'TALLY HO'—BUDMÂSH
'As the egg, so the chicken.'
—Free translation of a native proverb.
...........
Two figures stood on the edge of the stream of traffic which flows unceasingly along Piccadilly in the dusty forenoons of the season. They stood with their eyes blinking watchfully in the sun that glared with a friendly and altogether satisfying glare upon the stone pavement. The one was the figure of a small boy; his legs were planted firmly apart, and a wide-brimmed straw hat was set sturdily on the very back of his head. A very small, very brown-faced boy was he, with round blue eyes, and hair fair almost to whiteness; rising a stout five, and his name—for the purposes of this chronicle—was 'Tally Ho.' The other was the presentment of a silent and melancholy Hindu, with a black beard, and turbaned head of a dusky mahogany; lean, and white-clothed, he stood slightly behind, in an attitude of respectful protection.
They gazed curiously at the changing, throbbing flow of Western energy, and ever and again the flow glanced over its shoulder in its ceaseless, and apparently objectless, quest, to wonder in its turn at those two strange figures from an unknown and far-off land, washed up high and dry on the edge of the stream.
'De big fire is velly hot,'—Tally Ho always called the sun the big fire—'as hot as Inja, doesn't 'oo tink, Kotah Lal?'
'If Tally Ho Sahib say, then so it is; yet it is in his servant's mind that in India there were even days when Tally Ho Sahib called that they should put the big fire out, and greatly pull the punkah, and, as the Sahib knows, there be no punkahs this side of the big water.'
'My mislemembers,' said Tally Ho. 'What do 'ose memsahibs goin' lound on de wheels, dey're velly ugly, dey makle my's head ache—tell dem to 'top, Kotah Lal,' and he indicated with a stumpy brown forefinger two dashing young females on the inevitable bicycle.
'They go thus because after them comes a big bad god, and so perchance they will escape,' said Kotah Lal, with a glimmer of a smile on his impassive features.
'For why are deir leggies one on each side?' said the irrepressible Tally Ho loudly, as another dame flew by; 'it is not so in my country; are de wheels alive, Kotah Lal?'
'It may be so; thy servant is a stranger in this land, Sahib, where all men seem possessed of devils, so fast they run to do naught all the day long. But the Doctor Sahib on the big ship did tell me that in this country there be a great and bad spirit called Indi-Gesti-Un, who pursues men to their undoing, so that they run ever faster to escape.'
'Where does he live, Kotah Lal?' said Tally Ho, concernedly.
Kotah Lal placed his hand upon the regions of his middle, and smiled mournfully. This seemed to supply Tally Ho with a fresh idea.
'Kotah Lal,' he said suddenly, thrusting his small brown fists deeply into the pockets of his holland knickers, 'what is dere for my's tiffin? Is dere cully and lice, allee samee as on de big ship?'
'The Sahib commanded and the order has gone forth; without doubt there be these things for the Sahib's lunch.'
'Velly dood, my tinks my's empty.' Tally Ho withdrew one hand from his pocket, and passed it meditatively over his small stomach. 'Which is de way, Kotah Lal?'
'It will be necessary to walk down the market of the dried grasses, and through the square where are the four great lions that the Sahib looked upon with favour yesterday, to where the trains run in the smokey black hole under the ground. So said the Sahib in the blue clothes of whom I asked anon.'
'Tum on,' said Tally Ho; 'my's velly empty, my wiss Foo Ching was in Ingeliland; he made exkullent dood chow-chow; my loves Foo Ching, Kotah Lal.'
Foo Ching, the Chinese cook of the steamer which had two days before achieved the honour of safely bearing from India, and landing one 'Tally Ho,' baptismally known as Geoffrey Standing Blount, was that young man's latest bosom friend, and at that time mainly responsible for the eccentricities of his speech.
'My wiss my was corpington (corpulent), like Foo Ching; Foo Ching was velly nice and corpington, and my's velly empty.'
Tally Ho, who usually carried his head loftily, drooped it to contemplate mournfully his small person, and in so doing butted it into the stomach of an elderly commercial hurrying to his mid-day meal.
'My begs 'oor pardon,' said Tally Ho, pained but polite, raising his hat and rubbing his snub nose. The commercial, with soul intent on the undercut, paid no attention, but hurried on. 'Oos a lude man,' said Tally Ho, indignantly; 'a velly lude man.' He stared reproachfully after him up the street till the stream had swallowed him up.
