be their natural enemies.

  Such thoughts made Turgen very happy. It seemed that on this bright and sparkling day the birds were gayer, the grass greener, the brook more talkative than he had ever known them to be before.

  When Lad’s wants had been attended to, Turgen went as usual to the Rams’ Mountain with a feeding of hay. To his disappointment no rams appeared, though he waited behind his special rock for some time.

  “Is it possible they have gone away because of yesterday’s accident?” he worried. “No, surely not. They will return. They must. Not just because of the food, but to look for the lamb.”

  This thought had hardly come to him when he caught sight of the leader ram opposite him on the stone bridge. The old fellow moved slowly, stopping from time to time to peer into the ravine. There was something very forlorn about him and Turgen’s heart went out to him. As he came to the middle of the bridge he paused, then on what seemed to be a sudden impulse, he turned, leaped and vanished.

  Had he gone back to the herd? Turgen wondered. But no. There he was on the ledge where the lamb had fallen.

  “Eh, poor fellow,” Turgen addressed him silently. “It’s too bad I can’t tell you that your boy is alive, that I am caring for him and will soon return him to you. Don’t grieve. I will keep my word. And you—you must not go away from here.”

  CHAPTER 17

  TURGEN HAD BUT ONE DETERMINATION—TO SEE THE lamb well again and back with his family.

  The first few days were difficult. Although Lad was not as fearful and suspicious as before, he was restive and tried by every trick to free himself of the bandages. At the first opportunity, when the shoulder wound began to heal, Turgen removed the wrappings.

  Like a flash, Lad sprang to his feet, shook himself, stretched, and bounded on to Turgen’s bed. Then a look of astonishment came into his eyes as he noticed his wooden leg. After gazing around the yurta he turned to Turgen as if to question him.

  “Where am I ? Who are you ? Why do you live in such a tiny cave, where there is no room for leaping? And why is my leg so stiff?”

  Turgen would have sworn that these were the questions in Lad’s eyes. As he filled a bowl with milk he answered softly. “You are surprised, but don’t be afraid, boy. That drone, maybe your brother or uncle, who was behind you pushed you off the cliff. Remember? You have hurt yourself. But in a couple of weeks you will be quite well again. Believe me.”

  Lad accepted attention willingly now. He ate and drank with an appetite and submitted with evident enjoyment to being petted. But Turgen knew that he was not to be trusted too far, so he made a collar and leash when he wanted to take the lamb out for exercise.

  Upon leaving the yurta for the first time Lad stopped as if thunderstruck by the sunlight and the sight of his familiar mountains. Intoxicated with delight and longing, he plunged forward but the leash held him fast. He turned, called in a piercing voice—”Ma-a, Ma-a …” Then, receiving no answer, he jumped and circled desperately in an effort to be free.

  “Come, come,” said Turgen as he picked up the young savage and carried him back to the yurta. “I understand that you are reminded of your home and family. You are tired of this dark cage and impatient to be gone. But there are things that can’t be rushed. Calm yourself.”

  So for the next two days Lad stayed in the yurta while Turgen devoted himself to his comfort and was entertained in turn. The lamb learned to take his milk with a mixture of barley meal and water. He learned that grass was good to eat, and how to distinguish the sweet, tender blades from the tough dry ones which pricked and gave no satisfaction. Turgen never tired of watching him. To his fond eyes Lad was beautiful with his proud little head so like the leader ram’s and soft coat of dark brown spotted with white near groin and haunches. A darker streak the length of his long face from forehead to nostrils gave him the expression of a solemn clown.

  “Truly, you are a handsome lad,” Turgen assured him.

  Lad loved praise, and did not question anything Turgen told him. Free to go where he pleased indoors, he tapped his way boldly about the yurta, thrusting his nose into everything, sniffing, examining like a curious puppy. Only once did he show fright, when a fir log suddenly sputtered in the komelek and sent out a shower of sparks. After that he treated the fire with mixed caution and respect.

  Yes, Turgen thought, this four-legged wild creature had made his life over and filled it with a great content.

  CHAPTER 18

  IT WAS SEVERAL DAYS BEFORE TURGEN FOUND TIME TO return to the feeding ground with hay for the rams. It troubled him that he had neglected them, but in honesty he had to admit that with Lad for company he did not think so often of the others. He wondered whether he would miss them greatly should they abandon their mountain—providing, of course, they left Lad behind.

  “But that is a dreadful thought,” he reproached himself the next instant. “How could I take advantage of them by robbing them of their young one? No, no, I will return him to his family.”

  It crossed his mind also that the Great Spirit would be angry if he betrayed his trust.

  Again the only ram he could see was the leader standing on a rocky ledge above him. Turgen imagined that the old fellow was questioning him as their glances met. Impulsively he shouted: “It’s all right, my friend. The lad is doing well and I will bring him back to you myself in a couple of weeks.”

  To his pleasure the ram did not shy from his voice but seemed to wait for further news of the lost one.

  “He knows me. He knows me, and he is not afraid,” Turgen gloated. The rams would stay now, he was sure.

  Returning home, he was still some distance from the yurta when he heard Lad calling “Ma-a! Ma-a!” Just inside the door the lamb was waiting with eyes which said accusingly, “You stayed away a long time. Why? I’m lonesome and I’m hungry.”

  Not a movement escaped the sharp young eyes as Turgen busied himself preparing food, and everywhere Turgen went Lad came clumping behind him. There was no doubt he had been alarmed by Turgen’s absence and welcomed him home.

  “Eh, my darling, you are very clever,” Turgen complimented him. And to test him further he called the little savage by name: “Lad, Lad.”

  Lad cocked his head attentively, which was the only sign Turgen needed that they understood each other well.

  A few days later Turgen examined the lamb’s injuries to satisfy himself that the dislocation was mending properly and there was no infection, but it was a week or more before he decided that it was safe to remove the splints. Lad was at first bewildered, then surprised, then delighted. He leaped on the bed and
down again. He pranced and pirouetted. But when Turgen later took him for a walk he showed no desire to run away. He was happy with the day which was as perfect as September sometimes brings to the Far North. He was happy with the limited freedom he was permitted on the end of his leash. Joyously he danced and flung himself into the air, lowered his head to the ground and kicked his legs high. And when he had had his fill he came to Turgen of his own accord singing “Ma-a, Ma-a …”in a voice warm with contentment.

  Gladly this time he followed Turgen back to the yurta, and entered as if the place belonged to him. A little later, having finished a hearty meal, he folded his legs under him and fell sound asleep. Just like any healthy infant, thought Turgen with pride.

  CHAPTER 19

  REASONING THAT A CHILD CAN TELL YOU WHEN HE IS in pain and where the pain is, but an animal can not, Turgen watched intently to make sure that Lad ate and drank as he should and regularly fulfilled the demands of nature. By this time he was fully assured that the lamb did not suffer internal injuries. It was a pleasant duty Turgen performed, making certain that this wild young thing survived its mishap, and when ocasionally he saw the old ram scrutinizing him inquisitively from the mountainside he thought that the Great Spirit himself might be keeping just as watchful an eye on him. “To see that I carry out His wishes.”

  Does it seem strange that the old ram and the Great Spirit of Turgen’s dream appeared to him sometimes as one and the same person? It was not strange to Turgen, who believed quite simply that the Great Spirit was everywhere at all times. “Only man is too busy during the day to visit with Him. Therefore He comes at night to call bringing new faith and strength.” Surely He was powerful enough to take the shape of a ram if He so desired.