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双语·丛林故事 女王的仆役

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2023年01月01日

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Her Majesty's Servants

You can work it out by Fractions or by simple Rule of Three,

But the way of Tweedle-dum is not the way of Tweedle-dee.

You can twist it, you can turn it, you can plait it till you drop,

But the way of Pilly-Winky's not the way of Winkie-Pop!

It had been raining heavily for one whole month—raining on a camp of thirty thousand men, thousands of camels, elephants, horses, bullocks, and mules, all gathered together at a place called Rawalpindi, to be reviewed by the Viceroy of India. He was receiving a visit from the Amir of Afghanistan—a wild king of a very wild country; and the Amir had brought with him for a bodyguard eight hundred men and horses who had never seen a camp or a locomotive before in their lives—savage men and savage horses from somewhere at the back of Central Asia. Every night a mob of these horses would be sure to break their heel-ropes, and stampede up and down the camp through the mud in the dark, or the camels would break loose and run about and fall over the ropes of the tents, and you can imagine how pleasant that was for men trying to go to sleep. My tent lay far away from the camel-lines, and I thought it was safe; but one night a man popped his head in and shouted, “Get out, quick! They're coming! My tent's gone!”

I knew who “they” were; so I put on my boots and waterproof and scuttled out into the slush. Little Vixen, my fox-terrier, went out through the other side; and then there was a roaring and a grunting and bubbling, and I saw the tent cave in, as the pole snapped, and begin to dance about like a mad ghost. A camel had blundered into it, and wet and angry as I was, I could not help laughing. Then I ran on, because I did not know how many camels might have got loose, and before long I was out of sight of the camp, plouging my way through the mud.

At last I fell over the tail-end of a gun, and by that knew I was somewhere near the Artillery lines where the cannon were stacked at night. As I did not want to plowter about any more in the drizzle and the dark, I put my waterproof over the muzzle of one gun, and made a sort of wigwam with two or three rammers that I found, and lay along the tail of another gun, wondering where Vixen had got to, and where I might be.

Just as I was getting ready to sleep I heard a jingle of harness and a grunt, and a mule passed me shaking his wet ears. He belonged to a screwgun battery, for I could hear the rattle of the straps and rings and chains and things on his saddle-pad. The screw-guns are tiny little cannon made in two pieces that are screwed together when the time comes to use them. They are taken up mountains, anywhere that a mule can find a road, and they are very useful for fighting in rocky country.

Behind the mule there was a camel, with his big soft feet squelching and slipping in the mud, and his neck bobbing to and fro like a strayed hen's. Luckily, I knew enough of beast language—not wild-beast language, but camp-beast language, of course—from the natives to know what he was saying.

He must have been the one that flopped into my tent, for he called to the mule, “What shall I do? Where shall I go? I have fought with a white thing that waved, and it took a stick and hit me on the neck. (That was my broken tentpole, and I was very glad to know it.) Shall we run on?”

“Oh, it was you,” said the mule, “you and your friends, that have been disturbing the camp? All right. You'll be beaten for this in the morning; but I may as well give you something on account now.”

I heard the harness jingle as the mule backed and caught the camel two kicks in the ribs that rang like a drum. “Another time,” he said, “you'll know better than to run through a mule-battery at night, shouting ‘Thieves and fire!’ Sit down, and keep your silly neck quiet.”

The camel doubled up camel-fashion, like a two-foot rule, and sat down whimpering. There was a regular beat of hoofs in the darkness, and a big troop-horse cantered up as steadily as though he were on parade, jumped a gun-tail, and landed close to the mule.

“It's disgraceful,” he said, blowing out his nostrils. “Those camels have racketed through our lines again—the third time this week. How's a horse to keep his condition if he isn't allowed to sleep. Who's here?”

“I'm the breech-piece mule of Number Two gun of the First Screw Battery,” said the mule, “and the other's one of your friends. He's waked me up too. Who are you?”

“Number Fifteen, E troop, Ninth Lancers—Dick Cunliffe's horse. Stand over a little, there.”

“Oh, beg your pardon,” said the mule. “It's too dark to see much. Aren't these camels too sickening for anything? I walked out of my lines to get a little peace and quiet here.”

“My lords,” said the camel humbly, “we dreamed bad dreams in the night, and we were very much afraid. I am only a baggage-camel of the 39th Native Infantry, and I am not so brave as you are, my lords.”

“Then why the pickets didn't you stay and carry baggage for the 39th Native Infantry, instead of running all round the camp?” said the mule.

“They were such very bad dreams,” said the camel. “I am sorry. Listen! What is that? Shall we run on again?”

“Sit down,” said the mule, “or you'll snap your long legs between the guns.” He cocked one ear and listened. “Bullocks!” he said. “Gun-bullocks. On my word, you and your friends have waked the camp very thoroughly. It takes a good deal of prodding to put up a gun-bullock.”

