Just So Stories by Rudyard Kipling (e books for reading TXT) 📖

the whole countryside descending on him? You’re a very interfering people.’

‘I don’t believe you’ve brought my Daddy’s black-handled spear after all,’ said Taffy. ‘And what are you doing to my nice Stranger-man?’

They were thumping him by twos and threes and tens till his eyes turned round and round. He could only gasp and point at Taffy.

‘Where are the bad people who speared you, my darling?’ said Teshumai Tewindrow.

‘There weren’t any,’ said Tegumai. ‘My only visitor this morning was the poor fellow that you are trying to choke. Aren’t you well, or are you ill, O Tribe of Tegumai?’

‘He came with a horrible picture,’ said the Head Chief,—‘a picture that showed you were full of spears.’

‘Er-um-Pr’aps I’d better ‘splain that I gave him that picture,’ said Taffy, but she did not feel quite comfy.

‘You!’ said the Tribe of Tegumai all together. ‘Small-person-with-no-manners-who-ought-to-be-spanked! You?’

‘Taffy dear, I’m afraid we’re in for a little trouble,’ said her Daddy, and put his arm round her, so she didn’t care.

‘Explain! Explain! Explain!’ said the Head Chief of the Tribe of Tegumai, and he hopped on one foot.

‘I wanted the Stranger-man to fetch Daddy’s spear, so I drawded it,’ said Taffy. ‘There wasn’t lots of spears. There was only one spear. I drawded it three times to make sure. I couldn’t help it looking as if it stuck into Daddy’s head—there wasn’t room on the birch-bark; and those things that Mummy called bad people are my beavers. I drawded them to show him the way through the swamp; and I drawded Mummy at the mouth of the Cave looking pleased because he is a nice Stranger-man, and I think you are just the stupidest people in the world,’ said Taffy. ‘He is a very nice man. Why have you filled his hair with mud? Wash him!’

Nobody said anything at all for a longtime, till the Head Chief laughed; then the Stranger-man (who was at least a Tewara) laughed; then Tegumai laughed till he fell down flat on the bank; then all the Tribe laughed more and worse and louder. The only people who did not laugh were Teshumai Tewindrow and all the Neolithic ladies. They were very polite to all their husbands, and said ‘Idiot!’ ever so often.

Then the Head Chief of the Tribe of Tegumai cried and said and sang, ‘O Small-person-without-any-manners-who-ought-to-be-spanked, you’ve hit upon a great invention!’

‘I didn’t intend to; I only wanted Daddy’s black-handled spear,’ said Taffy.

‘Never mind. It is a great invention, and some day men will call it writing. At present it is only pictures, and, as we have seen to-day, pictures are not always properly understood. But a time will come, O Babe of Tegumai, when we shall make letters—all twenty-six of ‘em,—and when we shall be able to read as well as to write, and then we shall always say exactly what we mean without any mistakes. Let the Neolithic ladies wash the mud out of the stranger’s hair.’

‘I shall be glad of that,’ said Taffy, ‘because, after all, though you’ve brought every single other spear in the Tribe of Tegumai, you’ve forgotten my Daddy’s black-handled spear.’

Then the Head Chief cried and said and sang, ‘Taffy dear, the next time you write a picture-letter, you’d better send a man who can talk our language with it, to explain what it means. I don’t mind it myself, because I am a Head Chief, but it’s very bad for the rest of the Tribe of Tegumai, and, as you can see, it surprises the stranger.’

Then they adopted the Stranger-man (a genuine Tewara of Tewar) into the Tribe of Tegumai, because he was a gentleman and did not make a fuss about the mud that the Neolithic ladies had put into his hair. But from that day to this (and I suppose it is all Taffy’s fault), very few little girls have ever liked learning to read or write. Most of them prefer to draw pictures and play about with their Daddies—just like Taffy.

 

THERE runs a road by Merrow Down—

A grassy track to-day it is

An hour out of Guildford town,

Above the river Wey it is.

