Tales of the Punjab: Folklore of India Part 20

'What a plague do you mean?' cried he, angrily turning on his companion. 'Why did you throw your shoes at my head?'

[Ill.u.s.tration: The second traveler preparing to fling his shoe at the partridge]

'Brother!' replied the other mildly, 'do not be vexed. I didn't throw them at you, but at a Partridge that was sitting on your stick.'

'On my stick! Do you take me for a fool?' shouted the injured man, in a great rage. 'Don't tell me such c.o.c.k-and-bull stories. First you insult me, and then you lie like a coward; but I'll teach you manners!'

Then he fell upon his fellow-traveller without more ado, and they fought until they could not see out of their eyes, till their noses were bleeding, their clothes in rags, and the Jackal had nearly died of laughing.

'Are you satisfied?' asked the Partridge of her friend.

'Well,' answered the Jackal, 'you have certainly made me laugh, but I doubt if you could make me cry. It is easy enough to be a buffoon; it is more difficult to excite the higher emotions.'

'Let us see,' retorted the Partridge, somewhat piqued; 'there is a huntsman with his dogs coming along the road. Just creep into that hollow tree and watch me: if you don't weep scalding tears, you must have no feeling in you!'

The Jackal did as he was bid, and watched the Partridge, who began fluttering about the bushes till the dogs caught sight of her, when she flew to the hollow tree where the Jackal was hidden. Of course the dogs smelt him at once, and set up such a yelping and scratching that the huntsman came up, and seeing what it was, dragged the Jackal out by the tail. Whereupon the dogs worried him to their hearts'

content, and finally left him for dead.

By and by he opened his eyes--for he was only foxing--and saw the Partridge sitting on a branch above him.

'Did you cry?' she asked anxiously. 'Did I rouse your higher emo---'

'Be quiet, will you!' snarled the Jackal; 'I'm half dead with fear!'

So there the Jackal lay for some time, getting the better of his bruises, and meanwhile he became hungry.

'Now is the time for friendship!' said he to the Partridge. 'Get me a good dinner, and I will acknowledge you are a true friend.'

'Very well!' replied the Partridge; 'only watch me, and help yourself when the time comes.'

Just then a troop of women came by, carrying their husbands' dinners to the harvest-field.

The Partridge gave a little plaintive cry, and began fluttering along from bush to bush as if she were wounded.

'A wounded bird!--a wounded bird!' cried the women; 'we can easily catch it!'

Whereupon they set off in pursuit, but the cunning Partridge played a thousand tricks, till they became so excited over the chase that they put their bundles on the ground in order to pursue it more nimbly.

The Jackal, meanwhile, seizing his opportunity, crept up, and made off with a good dinner.

'Are you satisfied now?' asked the Partridge.

'Well,' returned the Jackal, 'I confess you have given me a very good dinner; you have also made me laugh--and cry--ahem! But, after all, the great test of friendship is beyond you--you couldn't save my life!'

'Perhaps not,' acquiesced the Partridge mournfully, 'I am so small and weak. But it grows late--we should be going home; and as it is a long way round by the ford, let us go across the river. My friend the crocodile will carry us over.'

Accordingly, they set off for the river, and the crocodile kindly consented to carry them across, so they sat on his broad back and he ferried them over. But just as they were in the middle of the stream the Partridge remarked, 'I believe the crocodile intends to play us a trick. How awkward if he were to drop you into the water!'

'Awkward for you too!' replied the Jackal, turning pale.

'Not at all! not at all! I have wings, you haven't.'

On this the Jackal shivered and shook with fear, and when the crocodile, in a gruesome growl, remarked that he was hungry and wanted a good meal, the wretched creature hadn't a word to say.

'Pooh!' cried the Partridge airily, 'don't try tricks on _us_,-- I should fly away, and as for my friend the Jackal, you couldn't hurt _him_. He is not such a fool as to take his life with him on these little excursions; he leaves it at home, locked up in the cupboard.'

'Is that a fact?' asked the crocodile, surprised.

'Certainly!' retorted the Partridge. 'Try to eat him if you like, but you will only tire yourself to no purpose.'