In time, and by dint of much circuitous marching and counter-marching, escaping with many a dodge and device the rumbling onslaught of 'busses, and the 'scorching' attack of bicycles, they reached the black hole known to the Westerns as Charing Cross Station. The interview between Kotah Lal and the ticket clerk ended satisfactorily in his obtaining tickets for not more than two stations further than their destination. Armed with these, the Hindu secured Tally Ho by the arm, and descended gravely to the platform.
'Dlefful 'tuffy,' commented Tally Ho, with a sniff of disgust; 'my wantee turn scent on my's hankeychoo.'
'Let the Sahib abide but a moment in patience—here cometh the panting one with the fiery eye.'
A train drew up, they got into an empty carriage, and, as Tally Ho remarked, 'de Injun blewed its nose,' and 'shaking its head,' went on its way towards the west. Now it is not to be peculiarly remembered against Kotah Lal that upon this stifling afternoon he was inclined to doze, bearing in mind that for two nights, being cumbered with the duties of arrival, he had not slept,—moreover, the fact that within two minutes of entering the train he fell into a deep and dreamless slumber, he himself has since been heard to explain as a particular and malicious visitation of the Evil One.
Before Westminster Bridge was reached Tally Ho had exhausted the fascinations of the carriage, and was become unfeignedly bored.
'My will wait till de tlain 'tops,' he thought, 'and ask Kotah Lal if my may det down and 'peak to Blown.'
Brown, a particular friend of his, was an engine-driver on the little one-horse line that ran past his home in the North-West Provinces. The train pulled up with a jerk at the station, and Tally Ho turned to proffer his request, but a gently ecstatic snore from the turbaned head in the opposite corner warned him that his protector was far away in the Land of Nod.
'Poo'ah Kotah Lal,' said Tally Ho compassionately, 'he's velly sleepy, my will not wakle him up.' This he said consideringly, having in his small mind the semi-conviction that it might be better not to ask for his protector's leave in this matter. 'My tinks,' pursued Tally Ho, 'Blown will be wanting my.'
He moved towards the door, but at this moment the train resumed its grimy way, and burrowed once more into the bowels of the city. Tally Ho paused, his small fist on the handle.
'My will wait,' he said, 'till de silly tlain 'tops again.'
He amused himself by turning and re-turning the handle, putting his whole soul into the operation, and missing being projected into a murky space by the dispensation of a merciful Providence, and the skin of his tiny white teeth. The train emerged into the light, and pulled up again in the open space just eastward of St James's Park Station. Kotah Lal snored peacefully.
'My's velly good not to wakle him,' mused Tally Ho, as he slid out of the carriage and bumped on his little seat to the ground. 'My will 'peak clossly to Blown—dis is a baddy tlain.'
He frowned as he picked himself up, and, shaking himself, took his grubby way almost under the train towards the engine. The engine-driver was looking ahead and turning on steam as Tally Ho caught him in profile.
'It's not Blown,' he gasped, astonished, and the train moved on past a gaping atom of humanity.
'’Top, 'top, you baddy tlain, my says 'top!' But the train stopped not, and went on its way rejoicing into the cleaner parts of the city, bearing with it an unconsciously slumbering Hindu.
Now the word 'tears' had not been in Tally Ho's vocabulary this many a day.
'Baddy tlain,' he said, '’t has runned away wid my's Kotah Lal,' forgetting, perchance, that it was Tally Ho that had first deserted the train, and not the train Tally Ho. 'My will catchee it!'
His small legs twinkled rapidly down the line of the train. But the train had the start, and was flourishing out of St James's Park Station at the one end as Tally Ho trotted into it at the other. He laboured up the steep incline on to the platform as the tail light was swallowed up in the opposite blackness. Tally Ho stopped, at a loss what to do.
'Velly baddy tlain,' he panted, 'my—' here a small mustard Dandie Dinmont sniffed at his legs. 'Oh! what a nice doggie!' said Tally Ho, with characteristic irrelevance, and stooped to pat it. A whistle sounded, the Dandie trotted away obediently, and Tally Ho trotted after in hot pursuit. The platform was disgorging a stream of passengers, and Tally Ho, his mind and eye fixed on the dog, passed the ticket collector, unchecked, at the skirt of a stout middle-aged female.
