Stories of Bengalee Life/The Forest Child/Chapter 2
CHAPTER II
On the next day Giribala gave the forest child a warm bath, took off his necklace, wrapped him in flannel and touched his eyes with black. Kumud Nath said his name was to remain Buno (Forester). Khoka now began to regard him as a fellow-creature,—hitherto he had shrunk from him as from some wild animal.
In the evening Jadu Babu was to come to dinner. He soon gave proof that vain boasting was not a habit with him. After dinner he said—"One day you will have to pay for having adopted that child."
Kumud Nath replied, with a laugh—"My dear sir, he is not a tiger-cub that he should, when grown, be unable to forget the habits of his race, and eat one up."
Jadu Babu did not answer immediately, but after a time he said, with a loud laugh—"Quite true, quite true; we'll see you make a man of him—don't coddle him."
The forest child played heartily all day, but at dawn next day his body was very hot—he had fever. The whole day he lay senseless. In the evening Kumud Nath brought a doctor, who said the cold had affected his lungs. During two days the usual remedies were applied, but the child did not recover. He died in Giribala's lap at 2 a.m. on the 29th December.
Giribala wept long. She said—"Alas! Whose child is it? It would have been better if we had not brought it. What a mistake! Why have we been deluded thus? What can we say to the mother if she comes?"
Khoka became sad at the loss of his companion. Perpetually he asked—"Where is Buno gone?"
The whole day was spent in grieving by the husband and wife. About nine in the evening, when, after his meal, Kumud was preparing to go to rest, the voice of the postman was heard below. He gave the letters to the servant and departed; the sound of his steps became inaudible.
Kumud Nath each moment expected the servant to come upstairs, letters in hand. But he came not. Kumud Nath opened the shutters with intent to call out to him, when, along with a very cold wind, an indistinct sound as of a great scuffle reached his ear. To learn what was going on, Kumud Nath descended with a lantern. He found his servant, Bisua, holding a beautiful young hill woman, with both his arms round her waist. With much exertion of force, she was striving to free herself. At sight of Kumud Nath she produced a kukri knife from the corner of her garment. Kumud Nath stepped back; the servant also let go the woman, who fled swiftly through the open door.
Bisua, much excited, exclaimed—"A thief, master!"
Kumud Nath, thinking him stupid, said—"If you had held both her hands, she could not have got the knife out."
"She is very strong in body, Sir. Had I not caught her that way, I could not have held her."
Anyhow Kumud thought, since the thief had been prevented from robbing, it was well she should escape. If they had held her they would have had to give her up to the police, with all the bother of a prosecution. He went upstairs and laid himself down. Giribala, when she heard the facts, said—"She was no thief; she was your servant's mistress. In fear of being caught she used her wits."
"Then why the knife?"
"Do you not know? It is customary with these hill women. They always have a knife about them."
The next morning Kumud Babu questioned his servant, but he denied any knowledge of the woman.