'Dear me! how very odd!' gasped the crocodile; and he was so taken aback that he carried the Jackal safe to sh.o.r.e.

'Well, are you satisfied now?' asked the Partridge.

'My dear madam!' quoth the Jackal, 'you have made me laugh, you have made me cry, you have given me a good dinner, and you have saved my life; but upon my honour I think you are too clever for a friend; so, good-bye!'

And the Jackal never went near the Partridge again.

THE SNAKE-WOMAN AND KING ALI MARDAN

Once upon a time King Ali Mardan went out a-hunting, and as he hunted in the forest above the beautiful Dal lake, which stretches clear and placid between the mountains and the royal town of Srinagar, he came suddenly on a maiden, lovely as a flower, who, seated beneath a tree, was weeping bitterly. Bidding his followers remain at a distance, he went up to the damsel, and asked her who she was, and how she came to be alone in the wild forest.

'O great King,' she answered, looking up in his face, 'I am the Emperor of China's handmaiden, and as I wandered about in the pleasure-grounds of his palace I lost my way. I know not how far I have come since, but now I must surely die, for I am weary and hungry!'

'So fair a maiden must not die while Ali Mardan can deliver her,'

quoth the monarch, gazing ardently on the beautiful girl. So he bade his servants convey her with the greatest care to his summer palace in the Shalimar gardens, where the fountains scatter dewdrops over the beds of flowers, and laden fruit-trees bend over the marble colonnades. And there, amid the flowers and sunshine, she lived with the King, who speedily became so enamoured of her that he forgot everything else in the world.

So the days pa.s.sed until it chanced that a Jogi's servant, coming back from the holy lake Gangabal, which lies on the snowy peak of Haramukh, whither he went every year to draw water for his master, pa.s.sed by the gardens; and over the high garden wall he saw the tops of the fountains, leaping and splashing like silver sunshine. He was so astonished at the sight that he put his vessel of water on the ground, and climbed over the wall, determined to see the wonderful things inside. Once in the garden amid the fountains and flowers, he wandered hither and thither, bewildered by beauty, until, wearied out by excitement, he lay down under a tree and fell asleep.

Now the King, coming to walk in the garden, found the man lying there, and noticed that he held something fast in his closed right hand.

Stooping down, Ali Mardan gently loosed the fingers, and discovered a tiny box filled with a sweet-smelling ointment. While he was examining this more closely, the sleeper awoke, and missing his box, began to weep and wail; whereupon the King bade him be comforted, and showing him the box, promised to return it if he would faithfully tell why it was so precious to him.

'O great King,' replied the Jogi's servant, 'the box belongs to my master, and it contains a holy ointment of many virtues. By its power I am preserved from all harm, and am able to go to Gangabal and return with my jar full of water in so short a time that my master is never without the sacred element.'

Then the King was astonished, and, looking at the man keenly, said, 'Tell me the truth! Is your master indeed such a holy saint? Is he indeed such a wonderful man?'

'O King,' replied the servant, 'he is indeed such a man, and there is nothing in the world he does not know!'

This reply aroused the King's curiosity, and putting the box in his vest, he said to the servant, 'Go home to your master, and tell him King Ali Mardan has his box, and means to keep it until he comes to fetch it himself.' In this way he hoped to entice the holy Jogi into his presence.

So the servant, seeing there was nothing else to be done, set off to his master, but he was two years and a half in reaching home, because he had not the precious box with the magical ointment; and all this time Ali Mardan lived with the beautiful stranger in the Shalimar palace, and forgot everything in the wide world except her loveliness. Yet he was not happy, and a strange look came over his face, and a stony stare into his eyes.

Now, when the servant reached home at last, and told his master what had occurred, the Jogi was very angry, but as he could not get on without the box which enabled him to procure the water from Gangabal, he set off at once to the court of King Ali Mardan. On his arrival, the King treated him with the greatest honour, and faithfully fulfilled the promise of returning the box.

Now the Jogi was indeed a learned man, and when he saw the King he knew at once all was not right, so he said, 'O King, you have been gracious unto me, and I in my turn desire to do you a kind action; so tell me truly,--have you always had that white scared face and those stony eyes?'