I heard a chain dragging along the ground, and a yoke of the great sulky white bullocks that drag the heavy siege-guns when the elephants won't go any nearer to the firing, came shouldering along together; and almost stepping on the chain was another battery-mule, calling wildly for “Billy.”

“That's one of our recruits,” said the old mule to the troop-horse. “He's calling for me. Here, youngster, stop squealing. The dark never hurt anybody yet.”

The gun-bullocks lay down together and began chewing the cud, but the young mule huddled close to Billy.

“Things!” he said. “Fearful and horrible things, Billy! They came into our lines while we were asleep. D’you think they'll kill us?”

“I've a great mind to give you a number-one kicking,” said Billy. “The idea of a fourteen-hand mule with your training disgracing the battery before this gentleman!”

“Gently, gently!” said the troop-horse. “Remember they are always like this to begin with. The first time I ever saw a man (it was in Australia when I was a three-year-old) I ran for half a day, and if I'd seen a camel I should have been running still.”

Nearly all our horses for the English cavalry are brought to India from Australia, and are broken in by the troopers themselves.

“True enough,” said Billy. “Stop shaking, youngster. The first time they put the full harness with all its chains on my back, I stood on my forelegs and kicked every bit of it off. I hadn't learned the real science of kicking then, but the battery said they had never seen anything like it.”

“But this wasn't harness or anything that jingled,” said the young mule. “You know I don't mind that now, Billy. It was Things like trees, and they fell up and down the lines and bubbled; and my head-rope broke, and I couldn't find my driver, and I couldn't find you, Billy, so I ran off with—with thes gentlemen.”

“H'm!” said Billy. “As soon as I heard the camels were loose I came away on my own account, quietly. When a battery—a screw-gun mule calls gun-bullocks gentlemen, he must be very badly shaken up. Who are you fellows on the ground there?”

The gun-bullocks rolled their cuds, and answered both together: “The seventh yoke of the first gun of the Big Gun Battery. We were asleep when the camels came, but when we were trampled on we got up and walked away. It is better to lie quiet in the mud than to be disturbed on good bedding. We told your friend here that there was nothing to be afraid of, but he knew so much that he thought otherwise. Wah!”

They went on chewing.

“That comes of being afraid,” said Billy. “You get laughed at by gun-bullocks. I hope you like it, young un.”

The young mule's teeth snapped, and I heard him say something about not being afraid of any beefy old bullock in the world; but the bullocks only clicked their horns together and went on chewing.

“Now, don't be angry after you've been afraid. That's the worst kind of cowardice,” said the troop-horse. “Anybody can be forgiven for being scared in the night, I think, if they see things they don't understand. We've broken out of our pickets, again and again, four hundred and fifty of us, just because a new recruit got to telling tales of whip-snakes at home in Australia till we were scared to death of the loose ends of our head-ropes.”

“That's all very well in camp,” said Billy. “I'm not above stampeding myself, for the fun of the thing, when I haven't been out for a day or two; but what do you do on active service?”

“Oh, that's quite another set of new shoes,” said the troop-horse. “Dick Cunliffe's on my back then, and drives his knees into me, and all I have to do is to watch where I am putting my feet and to keep my hind legs well under me, and be bridle-wise.”

“What's bridle-wise?” said the young mule.

“By the Blue Gums of the Back Blocks,” snorted the troop-horse, “do you mean to say that you aren't taught to be bridle-wise in your business? How can you do anything, unless you can spin round at once when the rein is pressed on your neck? It means life or death to your man, and of course that's life or death to you. Get round with your hind legs under you the instant you feel the rein on your neck. If you haven't room to swing round, rear up a little and come round on your hind legs. That's being bridlewise.”

“We aren't taught that way,” said Billy the mule stiffly. “We're taught to obey the man at our head: step off when he says so, and step in when he says so. I suppose it comes to the same thing. Now, with all this fine fancy business and rearing, which must be very bad for your hocks, what do you do?”

“That depends,” said the troop-horse. “Generally I have to go in among a lot of yelling, hairy men with knives—long shiny knives, worse than the farrier's knives—and I have to take care that Dick's boot is just touching the next man's boot without crushing it. I can see Dick's lance to the right of my right eye, and I know I'm safe. I shouldn't care to be the man or horse that stood up to Dick and me when we're in a hurry.”

“Don't the knives hurt?” said the young mule.

“Well, I got one cut across the chest once, but that wasn't Dick's fault—”

“A lot I should have cared whose fault it was, if it hurt!” said the young mule.

