The Rajah consented, and the Chattee-maker returned home to his wife, and said: “They have made me commander-in-chief, which is a very difficult post for me to fill, because I shall have to ride at the head of all the army, and you know I never was on a horse in my life. But I have succeeded in gaining a little delay, as the Rajah has given me permission to go first alone and reconnoitre the enemy’s camp. Do you therefore provide a very quiet pony, for you know I cannot ride, and I will start to-morrow morning.”
But, before the Chattee-maker had started, the Rajah sent over to him a most magnificent charger richly caparisoned, which he begged he would ride when going to see the enemy’s camp. The Chattee-maker was frightened almost out of his life, for the charger that the Rajah had sent him was very powerful and spirited, and he felt sure that even if he ever got on it, he should very soon tumble off; however, he did not dare to refuse it, for fear of offending the Rajah by not accepting his present. So he sent back to him a message of thanks, and said to his wife, “I cannot go on the pony, now that the Rajah has sent me this fine horse; but how am I ever to ride it?” “Oh, don’t be frightened,” she answered; “you’ve only got to get upon it, and I will tie you firmly on, so that you cannot tumble off, and if you start at night, no one will see that you are tied on.” “Very well,” he said. So that night his wife brought the horse that the Rajah had sent him to the door. “Indeed,” said the Chattee-maker, “I can never get into that saddle, it is so high up.” “You must jump,” said his wife. So he tried to jump several times, but each time he jumped he tumbled down again. “I always forget when I am jumping,” said he, “which way I ought to turn.” “Your face must be toward the horse’s head,” she answered. “To be sure, of course,” he cried, and giving one great jump he jumped into the saddle, but with his face toward the horse’s tail. “This won’t do at all,” said his wife as she helped him down again; “try getting on without jumping.” “I never can remember,” he continued, “when I have got my left foot in the stirrup, what to do with my right foot or where to put it.” “That must go in the other stirrup,” she answered; “let me help you.” So, after many trials, in which he tumbled down very often, for the horse was fresh and did not like standing still, the Chattee-maker got into the saddle; but no sooner had he got there than he cried, “Oh, wife, wife! tie me very firmly as quickly as possible, for I know I shall jump down if I can.” Then she fetched some strong rope and tied his feet firmly into the stirrups, and fastened one stirrup to the other, and put another rope round his waist and another round his neck, and fastened them to the horse’s body and neck and tail.
When the horse felt all these ropes about him he could not imagine what queer creature had got upon his back, and he began rearing and kicking and prancing, and at last set off full gallop, as fast as he could tear, right across country. “Wife, wife!” cried the Chattee-maker, “you forgot to tie my hands.” “Never mind,” said she; “hold on by the mane.” So he caught hold of the horse’s mane as firmly as he could. Then away went horse, away went Chattee-maker—away, away, away, over hedges, over ditches, over rivers, over plains—away, away, like a flash of lightning—now this way, now that—on, on, on, gallop, gallop, gallop—until they came in sight of the enemy’s camp.
The Chattee-maker did not like his ride at all, and when he saw where it was leading him he liked it still less, for he thought the enemy would catch him and very likely kill him. So he determined to make one desperate effort to be free, and stretching out his hand as the horse shot past a young banyan tree, seized hold of it with all his might, hoping that the resistance it offered might cause the ropes that tied him to break. But the horse was going at his utmost speed, and the soil in which the banyan tree grew was loose, so that when the Chattee-maker caught hold of it and gave it such a violent pull, it came up by the roots, and on he rode as fast as before, with the tree in his hand.
All the soldiers in the camp saw him coming, and having heard that an army was to be sent against them, made sure that the Chattee-maker was one of the vanguard. “See,” cried they, “here comes a man of gigantic stature on a mighty horse! He rides at full speed across the country, tearing up the very trees in his rage! He is one of the opposing force; the whole army must be close at hand. If they are such as he, we are all dead men.” Then, running to their Rajah, some of them cried again, “Here comes the whole force of the enemy” (for the story had by this time become exaggerated); “they are men of gigantic stature, mounted on mighty horses; as they come they tear up the very trees in their rage; we can oppose men, but not monsters such as these.” These were followed by others, who said, “It is all true,” for by this time the Chattee-maker had got pretty near the camp; “they’re coming! they’re coming! let us fly! let us fly! fly, fly for your lives!” And the whole panic-stricken multitude fled from the camp (those who had seen no cause for alarm going because the others did, or because they did not care to stay by themselves), after having obliged their Rajah to write a letter to the one whose country he was about to invade to say that he would not do so, and propose terms of peace, and to sign it and seal it with his seal. Scarcely had all the people fled from the camp when the horse on which the Chattee-maker was came galloping into it, and on his back rode the Chattee-maker, almost dead from fatigue, with the banyan tree in his hand: just as he reached the camp the ropes by which he was tied broke, and he fell to the ground. The horse stood still, too tired with his long run to go farther. On recovering his senses, the Chattee-maker found, to his surprise, that the whole camp, full of rich arms, clothes and trappings, was entirely deserted. In the principal tent, moreover, he found a letter addressed to his Rajah, announcing the retreat of the invading army and proposing terms of peace.
So he took the letter, and returned home with it as fast as he could, leading his horse all the way, for he was afraid to mount him again. It did not take him long to reach his house by the direct road, for whilst riding he had gone a more circuitous journey than was necessary, and he got there just at nightfall. His wife ran out to meet him, overjoyed at his speedy return. As soon as he saw her, he said, “Ah, wife, since I saw you last I’ve been all round the world, and had many wonderful and terrible adventures. But never mind that now: send this letter quickly to the Rajah by a messenger, and send the horse also that he sent for me to ride. He will then see, by the horse looking so tired, what a long ride I’ve had; and if he is sent on beforehand, I shall not be obliged to ride him up to the palace door to-morrow morning, as I otherwise should, and that would be very tiresome, for most likely I should tumble off.” So his wife sent the horse and the letter to the Rajah, and a message that her husband would be at the palace early next morning, as it was then late at night. And next day he went down there, as he had said he would; and when the people saw him coming, they said, “This man is as modest as he is brave; after having put our enemies to flight, he walks quite simply to the door, instead of riding here in state, as another man would.” For they did not know that the Chattee-maker walked because he was afraid to ride.
The Rajah came to the palace door to meet him, and paid him all possible honor. Terms of peace were agreed upon between the two countries, and the Chattee-maker was rewarded for all he had done by being given twice as much rank and wealth as he had before, and he lived very happily all the rest of his life.
FOOTNOTE:
[81] Potter.
