"Was that pig-sticking?" asked Sa'-zada.
"It was," declared Big Tusk; "and my Mother, who was in charge of a Sounder of at least thirty Pigs, knew all about this game. We'd be feeding in the sweet bowlchie grass, or in a thur khet, when suddenly I'd hear her say, 'Waugh! Ung-h-gh!' which meant, 'Danger! lie low.' Then, watching, we'd see those of the Black-kind here, and there, and all over, with flags in their hands to drive the Pigs certain ways, and to show the Sahibs which way we went. Mother would always make us lie still until the very last minute; but almost always, sooner or later, the Sahibs would come galloping on their horses right in amongst us. 'Ugh-ugh-ugh-ugh!' Mother would call to us, and this meant, 'Run for it, but keep to cover'; and away we'd go, from sun khet to dol field, and then into shur grass, from Sirsee Bund to Hirdee Bund, or into the tall, thick bowlchie. Now the trouble was this way: Mother was so big and strong that the Sahibs on their ponies always galloped after, thinking her a Boar. Even the Black Men with the flags would cry, 'Hong! Hong! Burra dant wallah!' which means in their speech, 'A Boar of big tusks.' Many a time I've heard Mother chuckle over the run she'd given the Horsemen, for we'd lie up in the grass, and listen to the White-faced ones, the Sahibs, curse the Black Men most heartily for their foolishness in calling Mother a big-tusked Boar. It was all done to save the Tuskers, for while the Sahibs were chasing Mother, many an old chap has saved having a spear thrust through him by clearing off to some other bund."
"You did have a good schooling," remarked Gidar, the Jackal. "But did the Sahibs never spear any of your young Brothers?"
"No; as I have said, it was only a big-tusked one they cared for. But to me it seemed such a cruel thing, even when I was young; killing us with the sharp spears—for, more than once I've heard the scream of a Boar as he was stabbed to death."
"But what were you doing in the dol grass, you and your big Mother?" asked Bagh. "Were not you eating the grain of the poor villagers? I remember in my time, when I was a free Lord of the Jungles, that a poor old ryot (farmer) had a little field—a new field it was—just in the edge of the Jungle. I also remember it was raji he grew in it, and he prayed to me as though I were one of his Hindoo Gods, asking me to keep close watch over his field, and to kill all the Pigs, and the Chital, and Black Buck that might come there to destroy his raji. Even, to give me a liking for the place, that I might mark it down in my line of hunt, he tied an old Cow there for my first Kill. I was the making of that Man," declared Bagh, sitting down and smoothing his big coarse mustache with his velvet paw—"the making of him, for he had a splendid crop of raji, and I, why I must have killed a dozen Pigs in and about his field."
"Oh, dear me!" cried Magh. "Sugared peanuts! Every Jungle Dweller is growing into a benefactor of the Men; even Pig is a much abused, innocent chap; and here's Bagh a protector of the poor ryot."
"But what were you doing in the dol field, Grunter?" queried Cobra; "that's what Bagh wants to know."
"Looking for Snakes," answered Boar, sulkily. "But what if we did eat a trifle of the grain; was that excuse for the Sahibs killing us? With their Horses did they not beat down and destroy more than we did? And have not the people of the land, the Black-kind, taken more from us in the way of food than we ever did from their fields? Many a time have they been saved from starvation by the meat of my tribe. And yet, through it all, we get nothing but a bad name, and that just because we stick up for our rights. Bagh talks about keeping us from the Man's field; that is just like him—it is either a false tale or he ate 'Squeakers'—little Pigs that couldn't protect themselves. Would he tackle Me? Not a bit of it! If he did I'd soon put different colored stripes on his jacket—red stripes. He's a big, sneaking coward, that's what Bagh is. Why, I've seen him sitting with his back against a rock, afraid to move, while six Jungle Dogs snapped at his very nose—waiting for him to get up that they might fight him from all sides. Ugh, ugh! a fine Lord of the Jungle! a sneak, to eat little Pigs!
"But I did more than keep a raji field for a poor villager; I saved his life, and from Bagh, too. I don't know that he had ever given me to eat willingly, or even made pooja to me, but I was coming up out of his thur field one evening, and he was fair in my path, with one of those foolish ringed sticks in his hand. 'Ugh!' I said, meaning, 'Get out of the way,' but he only stood there.
"This made me cross, and I thought he was disputing the road with me, for I am not like Bagh, the Lord of the Jungle, who slinks to one side. Then I spoke again to the man, 'Ugh, ugh, wungh!' meaning that I was about to charge. All the time I was coming closer to him on the path. Then I saw what it was; my friend, Stripes the Tiger, was crouched just beyond the Man, lashing the grass with his long, silly tail.