“You must,” said the troop-horse. “If you don't trust your man, you may as well run away at once. That's what some of our horses do, and I don't blame them. As I was saying, it wasn't Dick's fault. The man was lying on the ground, and I stretched myself not to tread on him, and he slashed up at me. Next time I have to go over a man lying down I shall step on him—hard.”

“H'm!” said Billy; “it sounds very foolish. Knives are dirty things at any time. The proper thing to do is to climb up a mountain with a well-balanced saddle, hang on by all four feet and your ears too, and creep and crawl and wriggle along, till you come out hundreds of feet above anyone else, on a ledge where there's just room enough for your hoofs. Then you stand still and keep quiet—never ask a man to hold your head, young un—keep quiet while the guns are being put together, and then you watch the little poppy shells drop down into the tree-tops ever so far below.”

“Don't you ever trip?” said the troop-horse.

“They say that when a mule trips you can split a hen's ear,” said Billy. “Now and again per-haps a badly packed saddle will upset a mule, but it's very seldom. I wish I could show you our business. It's beautiful. Why, it took me three years to find out what the men were driving at. The science of the thing is never to show up against the skyline, because, if you do, you may get fired at. Remember that, young un. Always keep hidden as much as possible,even if you have to go a mile out of your way. I lead the battery when it comes to that sort of climbing.”

“Fired at without the chance of running into the people who are firing!” said the troop-horse, thinking hard. “I couldn't stand that. I should want to charge, with Dick.”

“Oh, no, you wouldn't; you know that as soon as the guns are in position they'll do all the charging. That's scientific and neat; but knives—pah!”

The baggage-camel had been bobbing his head to and fro for some time past, anxious to get a word in edgeways. Then I heard him say, as he cleared his throat, nervously—

“I—I—I have fought a little, but not in that climbing way or that running way.”

“No. Now you mention it,” said Billy, “you don't look as though you were made for climbing or running—much. Well, how was it, old Haybales?”

“The proper way,” said the camel. “We all sat down—”

“Oh, my crupper and breastplate!” said the troop-horse under his breath. “Sat down?”

“We sat down—a hundred of us,” the camel went on, “in a big square, and the men piled our packs and saddles outside the square, and they fired over our backs, the men did, on all sides of the square.”

“What sort of men? Any men that came along?” said the troop-horse. “They teach us in riding-school to lie down and let our masters fire across us,but Dick Cunliffe is the only man I'd trust to do that. It tickles my girths, and, besides, I can't see with my head on the ground.”

“What does it matter who fires across you?” said the camel. “There are plenty of men and plenty of other camels close by, and a great many clouds of smoke. I am not frightened then. I sit still and wait.”

“And yet,” said Billy, “you dream bad dreams and upset the camp at night. Well, well! Before I'd lie down, not to speak of sitting down, and let a man fire across me, my heels and his head would have something to say to each other. Did you ever hear anything so awful as that?”

There was a long silence, and then one of the gun-bullocks lifted up his big head and said, “This is very foolish indeed. There is only one way of fighting.”

“Oh, go on,” said Billy. “Please don't mind me. I suppose you fellows fight standing on your tails?”

“Only one way,” said the two together. (They must have been twins.) “This is that way. To put all twenty yoke of us to the big gun as soon as Two Tails trumpets.” (“Two Tails” is camp slang for the elephant.)

“What does Two Tails trumpet for?” said the young mule.

“To show that he is not going any nearer to the smoke on the other side. Two Tails is a great coward. Then we tug the big gun all together—Heya—Hullah! Heeyah! Hullah! We do not climb like cats nor run like calves. We go across the level plain, twenty yoke of us, till we are unyoked again, and we graze while the big guns talk across the plain to some town with mud walls, and pieces of the wall fall out, and the dust goes up as though many cattle were coming home.”

“Oh! And you choose that time for grazing, do you?” said the young mule.

“That time or any other. Eating is always good. We eat till we are yoked up again and tug the gun back to where Two Tails is waiting for it. Sometimes there are big guns in the city that speak back, and some of us are killed, and then there is all the more grazing for those that are left. This is Fate-nothing but Fate. None the less, Two Tails is a great coward. That is the proper way to fight. We are brothers from Hapur. Our father was a sacred bull of Shiva. We have spoken.”

“Well, I've certainly learned something tonight,” said the troop-horse. “Do you gentlemen of the screw-gun battery feel inclined to eat when you are being fired at with big guns, and Two Tails is behind you?”

“About as much as we feel inclined to sit down and let men sprawl all over us, or run into people with knives. I never heard such stuff. A mountain ledge, a well-balanced load, a driver you can trust to let you pick your own way, and I'm your mule; but the other things—no!” said Billy, with a stamp of his foot.

“Of course,” said the troop-horse, “everyone is not made in the same way, and I can quite see that your family, on your father's side, would fail to understand a great many things.”

