The Hot Swamp by R. M. Ballantyne (latest novels to read .txt) 📖

His head sank on his breast and he tried to banish thought altogether. At the same moment his eyes met the meek, patient look of Brownie.

“Ah, pup,” he exclaimed, stooping to fondle the soft brown head as he muttered to himself, “you teach me a lesson and put me to shame, despite your want of speech. You are awaiting my commands, ready to give unquestioning obedience—whether to go to the right, or left, or to lie down. And here am I, not only a prince, but supposed to be a reasoning man, rebelling against the decree of my Maker—my Spirit-Father! Surely there must be One who called my spirit into being—else had I never been, for I could not create myself, and it must be His will that I am smitten—and for a good end, else He were not good!”

For a few minutes longer he continued to meditate in silence. Then he turned quickly and picked up the axe which lay at the entrance of the hut.

“Come, pup,” he cried, cheerfully, “you and I must build another house. You see, we shall have plenty of game and venison soon to guard from the wolves, and it would be disagreeable to keep it in the palace along with ourselves—wouldn’t it? So, come along, Brownie.”

Thus appealed to, the pup gave its assent by some violent tail activities, and, in a few minutes, had resumed its former post as superintendent of the works, while its master toiled like a second Samson in the hope of driving mental distress away through the pores of his skin.

He was not indeed altogether unsuccessful, for so intimate is the mysterious connection between spirit and matter that he felt comparative relief—even to the extent of cheerfulness—when the muscles were in violent action and the perspiration was streaming down his brow; but when the second hut, or larder, was completed his depression returned in greater power than before.

Then he took to hunting with tremendous energy, a plan which was highly approved of by his canine companion. He also devoted himself to his specific duties as swine-herd; collected the animals from all quarters into several large herds, counted them as well as he could, and drove them to suitable feeding-grounds. On retiring each day from this work, into which he threw all his power, he felt so fatigued as to be quite ready for supper and bed.

Gradually he became accustomed to the life, and at length, after a considerable time of it, a feeling of resignation to his fate began to tell upon him.

The effect of prolonged solitude also began even to numb the powers of his mind. He was fully aware of this, and tried to shake it off, for he shuddered more at the thought of mental than of physical decay. Among other things, he took to talking more frequently to Brownie, but although the pup was, in many respects, a most valuable and sympathetic companion, he could not prevent the conversation from being rather one-sided.

By degrees the summer merged into autumn; the foliage assumed the tints of green and gold. Then it became russet, and finally the cold bleak winds of a northern winter shrieked through the valley and swept the leaves away.

During all this time no human being had gone near that region, or paid the forlorn prince a visit, except once when the hunter of the Hot Swamp made his appearance.

The rebellious tribes retained too vivid a recollection of the slaughter that had taken place during and after the fight with King Hudibras, to risk a second encounter with that monarch, so that the place was at that time absolutely deserted by human beings—though it was sufficiently peopled by the lower animals. On the occasion when the hunter unexpectedly appeared, he demanded of Bladud an account of his stewardship. The report was so satisfactory that the hunter became, for him, quite amiable; commended his swine-herd and drove off a number of the pigs to market. On his return, laden with the few household goods for which he had bartered them, he paid the prince another visit, and even condescended to accept an invitation to enter his hut and partake of a roast of venison which was at the time being prepared for the mid-day meal. He was still, however, very brusque and taciturn.

“No one has been near me during the whole summer or autumn but yourself,” observed Bladud with an involuntary sigh.

“You must be pleased at that,” returned the hunter, sharply; “you said you came here for solitude.”

“Truly I did; but I had not thought it would be so hard to bear.”

“Why do you seek it, then, if you don’t like it?” asked the hunter in the same brusque, impatient manner which characterised all his words and actions.

“I am forced to seek it by a Power which may not be resisted with impunity.”

“There is no such power!” exclaimed the hunter with a wild, demoniac laugh. “I can resist any power—all powers. There is nothing that I cannot resist and overcome.”

