Part 31 (1/2)
”Did you notice the bell on it?”
”Yes. What was that for?”
”So that her lord and master may know when she stops working.”
”There was a funeral to-day,” says Eleanor; ”the guns have been going since morning in the jungle, to keep the spirits off. What a misery it must be to believe in 'Nats.'* That old woman there gave me a charm. I am always to wear it to keep the devils off. Do you think it will, Carol?” with a low laugh. ”Or am I theirs already?”
”Don't, Eleanor,” he cries, drawing her to him. ”I cannot bear to hear you say such things.”
She wriggles herself free, determined to tease him.
”But there are heaps of devils about,” she declares, shaking her head; ”or else why do they put up arches especially to keep them off--propitiate them, and prevent their entrance into the village?
They have little bamboo huts like dolls' houses, and place food inside, that the devils may lodge and eat. It seems that the corpse to-day had a good time of it. They gave him a month's food, new gong and gun, a complete set of new clothes, and two or three gourds of Zoo--they are always drunk with that stuff. It is an awfully strong drink, though made from rice, which sounds innocent, doesn't it? Rice always reminds me of my bib-and-tucker days.”
”It is rather like English cider, with the strength of whisky. But what a lot of information you pick up, little woman, while I am out shooting!”
”It terrifies me when you are away all day,” she declares. ”Then I feel lonely--deserted--afraid. Tigers and bears are such alarming things to picture you chasing, though you are accompanied by a troop of negroes.”
Eleanor leans back in a low chair, gazing wistfully across the wild country. She can see the course of the Irrawaddy river, with its numerous rapids and picturesque cascades. It seems only the other day that she and Carol steamed up it, past Mandalay, Bhanio, and Myitkyina.
She wishes they could travel on overland through the jade, amber, and ruby mines, but Carol fears for her, and prefers to stay in these more quasi-civilised regions.
A group of women and girls strikes her eye, carrying loads supported by a strap encircling their foreheads, after the curious fas.h.i.+on of Dundee fisherwomen.
The unmarried girls wear square-cut fringes and their hair hanging loosely at the sides to the shoulders, while the married women have it done up decorously on the head.
”I am glad I have not to carry loads like those poor creatures,” says Eleanor softly; ”yet perhaps an external load is better than an internal one. Sometimes, Carol, I remember that I once had a conscience. It just stirs and half wakes when I am quite alone. Often in the darkness I fancy I see Philip, or feel as if he were near me. I would sooner die a thousand deaths than meet his eye.”
”Do not think of it, dearest; we have cut ourselves adrift from old a.s.sociations for that purpose. There is nothing to remind you or trouble you.”
”Nothing,” replied Eleanor, ”I am content, Carol. We have discovered an Eden--after the fall.”
Eleanor is in a roving mood, and while Carol is engaged in the mild sport of pheasant shooting for a change, she wanders alone into the jungle to watch the children playing with large beans like marbles.
Though she cannot understand what they say, she grasps the method of the game, watching it with amused interest. They are such queer little dusky creatures.
One boy among them especially attracts her attention. His face is strangely European, and his features noticeably different to those of his comrades. Yet his skin is dark and swarthy, there can be no mistaking the black blood in his veins.
Now and again Eleanor fancies she catches an English exclamation from his lips. She wishes she could join the children in their gambols, as in her girlhood at Copthorne. But they eye her suspiciously and sidle away when she approaches.
She wanders back disconsolately, wis.h.i.+ng she knew more of the boy with the European face.
That very day her wish is satisfied. It is late in the afternoon, and Carol is still out. She is too blinded by love to resent his selfishness in leaving her so much alone, and wanders down to the river, singing from sheer lightness of heart.
She sees as she saunters along a trap set for a deer, and gives it a wide berth as she pa.s.ses.
It consists of a noose fastened to the top of a pliant tree, which is bent down and pegged across a path leading down to the water. Thus it serves to entrap prey on the way to drink.
She has scarcely gone a hundred yards when a shriek rends the air, and turning simultaneously Eleanor sees a small boy trip over the noose, which, released from the peg, flies back with the full force of the tree, carrying him into the air with it.