“Never you mind my family on my father's side,” said Billy angrily, for every mule hates to be reminded that his father was a donkey. “My father was a Southern gentleman, and he could pull down and bite and kick into rags every horse he came across. Remember that, you big brown Brumby!”

Brumby means wild horse without any breeding. Imagine the feelings of Sunol if a car-horse called her a “skate,” and you can imagine how the Australian horse felt. I saw the white of his eye glitter in the dark.

“See here, you son of an imported Malaga jackass,” he said between his teeth, “I'd have you know that I'm related on my mother's side to Carbine, winner of the Melbourne Cup; and where I come from we aren't accustomed to being ridden over roughshod by any parrot-mouthed, pig-headed mule in a pop-gun pea-shooter battery. Are you ready?”

“On your hind legs!” squealed Billy. They both reared up facing each other, and I was expecting a furious fight, when a gurgly, rumbly voice called out of the darkness to the right. “Children, what are you fighting about there? Be quiet.”

Both beasts dropped down with a snort of disgust, for neither horse nor mule can bear to listen to an elephant's voice.

“It's Two Tails!” said the troop-horse. “I can't stand him. A tail at each end isn't fair!”

“My feelings exactly,” said Billy, crowding into the troop-horse for company. “We're very alike in some things.”

“I suppose we've inherited them from our mothers,” said the troop-horse. “It's not worth quarreling about. Hi! Two Tails, are you tied up?”

“Yes,” said Two Tails, with a laugh all up his trunk. “I'm picketed for the night. I've heard what you fellows have been saying. But don't be afraid. I'm not coming over.”

The bullocks and the camel said, half aloud, “Afraid of Two Tails—what nonsense!” And the bullocks went on. “We are sorry that you heard, but it is true. Two Tails, why are you afraid of the guns when they fire?”

“Well,” said Two Tails, rubbing one hind leg against the other, exactly like a little boy saying a poetry, “I don't quite know whether you'd understand.”

“We don't, but we have to pull the guns,” said the bullocks.

“I know it, and I know you are a good deal braver than you think you are. But it's different with me. My battery captain called me a Pachydermatous Anachronism the other day.”

“That's another way of fighting, I suppose?” said Billy, who was recovering his spirits.

“You don't know what that means, of course, but I do. It means betwixt and between, and that is just where I am. I can see inside my head what will happen when a shell bursts; and you bullocks can't.”

“I can,” said the troop-horse. “At least a little bit. I try not to think about it.”

“I can see more than you, and I do think about it. I know there's a great deal of me to take care of, and I know that nobody knows how to cure me when I'm sick. All they can do is to stop my driver's pay till I get well, and I can't trust my driver.”

“Ah!” said the troop-horse. “That explains it. I can trust Dick.”

“You could put a whole regiment of Dicks on my back without making me feel any better. I know just enough to be uncomfortable, and not enough to go on in spite of it.”

“We do not understand,” said the bullocks.

“I know you don't. I'm not talking to you. You don't know what blood is.”

“We do,” said the bullocks. “It is red stuff that soaks into the ground and smells.”

The troop-horse gave a kick and a bound and a snort.

“Don't talk of it,” he said. “I can smell it now, just thinking of it. It makes me want to run—when I haven't Dick on my back.”

“But it is not here,” said the camel and the bullocks. “Why are you so stupid?”

“It's vile stuff,” said Billy. “I don't want to run, but I don't want to talk about it.”

“There you are!” said Two Tails, waving his tail to explain.

“Surely. Yes, we have been here all night,” said the bullocks.

Two Tails stamped his foot till the iron ring on it jingled. “Oh, I'm not talking to you. You can't see inside your heads.”

“No. We see out of our four eyes,” said the bullocks. “We see straight in front of us.”

“If I could do that and nothing else you wouldn't be needed to pull the big guns at all. If I was like my captain—he can see things inside his head before the firing begins, and he shakes all over, but he knows too much to run away—if I was like him I could pull the guns. But if I were as wise as all that I should never be here. I should be a king in the forest, as I used to be, sleeping half the day and bathing when I liked. I haven't had a good bath for a month.”

“That's all very fine,” said Billy; “but giving a thing a long name doesn't make it any better.”

“H'sh!” said the troop-horse. “I think I understand what Two Tails means.”

“You'll understand better in a minute,” said Two Tails angrily. “Now, you explain to me why you don't like this!”

He began trumpeting furiously at the top of his trumpet.

“Stop that!” said Billy and the troop-horse together, and I could hear them stamp and shiver. An elephant's trumpeting is always nasty, especially on a dark night.