'Hi,' said the collector, 'hi, lydy,—ticket for the youngster, please.'
'What youngster?' said the indignant lady.
'That there youngster of yourn, in the holland breeks.'
The owner thereof was now well up the staircase, and twinkling over the bridge in pursuit of the Dandie.
'You impident person!' said the choleric dame, 'holland breeks indeed!'
'Now then, ma'am, don't you give me none of your bluff—Holland breeks it is, and a smudgy seat at that,—py up please, if you y'nt got no ticket.'
'But I tell you I haven't got any children; I'm a single woman; you must be intoxicated, collector.'
'Go it, breeks!' came a voice from the half-amused and half-impatient crowd.
'That'll do, ma'am, that'll do,' said the collector, majestically; 'your name and address, if you please.'
'Certainly,' bellowed the now infuriated female, 'certainly. Maria James, 4 Smith Square; and I'll take good care you're not a collector of this company for long. Holland breeks indeed!'
'You see,' mused the collector to the crowd, as he took the remaining tickets, 'it tykes 'em this w'y sometimes—these 'ere single femyles.'
Now in the meantime the 'disturber of traffic,' having said to himself, 'my wants to pat that doggie,' had to his great disgust only arrived at seeing the object of his desires lifted into a cab, and whirled from before his eyes, at the gates of St James's Park. This was enough to damp the spirits of a hero. Tally Ho entered the park with a momentarily dejected step, and wandered on to the bridge; but there his dejection ceased, for below him, swimming' in circles, in semi-circles, in parabolas, in zig-zags, were ducks—ducks more sleek and beautiful than any he had ever beheld, and fat—words could not describe the nature of their fatness. Tally Ho sank on his knees, stuck his head through the girders, and gazed. His affections particularly rivetted themselves on two small bronze-green ducks taking first lessons in diving from an attentive parent.
'My wantles dem,' said Tally Ho, joyfully and loudly, through the girders, to the intense astonishment of a military-looking old gentleman, from between whose legs the words arose.
'Gawd bless me! What's that?'
'My wantles 'oo for each of my's tlowser's pottets,' bellowed Tally Ho across the water to the ducks.
'Gawd bless me! It's the ducks the boy wants,' commented the ancient warrior, stepping with much care clear of Tally Ho, and noting the direction of his gestures. At this precise instant Tally Ho withdrew his head from between the girders and scrambled on to his feet, and as he did so his eye lighted on the stranger whose elderly but martial form he had been doing his level best to upset.
'Salaam, Genelal Sahib,' he said, saluting affably and without embarrassment, 'my is Tally Ho—my wantles dose ducks.'
The General saluted in turn, screwed a gold-rimmed eyeglass carefully into his eye, stroked his grizzled moustache, and gazed curiously at his interlocutor.
'Tan my have dose two nickle gleeny-blown ducks?' said Tally Ho, pointing into the water, and pulling abstractedly at the General's grey frock coat.
'’Tenshun,' said the latter, and Tally Ho dropped his hands mechanically to his side, and drew himself up with his feet at a correct 45 degrees. 'Now, then, what d'ye want the ducks for, heh?'
The 'heh' was rather alarming, but Tally Ho passed it by unconcernedly.
'Oos velly like my Daddy,' he remarked with condescension; 'but my wantles dose ducks to takle home in my's pottets,' he continued, reverting to business.
'Bless the boy! But you can't have those ducks; they belong to the Queen!'
'Dod bless her!' said Tally Ho, raising his hat abstractedly, for his attention had wandered to the stick with the skull handle in the General's hand. 'Velly plitty 'tick,' he murmured to himself, 'my will walkle wid 'oo, if 'oos not tired,' he added aloud considerately to the stranger.
'Gawd bless me!' said the dumfoundered General. 'He'd take command of a division for two pins! Gentleman though—Indian—know the breed. Wonder who he is—seems lost—never mind, take him along—pump him—no fool. Come along Mr—Tally Ho, Sir; eyes front, quick march.'
