"Come back and put me on your
neck, misborn mountain!
neck, misborn mountain!
Kipling - Poems
"Have I leave to go?
"
The planter nodded, and Deesa dived into the woods. Moti Guj went back
to haul stumps.
Chihun was very kind to him, but he felt unhappy and forlorn for all
that. Chihun gave him a ball of spices, and tickled him under the chin,
and Chihun's little baby cooed to him after work was over, and Chihun's
wife called him a darling; but Moti Guj was a bachelor by instinct, as
Deesa was. He did not understand the domestic emotions. He wanted the
light of his universe back again--the drink and the drunken slumber, the
savage beatings and the savage caresses.
None the less he worked well, and the planter wondered. Deesa had
wandered along the roads till he met a marriage procession of his own
caste, and, drinking, dancing, and tippling, had drifted with it past
all knowledge of the lapse of time.
The morning of the eleventh day dawned, and there returned no Deesa,
Moti Guj was loosed from his ropes for the daily stint. He swung clear,
looked round, shrugged his shoulders, and began to walk away, as one
having business elsewhere.
"Hi! ho! Come back you! " shouted Chihun.
"Come back and put me on your
neck, misborn mountain! Return, splendor of the hillsides! Adornment of
all India, heave to, or I'll bang every toe off your forefoot! "
Moti Guj gurgled gently, but did not obey. Chihun ran after him with a
rope and caught him up. Moti Guj put his ears forward, and Chihun knew
what that meant, though he tried to carry it off with high words.
"None of your nonsense with me," said he. "To your pickets, devil-son! "
"Hrrump! " said Moti Guj, and that was all--that and the forebent ears.
Moti Guj put his hands in his pockets, chewed a branch for a toothpick,
and strolled about the clearing, making fun of the other elephants who
had just set to work.
Chihun reported the state of affairs to the planter, who came out with
a dog-whip and cracked it furiously. Moti Guj paid the white man
the compliment of charging him nearly a quarter of a mile across the
clearing and "Hrrumphing" him into his veranda. Then he stood outside
the house, chuckling to himself and shaking all over with the fun of it,
as an elephant will.
"We'll thrash him," said the planter. "He shall have the finest
thrashing ever elephant received.
The planter nodded, and Deesa dived into the woods. Moti Guj went back
to haul stumps.
Chihun was very kind to him, but he felt unhappy and forlorn for all
that. Chihun gave him a ball of spices, and tickled him under the chin,
and Chihun's little baby cooed to him after work was over, and Chihun's
wife called him a darling; but Moti Guj was a bachelor by instinct, as
Deesa was. He did not understand the domestic emotions. He wanted the
light of his universe back again--the drink and the drunken slumber, the
savage beatings and the savage caresses.
None the less he worked well, and the planter wondered. Deesa had
wandered along the roads till he met a marriage procession of his own
caste, and, drinking, dancing, and tippling, had drifted with it past
all knowledge of the lapse of time.
The morning of the eleventh day dawned, and there returned no Deesa,
Moti Guj was loosed from his ropes for the daily stint. He swung clear,
looked round, shrugged his shoulders, and began to walk away, as one
having business elsewhere.
"Hi! ho! Come back you! " shouted Chihun.
"Come back and put me on your
neck, misborn mountain! Return, splendor of the hillsides! Adornment of
all India, heave to, or I'll bang every toe off your forefoot! "
Moti Guj gurgled gently, but did not obey. Chihun ran after him with a
rope and caught him up. Moti Guj put his ears forward, and Chihun knew
what that meant, though he tried to carry it off with high words.
"None of your nonsense with me," said he. "To your pickets, devil-son! "
"Hrrump! " said Moti Guj, and that was all--that and the forebent ears.
Moti Guj put his hands in his pockets, chewed a branch for a toothpick,
and strolled about the clearing, making fun of the other elephants who
had just set to work.
Chihun reported the state of affairs to the planter, who came out with
a dog-whip and cracked it furiously. Moti Guj paid the white man
the compliment of charging him nearly a quarter of a mile across the
clearing and "Hrrumphing" him into his veranda. Then he stood outside
the house, chuckling to himself and shaking all over with the fun of it,
as an elephant will.
"We'll thrash him," said the planter. "He shall have the finest
thrashing ever elephant received.