“I shan't stop,” said Two Tails. “Won't you explain that, please? Hhrrmph! Rrrt! Rrrmph! Rrrhha!” Then he stopped suddenly, and I heard a little whimper in the dark, and knew that Vixen had found me at last. She knew as well as I did that if there is one thing in the world the elephant is more afraid of than another, it is a little barking dog; so she stopped to bully Two Tails in his pickets, and yapped round his big feet. Two Tails shuffled and squeaked. “Go away, little dog!” he said. “Don't snuff at my ankles, or I'll kick at you. Good little dog—nice little doggie, then! Go home, you yelping little beast! Oh, why doesn't someone take her away? She'll bite me in a minute.”

“Seems to me,” said Billy to the troop-horse, “that our friend Two Tails is afraid of most things. Now, if I had a full meal for every dog I've kicked across the parade-ground, I should be nearly as fat as Two Tails.”

I whistled, and Vixen ran up to me, muddy all over, and licked my nose, and told me a long tale about hunting for me all through the camp. I never let her know that I understood beast talk, or she would have taken all sorts of liberties. So I buttoned her into the breast of my overcoat, and Two Tails shuffled and stamped and growled to himself.

“Extraordinary! Most extraordinary!” he said. “It runs in our family. Now, where has that nasty little beast gone to?”

I heard him feeling about with his trunk.

“We all seem to be affected in various ways,” he went on, blowing his nose. “Now, you gentlemen were alarmed, I believe, when I trumpeted.”

“Not alarmed, exactly,” said the troop-horse, “but it made me feel as though I had hornets where my saddle ought to be. Don't begin again.”

“I'm frightened of a little dog, and the camel here is frightened by bad dreams in the night.”

“It is very lucky for us that we haven't all got to fight in the same way,” said the troop-horse.

“What I want to know,” said the young mule, who had been quiet for a long time—“what I want to know is, why we have to fight at all.

“Because we're told to,” said the troop-horse, with a snort of contempt.

“Orders,” said Billy the mule; and his teeth snapped.

“Hukm hai! [It is an order],” said the camel with a gurgle; and Two Tails and the bullocks repeated, “Hukm hai!”

“Yes, but who gives the orders?” said the recruit-mule.

“The man who walks at your head—Or sits on your back—Or holds your nose-rope—Or twists your tail,” said Billy and the troop-horse and the camel and the bullocks one after the other.

“But who gives them the orders?”

“Now you want to know too much, young un,” said Billy, “and that is one way of getting kicked. All you have to do is to obey the man at your head and ask no questions.”

“He's quite right,” said Two Tails. “I can't always obey, because I'm betwixt and between; but Billy's right. Obey the man next to you who gives the order, or you'll stop all the battery, besides getting a thrashing.”

The gun-bullocks got up to go. “Morning is coming,” they said. “We will go back to our lines. It is true that we see only out of our eyes, and we are not very clever; but still, we are the only people tonight who have not been afraid. Good-night, you brave people.”

Nobody answered, and the troop-horse said, to change the conversation, “Where's that little dog? A dog means a man somewhere about.”

“Here I am,” yapped Vixen, “under the guntail with my man. You big, blundering beast of a camel, you, you upset our tent. My man's very angry.”

“Phew!” said the bullocks. “He must be white!”

“Of course he is,” said Vixen. “Do you suppose I'm looked after by a black bullock-driver?”

“Huah! Ouach! Ugh!” said the bullocks. “Let us get away quickly.”

They plunged forward in the mud, and managed somehow to run their yoke on the pole of an ammunition-wagon, where it jammed.

“Now you have done it,” said Billy calmly. “Don't struggle. You're hung up till daylight. What on earth's the matter?”

The bullocks went off into the long, hissing snorts that Indian cattle give, and pushed and crowded and slued and stamped and slipped and nearly fell down in the mud, grunting savagely.

“You'll break your necks in a minute,” said the troop-horse. “What's the matter with white men? I live with 'em.”

“They—eat—us! Pull!” said the near bullock: the yoke snapped with a twang, and they lumbered off together.

I never knew before what made Indian cattle so scared of Englishmen. We eat beef—a thing that no cattle-driver touches—and of course the cattle do not like it.

“May I be flogged with my own pad-chains! Who'd have thought of two big lumps like those losing their heads?” said Billy.

“Never mind. I'm going to look at this man. Most of the white men, I know, have things in their pockets,” said the troop-horse.

“I'll leave you, then. I can't say I'm overfond of 'em myself. Besides, white men who haven't a place to sleep in are more than likely to be thieves, and I've a good deal of Government property on my back. Come along, young un, and we'll go back to our lines. Good-night, Australia! See you on parade tomorrow, I suppose. Good-night old Hay-bale!—try to control your feelings, won't you? Good-night, Two Tails! If you pass us on the ground tomorrow, don't trumpet. It spoils our formation.”