Tally Ho made one manful endeavour to compass the General's stride, and then relapsed philosophically into a regular two for one. He had quite forgotten the ducks, he wanted that stick so badly to carry over his shoulder like a rifle. After completing the length of the bridge, side by side with the General, and cogitating silently, Tally Ho saluted, and said:
'Ettafakhan de Genelal Sahib finds de 'tick velly heavy.'
'Gawd bless me! Persian! Very talented boy, great diplomatist—Ettafakhan,' he continued aloud to Tally Ho (the which is the Persian for 'peradventure'), and without another word transferred the stick to his small and grubby fist. The latter, too well bred to show the transports of joy swelling in his small bosom, halted, salaamed profoundly, and after hugging the stick, which was at least as tall as himself, heaved it over his shoulder, and marched manfully on. The General was an old man; he stooped slightly and walked slowly, and his eyes, that looked like those of an old dog, gazed curiously ever and anon from under his shaggy eyebrows at the small brown urchin tramping at his side. They reached the gates of the park before he had in the least made up his mind what course to pursue with this strange little mortal. As they were crossing the Mall towards St James's Palace, a new idea struck Tally Ho; he halted suddenly, stuck the stick into the ground, and leaning on it, looked around him with a self-satisfied air.
'My's losted,' he announced.
The General, in rapt amazement at the calmness of this remark, halted also, and a hansom, sweeping by, nearly ran over his toes, and knocked off Tally Ho's hat with the edge of its wheel.
'Damned scoundrels!' muttered the exasperated warrior below his breath, 'plucky boy, though—near thing.... All right, heh?'—this to Tally Ho, who was contemplating a large splash of mud on the crown of his hat.
'My's noo 'at!' he said, ruefully.
'Never mind your hat s'long's you're all right, heh? That's it! Come along.' A bright idea struck him. 'Are you hungry? Course he is, all boys hungry. Gawd bless me! what was I thinking of? Come and have some tiffin at my club, Mr—Tally Ho, sir.'
'Tank'oo, my will be deelighted, my's velly empty,' said Tally Ho, frankly and cheerfully.
'Course you are. Come along, sir, come along.'
As the oddly assorted couple took their way down Pall Mall, the passers-by turned to stare. The sentries at Marlborough House saluted—Tally Ho appropriated and returned the salutes with a pre-occupied air—he was thinking now of the General's white hat, and of how he desired it greatly to keep his mongoose 'Bengy' in—he was sure he had seen little windows in the top of it. 'Perhaps the Genelal Sahib will takle it off again, and sclatchle his head as Blown does sometimes, den my will see,' he reflected.
Now they had arrived at the corner of St James's Square, and the sweet-faced old sweeper at the crossing had made her double-barrelled bob to the sunburnt, white-haired veteran and the sun-browned, white-haired child. At the steps of a great service club the General halted, and took off his hat to mop his brow, for the day was hot, and his mind was perplexed.
'Yes, sir,' he said aloud to himself, 'boy's hungry—tiffin first, pump afterwards. Gawd bless me! What's that?' For Tally Ho, swelling with joy of verification, was threading his thumbs through the vent-holes of the white hat, and saying to himself with subdued emphasis:
'My will makle two mores, eke oper eke' (one upon the top of the other).
'Devil you will!' said the General, and feeling from the absorption of his guest's eye that no time was to be lost, he hastily replaced his hat, and extended two fingers to assist Tally Ho up the steps.
'No t'ank 'oo,' said the latter; 'my will runle up.' He proceeded to mount the stairs on all-fours, and sat on the top step at the feet of the hall porter, awaiting the arrival of his distinguished but disconcerted host.
'Gawd bless me! regular young budmâsh (rogue)—fine fellow, though—very fine fellow! Heh! Wilkins!' he said, with a perplexed twirl of his moustache, to the unmoved janitor.
'New member. General, or friend of yours only, sir? What name shall I enter, General?'
'This gentleman will tiffin with me, Wilkins. Name, heh! what?—Quite so. Mr—Tally Ho, sir,' he said, turning to Tally Ho, who with his hat off was examining the tape machine in the hall with an interested eye, 'the servant wishes to know your name, so that he may put it in the visitors' book. What shall I tell him?'
'Geoffley Standin' Blount,' returned Tally Ho. His knees were grubby, his hat was torn, his seat was dusty, but he looked very much of a gentleman.