The gigantic man, with his dishevelled locks and shaggy beard, looked so fierce and powerful, as he sat on the opposite side of the fire glaring at his host, that Bladud became impressed with a hope that the maniac—for such he evidently was—would not attempt to prove his resistless power there and then. In order to avert such a catastrophe, he assumed an air of the most perfect ease and indifference to the boast, and asked him with a bland smile if he would have another slice of venison.

The hunter seemed to be disconcerted by the question, but, being a hungry man and a ravenous eater, he accepted the offer and began to eat the slice in moody silence.

“Your good pup has been a real blessing to me,” resumed the prince a few minutes later, during which time he had devoted himself to his own portion of food, “not only in the way of helping me to hunt and drive the pigs, but as a companion who can do all but speak.”

“He could speak if you would let him,” returned the hunter. “I speak to my dogs continually, and they always answer—not with their tongues, for that is not dog-language, but with their eyes—and I know every word they speak. You would wonder how clever they are, and what droll things they say sometimes.”

He burst into a wild hilarious laugh at this point, as if the thought of the canine pleasantries were too much for him; then suddenly became grave, and scowled furtively at his host, as if he felt that he had committed himself.

“You are right,” replied Bladud, affecting not to observe the scowl. “My pup often speaks to me with his eyes, but I am not so good at understanding the language as you appear to be. No doubt I shall acquire it in time.”

“Then you don’t like being alone?” said the hunter, after a pause, during which Bladud saw that he was eyeing him keenly, though he pretended not to observe this.

“No, I don’t like it at all, but it can’t be helped.”

“Well, it might have been helped, for I could have sent them to you.”

“Sent whom?”

“A man and a boy. They were not together, but came to my hut at different times inquiring for you, but, knowing your desire for solitude, I turned them away on the wrong scent.”

“I’m glad you did,” returned the prince, “for I want to be troubled by neither man nor boy. Yet I wonder who they could be. Did they say why they wanted to find me?”

“No, they did not say, and I would not ask; what cared I about their reasons?”

“Yet you care enough for me, it appears, to say you would have sent them to me if you knew I had been lonely. What was the appearance of the man?”

“He was old, but very strong, though not so big as me—or you. His hair was long and white; so was his beard. He wore a long dark robe, and carried a very big staff.”

Bladud had no difficulty in recognising the description of his friend the Hebrew.

“And the boy; what was he like?”

“Like all boys, active and impudent.”

“I am afraid,” returned the prince with a slight smile, “that your acquaintance with boys cannot have been extensive—they are not all active and impudent.”

“Most of those that have crossed my path are so. At all events, this one was, for when I pointed out the direction you had gone—which was just the opposite way from here—he said, ‘I don’t believe you!’ and when I leaped on him to give him his deserts, he dodged me, and fled into the woods like a squirrel. It was as well, for I should have killed him.”

“I am not sorry he escaped you, then,” said Bladud, with a laugh, “though I scarcely think you would have killed the poor lad even if you had caught him.”

“Oh yes, I would. And I’ll kill you if you venture to doubt my word.”

As he said this the hunter sprang to his feet, and, drawing his knife, seemed about to leap upon his host, who, however, sat perfectly still.

“I should be sorry that you should die,” said Bladud in a calm voice, while he kept his eyes steadily fixed on those of the maniac. “You have heard, have you not, of that terrible disease of the East, called leprosy?”

“Yes—the ship-captains have often spoken of it,” said the madman, whose mind, like that of a child, could be easily turned into new channels.

“Look! I have got that disease. The Power which you profess to despise has sent it to me. If you so much as touch me, your doom is fixed.”

He uncovered his shoulder as he spoke and displayed the white spot.

Bladud felt quite uncertain how this would be received by the madman, but he was scarcely prepared for what followed. No sooner did the hunter see the spot and realise what it meant, than without a word he turned, caught up his bundle, uttered a yell of terror, and fled from the spot, closely followed by his dogs, which howled as if in sympathy.