Billy the Mule stumped off with the swaggering limp of an old campaigner, as the troop-horse's head came nuzzling into my breast, and I gave him biscuits; while Vixen, who is a most conceited little dog, told him fibs about the scores of horses that she and I kept.

“I'm coming to the parade tomorrow in my dog-cart,” she said. “Where will you be?”

“On the left hand of the second squadron. I set the time for all my troop, little lady,” he said politely. “Now I must go back to Dick. My tail's all muddy, and he'll have two hours’ hard work dressing me for parade.”

The big parade of all the thirty thousand men was held that afternoon, and Vixen and I had a good place close to the Viceroy and the Amir of Afghanistan, with his high, big black hat of astrakhan wool and the great diamond star in the centre. The first part of the review was all sunshine, and the regiments went by in wave upon wave of legs all moving together, and guns all in a line, till our eyes grew dizzy. Then the cavalry came up, to the beautiful cavalry canter of “Bonnie Dundee,” and Vixen cocked her ear where she sat on the dog-cart. The second squadron of the Lancers shot by, and there was the troop-horse, with his tail like spun silk, his head pulled into his breast, one ear forward and one back, setting the time for all his squadron, his legs going as smoothly as waltz-music. Then the big guns came by, and I saw Two Tails and two other elephants harnessed in line to a forty-pounder siege-gun, while twenty yoke of oxen walked behind. The seventh pair had a new yoke, and they looked rather stiff and tired. Last came the screw-guns, and Billy the mule carried himself as though he commanded all the troops, and his harness was oiled and polished till it winked. I gave a cheer all by myself for Billy the mule, but he never looked right or left.

The rain began to fall again, and for a while it was too misty to see what the troops were doing. They had made a big half-circle across the plain, and were spreading out into a line. That line grew and grew and grew till it was three-quarters of a mile long from wing to wing—one solid wall of men, horses, and guns. Then it came on straight toward the Viceroy and the Amir, and as it got nearer the ground began to shake, like the deck of a steamer when the engines are going fast.

Unless you have been there you cannot imagine what a frightening effect this steady come-down of troops has on the spectators, even when they know it is only a review. I looked at the Amir. Up till then he had not shown the shadow of a sign of astonishment or anything else; but now his eyes began to get bigger and bigger, and he picked up the reins on his horse's neck and looked behind him. For a minute it seemed as though he were going to draw his sword and slash his way out through the English men and women in the carriages at the back. Then the advance stopped dead, the ground stood still, the whole line saluted, and thirty bands began to play all together. That was the end of the review, and the regiments went off to their camps in the rain; and an infantry band struck up—

The animals went in two by two,

  Hurrah!

The animals went in two by two,

  The elephant and the battery mul',

and they all got into the Ark

  For to get out of the rain!

Then I heard an old grizzled, long-haired Central Asian chief, who had come down with the Amir, asking questions of a native officer.

“Now,” said he, “in what manner was this wonderful thing done?”

And the officer answered, “There was on order, and they obeyed.”

“But are the beasts as wise as the men?” said the chief.

“They obey, as the men do. Mule, horse, elephant, or bullock, he obeys his driver, and the driver his sergeant, and the sergeant his lieutenant, and the lieutenant his captain, and the captain his major, and the major his colonel, and the colonel his brigadier commanding three regiments, and the brigadier his general, who obeys the Viceroy, who is the servant of the Empress. Thus it is done.”

“Would it were so in Afghanistan!” said the chief; “for there we obey only our own wills.”

“And for that reason,” said the native officer, twirling his mustache, “your Amir whom you do not obey must come here and take orders from our Viceroy.”

女王的仆役

你可以用分数或三分律算出它,

但退德尔旦的办法不等于退德尔迪的办法。

你可以拧它,你可以绕它,你可以辫它,直到你拉倒,

但皮利-温吉的绝招不等于温吉-波普的绝招!

大雨整整下了一个月——下在一座军营里,全营三万军人,数千骆驼、大象、战马、犍牛、骡子统统聚集在一个名叫拉瓦尔品第的地方,准备接受印度总督的检阅。总督正在接待阿富汗埃米尔的一次来访。这是一个狂野国家的狂野国王,这位埃米尔带来一支八百骑兵组成的卫队,他们一辈子都没见过军营,没见过火车——全是些从中亚细亚背后什么地方来的野人野马。每天夜里,这样的一群野马肯定会扯断它们的绊脚绳,在军营黑乎乎的泥地里东奔西窜,要么骆驼就会挣脱乱跑,被绷帐篷的绳子绊倒。你可以想象对于要睡觉的士兵来说,这是件多么叫他们哭笑不得的事儿。我的帐篷离骆驼队很远,所以自认为平安无事,但是一天夜里一个人把脑袋伸进来喊道:“快出来!他们来啦!我们的帐篷不见啦!”