'Mr Geoffrey Standing Blount, Wilkins,' said the General with dignity. The smile flickering into Wilkins' eye flickered out again, and he turned to the visitors' book. The General led the way to the lavatory past a group of younger men in the hall, who greeted him with respectful if amused recognition. Tally Ho, smiling affably, followed him. Arrived at the lavatory, he looked with a pleased anticipation at the row of basins, for though of tender years, soap and water were after his heart. He was feeling hot and dusty, the taps ran so nicely, and—that was all, alas!—impossible to reach those basins, those nicely flowing taps—so he stood in the middle and waited while the General washed, politely silent, but feeling his inches, or want of inches, keenly. At last he said, 'My's nickle, but my's growin'!' An apology for his host's want of thought was in the last words.
'Gawd bless me—boy's too small—can't reach—never thought of that—dear, dear!' He tugged at his moustache in great concern. 'Hi! you boot-boy,' he shouted, 'bring a chair, two chairs, help the gentleman up, hi! you fool, hold the slack of the gentleman's trousers, can't you, while he washes;' for Tally Ho in a transport of joy was taking a header into the basin. The remainder of his toilet was carefully attended to by the boot-boy, under the General's anxious supervision.
When it was completed, and Tally Ho was once more presentable, they ascended to the dining-room—Tally Ho for once on his two feet, and conducting himself with a vast propriety. It was a little after the ordinary luncheon hour when the General finally anchored his guest, contrary to all laws and precedents, in the club dining-room. An old crony of his was finishing his lunch in one of the windows; next to him the General, greatly in want of support, took his stand, and having caused his guest to be lifted into his seat, abstractedly handed him a menu card. Tally Ho perused it gravely after the manner of a man accustomed to these things, and handing it to the waiter, remarked:
'My will have cully and lice,'—he paused, debating gravely, 'and plummers,' he added, with a note of triumph in his voice.
The General twirled his moustache.
'Curry and rice for this gentleman, plums afterwards—fried sole for me. Boy of decision,' he continued, approvingly to himself. 'Knows his own mind.' He looked at the card. 'Gawd bless me! not on the menu, either of them—'course, can't read—how should he?—never mind, finer fellow than I thought—man of resource.' He turned to the crony. 'How do, Morant?' he said—'married man, just the man I want—stand by to support me, heh?' He nodded imperceptibly in the direction of Tally Ho.
'Certainly, my dear fellow,' said the intelligent crony, 'make me known.'
'Colonel Morant—Mr Geoffrey Standing Blount.'
Tally Ho, whose round blue eyes were fixed immovably on the face of the waiter, greatly to the discomfiture of that youthful but solemn personage, turned and twinkled friendlily at his new acquaintance, but his mind was too agitated by the question then troubling it for more than a passing attention to other matters.
'For why isn't he black?' he said in a loudly audible but awestricken whisper to the General, pointing with his chin at the unfortunate. 'My foughted all club waiters was black.'
'This is England, sir, not India; here they're red, you know,' said the General, blandly, with a chuckle. 'It's like lobsters, red in hot water; ain't it, Morant?'
His eyes followed the vanishing form of the young waiter flying to hide the blushes spreading over his disconcerted countenance.
'Oh!' said Tally Ho, polite but unconvinced.
'The point,' said the General, after a pause, turning to his supporter. 'The point is this—given small boy—gentleman—lost—name Geoffrey Standing Blount—new to England.'
'Dat's my,' said Tally Ho to himself softly in parenthesis.
'Guest of mine,' continued the General, 'don't want to pump him—point is, how to find his belongings, heh?' He wound up abruptly.
'Where was he met with?' said the crony. He was head of a county constabulary, and great on detective detail. 'The time and place?' Mechanically he took out a pocket-book.
'Ducks—St James's Park—one thirty.'
Tally Ho stared from one to the other; were they talking of him? He inclined to think so.
'My's losted,' he said to the crony; 'my's Daddy's Number One mud-and-water soldier in de Deyra Dhun.'
At this precise moment his curry arrived, and no further information did he volunteer, for, as he had remarked, he was 'velly empty.'
'I have it,' said the crony, 'waiter! fetch me an Army List. Number One mud-and-water soldier is pigeon-English for commanding engineer. Here you are,' he continued, triumphantly, 'R.E. Majors, Blount, F. Standing. India.'