 

Here, when they heard the horse-bells ring,

The ancient Britons dressed and rode

To watch the dark Phoenicians bring

Their goods along the Western Road.

 

And here, or hereabouts, they met

To hold their racial talks and such—

To barter beads for Whitby jet,

And tin for gay shell torques and such.

 

But long and long before that time

(When bison used to roam on it)

Did Taffy and her Daddy climb

That down, and had their home on it.

 

Then beavers built in Broadstone brook

And made a swamp where Bramley stands:

And hears from Shere would come and look

For Taffimai where Shamley stands.

 

The Wey, that Taffy called Wagai,

Was more than six times bigger then;

And all the Tribe of Tegumai

They cut a noble figure then!

HOW THE ALPHABET WAS MADE

THE week after Taffimai Metallumai (we will still call her Taffy, Best Beloved) made that little mistake about her Daddy’s spear and the Stranger-man and the picture-letter and all, she went carp-fishing again with her Daddy. Her Mummy wanted her to stay at home and help hang up hides to dry on the big drying-poles outside their Neolithic Cave, but Taffy slipped away down to her Daddy quite early, and they fished. Presently she began to giggle, and her Daddy said, ‘Don’t be silly, child.’

‘But wasn’t it inciting!’ said Taffy. ‘Don’t you remember how the Head Chief puffed out his cheeks, and how funny the nice Stranger-man looked with the mud in his hair?’

‘Well do I,’ said Tegumai. ‘I had to pay two deerskins—soft ones with fringes—to the Stranger-man for the things we did to him.’

‘We didn’t do anything,’ said Taffy. ‘It was Mummy and the other Neolithic ladies—and the mud.’

‘We won’t talk about that,’ said her Daddy, ‘Let’s have lunch.’

Taffy took a marrow-bone and sat mousy-quiet for ten whole minutes, while her Daddy scratched on pieces of birch-bark with a shark’s tooth. Then she said, ‘Daddy, I’ve thinked of a secret surprise. You make a noise—any sort of noise.’

‘Ah!’ said Tegumai. ‘Will that do to begin with?’

‘Yes,’ said Taffy. ‘You look just like a carp-fish with its mouth open. Say it again, please.’

‘Ah! ah! ah!’ said her Daddy. ‘Don’t be rude, my daughter.’

‘I’m not meaning rude, really and truly,’ said Taffy. ‘It’s part of my secret-surprise-think. Do say ah, Daddy, and keep your mouth open at the end, and lend me that tooth. I’m going to draw a carp-fish’s mouth wide-open.’

‘What for?’ said her Daddy.

‘Don’t you see?’ said Taffy, scratching away on the bark. ‘That will be our little secret s’prise. When I draw a carp-fish with his mouth open in the smoke at the back of our Cave—if Mummy doesn’t mind—it will remind you of that ah-noise. Then we can play that it was me jumped out of the dark and s’prised you with that noise—same as I did in the beaver-swamp last winter.’

‘Really?’ said her Daddy, in the voice that grown-ups use when they are truly attending. ‘Go on, Taffy.’

‘Oh bother!’ she said. ‘I can’t draw all of a carp-fish, but I can draw something that means a carp-fish’s mouth. Don’t you know how they stand on their heads rooting in the mud? Well, here’s a pretence carp-fish (we can play that the rest of him is drawn). Here’s just his mouth, and that means ah.’ And she drew this.

(1.)

 

‘That’s not bad,’ said Tegumai, and scratched on his own piece of bark for himself; but you’ve forgotten the feeler that hangs across his mouth.’

‘But I can’t draw, Daddy.’

‘You needn’t draw anything of him except just the opening of his mouth and the feeler across. Then we’ll know he’s a carp-fish, ‘cause the perches and trouts haven’t got feelers. Look here, Taffy.’ And he drew this. (2.)