我知道“他们”是谁,于是我穿上靴子和雨衣,急忙跑到泥地里。我的狐犬“小雌狐”从帐篷另一边跑出来,接着就是一阵吼叫,一阵呼噜和哼哧,我看见杆子断了,帐篷塌了进去,开始像疯鬼一样狂舞。一头骆驼闯进去了,我全身湿了,一肚子的气,却憋不住哈哈大笑起来。然后我继续跑,因为我不知道到底有多少骆驼挣脱了,我在泥里跌跌撞撞,没过多久,连军营也看不见了。

后来,我跌了一跤,原来是一门大炮把我绊倒了,于是我知道我是在炮兵队附近的什么地方了,因为大炮夜里都摆放在那里。我不想淋雨摸黑四处踅摸,便把雨衣搭在一门大炮的炮口上,又找了两三根桶条把雨衣一撑做了个简易遮篷,随后就在另一门大炮的炮尾旁躺下来,心里直纳闷小雌狐去了哪里,我到底身在何处。

正当我准备睡觉的时候,听见挽具叮当作响,同时听到了一声哼哼,接着一头骡子摇晃着湿淋淋的耳朵从我身旁经过。他属于一个螺旋炮连,因为我能听见带儿、环儿、链儿,以及他的鞍垫上的东西的嘎啦声。螺旋炮是种小炮,分两部分,使用的时候用螺丝拧到一起。可以把它们运上高山,只要骡子有路可寻,想驮到哪里就驮到哪里,所以它们在岩石嶙峋的山地作战非常顶用。

骡子后面是一头骆驼,他的又大又软的蹄子在泥水里吧唧吧唧,总是打滑,他的脖子一抻一抻的,活像一只走失的母鸡的脖子。幸好我懂不少兽语——不是野兽语,而是军畜语,当然,是从当地人那里弄明白的——知道他在说什么。

他肯定就是那头闯进我的帐篷的骆驼,因为他冲着那头骡子叫道:“我该怎么办?我该去哪儿?我跟一个飘舞的白东西干过仗,它拿起一根棍子打我的脖子。(就是我那根折断了的帐篷杆,知道原来是这样,我倒十分高兴。)我们还要往前跑吗?”

“噢,原来是你呀,”骡子说,“把军营搅了个天翻地覆的原来是你和你的哥儿们?好啦,早晚你会挨揍的,现在我不妨先给你点儿苦头尝尝。”

我听见挽具叮当作响,骡子向后一退,在骆驼的肋条上踢了两蹄子,听上去像是在敲鼓。“下一回呀,”他说,“你可要长见识了,再不能夜里闯到骡子炮队里乱喊‘有贼,开枪!’蹲下,把你的傻脖子放老实点儿。”

骆驼按骆驼特有的方式像一把双脚尺那样躬下身子,哀声哀气地蹲了下来。黑暗中响起了一阵节奏分明的蹄声,一匹大军马慢跑过来,他步伐稳健,仿佛在受检阅一般,然后从一个炮尾上一跃而过,落地站到骡子跟前。

“丢脸啊,”他说,鼻孔里直喷着气息,“这些骆驼又把我们的队伍搅了个地覆天翻——一个星期连着闹了三次。不许一匹马睡觉,他怎么能精力旺盛呢?谁在这里?”

“我是第一螺旋炮队二号炮的后膛驮骡,”骡子说,“那一个是你的朋友,他也把我惊醒了。你是谁?”

“第九长矛轻骑兵E队十五号——狄克·康利夫的战马。靠边站一站。”

“噢,对不起,”骡子说,“天太黑,看不清。这些骆驼是不是太可憎了?我走出队列只是想在这里清静清静。”

“我的爷儿们,”骆驼低声下气地说,“我们夜里做噩梦,很害怕。我只不过是第39本地步兵团的一头辎重驼,我可不像你们那么勇敢,我的爷儿们。”

“那你干吗不乖乖地待着,替39本地步兵团驮辎重,却在军营里乱跑?”骡子说。

“噩梦太可怕了,”骆驼说,“对不起,听!那是什么?我们要不要再往前跑?”

“蹲下,”骡子说,“要不你就会在大炮中间折断你的长腿。”他竖起一只耳朵听着。“犍牛!”他说,“拖炮的犍牛。我敢打包票,你和你的哥儿们已经把军营彻底吵醒了。要惊动一头拖炮的犍牛,可要戳捣半天的。”

我听见一条链子拖在地上的声音,一对气哼哼的白色大犍牛肩并肩走了过来,在大象不肯靠近火线的时候,就专门用他们拖攻城加农炮。差点儿踩在链子上的是另一头炮骡,他野声野气地叫着“比利”。

“那是我们的一个新兵。”老骡子对战马说,“他在喊我呢,在这里呢,小鬼,别嚷啦,黑暗从来伤不着谁的。”

拖炮犍牛一起卧下,开始反刍,可小骡子却凑到比利跟前来。

“好家伙!”他说,“吓人倒怪的家伙,比利!我们正在睡觉,他们就闯进了我们的队伍。你认为他们会不会要我们的命?”