'India,' said the General, 'hum. Large place—and this is England.'
'His bankers,' said the crony, 'probably Cox's; waiter, fetch me a commissionaire, we'll send him round and find out.'
'Bravo,' said the General, 'invaluable fellow, brilliant idea—that's it, young man,' he turned approvingly to Tally Ho, 'wire in.'
'Exkullent dood chow-chow, nearly as dood as Foo Ching's,' responded Tally Ho. He was again oblivious of the fact that he was in process of being found, and was devoting himself in the intervals of luncheon to smiling sweetly at the waiter, whose feelings he was innocently conscious had been in some sort wounded. 'Are 'oo feelin' all light again?' he said sympathetically, "oo 'tant help not bein' black, tan 'oo?'
The waiter cast one beseeching look around him, and fled precipitately, leaving a trail of blushes behind.
'Poor mans,' said Tally Ho, 'perwaps de big fire has strokled him; he is velly led, isn't he, Genelal Sahib?'
'All right, my boy, all right,' said the General, choking. He turned to the crony, who was smiling gravely. 'Wonderful boy,' he said, sotto voce, 'make fine soldier—splendid touch—considers feelings of his men.'
'Rather a curious way of doing so,' said the crony, glancing with a twinkle in his eye at the door through which the waiter had disappeared.
'All same—good intention,' said the General.
But Tally Ho had entirely forgotten waiter, lunch, and hosts, in the contemplation of a new problem connected with the giant fireplace, which was crammed with plants.
'It's all tommy lot,' he said abruptly to himself, climbing down from his chair and walking straight up to the fireplace. 'Kotah Lal said dere was allerways fires in Ingeliland, but dere isn't, and dere never wasn't, 'cos dese would be burntled.'
'Gawd bless me!' said the General, 'wonderful!—splendid soldier he'll make—good reasonin' power—fine forcible vocabulary.'
'I should apply for a commission for him to-morrow if I were you,' said the crony, drily.
'So I will,' said the General, 'hum—well—not quite yet—but keep my eye on him.'
Tally Ho came back to the table, and stood waiting at attention. The two men rose.
'Has 'oo finished?' said Tally Ho, 'tum along, my wantles my's cigar.'
'It seems that your protégé has his vices as well,' said the crony, as they went downstairs. In the hall the commissionaire handed him an address. He looked at it triumphantly. 'Major Blount's London reference,' he said.
'Capital,' said the General, 'I'll send round at once—sure to know all about him there.'
He did so, then ordered coffee and cigars, and settled himself and his guest in armchairs. Tally Ho's feet, when he sat back, just reached the edge of the chair.
'My's daddy,' he said, 'dives my one puffle of his cigars—Kotah Lal, my's sais, 'mokes, but my doesn't takle puffles from a sais,' he added, proudly.
The General twinkled all over his war-worn face, took his cigar from his mouth and handed it to Tally Ho. The latter grasped it gingerly between his small brown finger and thumb, and applied it to his mouth, which it completely filled. Holding it firmly, and sitting well back, with his chair tilted up, he took one long diligent draw, then with his cheeks puffed out he gave it solemnly back to the General. Slowly and rapturously he let the smoke escape, and watched it curl up to the ceiling in little puffs and rings. When it was all expended, he snuggled his small fair head back amongst the cushions.
'It allerways makles my sleepy,' he said apologetically, and his head was nodding already. 'Dood night, 'tank de Number One up aloft Sahib for my's goody day—but my wantled dose gleeny-blown ducks baddy.' Here he heaved a serene little sigh, and snuggled still further into the recesses of the chair. 'My's lost-ed,' he murmured contentedly, as his chin fell on to his chest, and he slept. A sunbeam flitted in through the blinds on to his dusty flaxen pate. The General leant forward.
'All serene, my young friend,' he said softly, 'before you wake again we'll have that careless beggar of a sais of yours by the heels, and you'll be "losted" no more. And mark my words, Morant,' he went on, flicking the ash off his cigar, 'when we're done for, and stacked with the majority, that tow-headed young budmâsh 'll be as great, ay, a greater soldier than either of us; we shan't know it—stacked, heh?—but the country will. One of us goes, but there's always another fellow ready to take his place, thank the Lord.'
'Eke oper eke,' muttered Tally Ho in his dreams.