‘Now I’ll copy it.’ said Taffy. ‘Will you understand this when you see it?’

‘Perfectly,’ said her Daddy.

And she drew this. (3.) ‘And I’ll be quite as s’prised when I see it anywhere, as if you had jumped out from behind a tree and said ‘“Ah!”’

‘Now, make another noise,’ said Taffy, very proud.

‘Yah!’ said her Daddy, very loud.

‘H’m,’ said Taffy. ‘That’s a mixy noise. The end part is ah-carp-fish-mouth; but what can we do about the front part? Yer-yer-yer and ah! Ya!’

‘It’s very like the carp-fish-mouth noise. Let’s draw another bit of the carp-fish and join ‘em,’ said her Daddy. He was quite incited too.

‘No. If they’re joined, I’ll forget. Draw it separate. Draw his tail. If he’s standing on his head the tail will come first. ‘Sides, I think I can draw tails easiest,’ said Taffy.

‘A good notion,’ said Tegumai. “Here’s a carp-fish tail for the yer-noise.’ And he drew this. (4.)

‘I’ll try now,’ said Taffy. ”Member I can’t draw like you, Daddy. Will it do if I just draw the split part of the tail, and the sticky-down line for where it joins?’ And she drew this. (5.)

Her Daddy nodded, and his eyes were shiny bright with ‘citement.

‘That’s beautiful,’ she said. ‘Now make another noise, Daddy.’

‘Oh!’ said her Daddy, very loud.

‘That’s quite easy,’ said Taffy. ‘You make your mouth all around like an egg or a stone. So an egg or a stone will do for that.’

‘You can’t always find eggs or stones. We’ll have to scratch a round something like one.’ And he drew this. (6.)

‘My gracious!’ said Taffy, ‘what a lot of noise-pictures we’ve made,—carp-mouth, carp-tail, and egg! Now, make another noise, Daddy.’

‘Ssh!’ said her Daddy, and frowned to himself, but Taffy was too incited to notice.

‘That’s quite easy,’ she said, scratching on the bark.

‘Eh, what?’ said her Daddy. ‘I meant I was thinking, and didn’t want to be disturbed.’

‘It’s a noise just the same. It’s the noise a snake makes, Daddy, when it is thinking and doesn’t want to be disturbed. Let’s make the ssh-noise a snake. Will this do?’ And she drew this. (7.)

‘There,’ she said. ‘That’s another s’prise-secret. When you draw a hissy-snake by the door of your little back-cave where you mend the spears, I’ll know you’re thinking hard; and I’ll come in most mousy-quiet. And if you draw it on a tree by the river when you are fishing, I’ll know you want me to walk most most mousy-quiet, so as not to shake the banks.’

‘Perfectly true,’ said Tegumai. And there’s more in this game than you think. Taffy, dear, I’ve a notion that your Daddy’s daughter has hit upon the finest thing that there ever was since the Tribe of Tegumai took to using shark’s teeth instead of flints for their spear-heads. I believe we’ve found out the big secret of the world.’

‘Why?’ said Taffy, and her eyes shone too with incitement.

‘I’ll show,’ said her Daddy. ‘What’s water in the Tegumai language?’

‘Ya, of course, and it means river too—like Wagai-ya—the Wagai river.’

‘What is bad water that gives you fever if you drink it—black water—swamp-water?’

‘Yo, of course.’

‘Now look,’ said her Daddy. ‘S’pose you saw this scratched by the side of a pool in the beaver-swamp?’ And he drew this. (8.)

‘Carp-tail and round egg. Two noises mixed! Yo, bad water,’ said Taffy. ”Course I wouldn’t drink that water because I’d know you said it was bad.’

‘But I needn’t be near the water at all. I might be miles away, hunting, and still—’

‘And still it would be just the same as if you stood there and said, “G’way, Taffy, or you’ll get fever.” All that in a carp-fish-tail and a round egg! O Daddy, we must tell Mummy, quick!’ and Taffy