“我真恨不得狠狠踢你一脚,”比利说,“一想到像你这样的一头骡子,受过训练,长到十四手宽的个头,竟然在这位大爷前丢尽了炮队的脸!”

“轻点,轻点!”战马说,“记住,一开头他们总是这个样子。我头一回看见了一个人(我三岁时在澳大利亚),我便跑了半天,要是我看见一头骆驼,保不齐我会一直跑到现在。”

英国骑兵的战马几乎都是从澳大利亚运到印度的,并且由骑兵自己调教。

“说得对,”比利说,“别哆嗦了,小鬼,头一回他们在我背上套上满是链子的挽具时,我尥了个蹶子把它抖了个精光。当时我还没有学会踢的真本事,可炮队都说他们从来没有见过这样的表现。”

“可这不是挽具,也不是叮当作响的任何东西,”小骡子说,“你知道现在我也无所谓了,比利。那些家伙像树一样,它们在队伍里忽起忽落,呼哧呼哧,于是我的套头索断了,我找不到赶我的人,我找不到你,比利,所以,我就跟这些爷儿们跑了。”

“哼!”比利说,“我一听见骆驼松开,自个儿就不声不响地跑了。当一个炮队——一头螺旋炮骡子管拖炮犍牛叫爷的时候,他准是被震惊了,地上卧的伙计,你们都是谁呀?”

拖炮犍牛滚动着他们的反刍物,齐声回答:“大炮连一号炮第七对。我们正在睡觉,骆驼来了,把我们踩了以后,我们才站起来走开了。安安静静地卧在泥里,总比待在舒服的垫草上受搅扰强。我们告诉你这里的那位哥儿们,没有什么好害怕的,可他见识广,并不这么想。哞!”

他们继续嚼。

“原来害怕的就是这个,”比利说,“你可让拖炮犍牛笑话了。我希望你听了开心,尕的个。”

小骡子磕了一下牙,我听见他说什么了。他才压根儿不怕什么蠢笨的老犍牛呢。但犍牛只是相互碰了碰角,继续嚼。

“喏,害怕过后,也甭生气。那才是天下最孬的胆小鬼呢。”战马说,“谁夜里受了惊吓,都会被原谅的,我想,如果他们看见了自己弄不懂的东西的话。我们一次又一次地冲破了栅栏,四百五十个伙计呢,仅仅是因为一个愣头青讲了一番在澳大利亚家里的鞭蛇的故事,最后我们看见自己头绳上松开的绳头也吓得要死。”

“这在军营里倒没有什么,”比利说,“我自己一两天没有出去的时候,就是为了开开心,也要惊跑一阵子。不过你的现役工作是什么?”

“哦,这完全是两码事,”战马说,“我是狄克·康利夫的坐骑,他用两个膝盖狠狠地夹住我,我的全部任务就是看在哪里搁脚,关照好身子下面的两条后腿。一切行动听缰绳指挥。”

“什么是一切行动听缰绳指挥?”小骡子说。

“背乡僻壤的蓝桉树哟!”战马喷着鼻息说,“你的意思是说,你做事还没有学会一切行动听缰绳指挥?如果缰绳贴在你的脖子上,你不立马转过身,你怎么做事情呢?对你的主人可是生死攸关的事情,当然也关系到你的生死存亡。一旦你感觉到缰绳贴在你的脖子上,你身子下面的后腿就得立马转过去。要是没有打转身的地方,就后腿立地,身子稍稍仰起转过去。这就叫一切行动听缰绳指挥。”

“我们没有受过这样的调教,”骡子比利语气生硬地说,“给我们教的是听从脑袋旁边的人的指挥。他说往外走,你就往外走,他说往里走,你就往里走。我想这是一码事儿。搞这些花样,又要用后腿立起,这对你的跗关节很不好,那你咋办呢?”

“那要看情况,”战马说,“一般来说,我必须跟一群手拿大刀、大喊大叫的毛烘烘的人纠缠在一起——亮闪闪的长刀,比马医的刀还厉害,我还得留心,让狄克的靴子刚刚碰上另一个人的靴子,却不要蹭坏它。我看到狄克的长矛在我右眼的右面,我知道自己平安无事。我和狄克风风火火往前冲的时候,我可不愿意有人马挡住我们的去路。”

“那些大刀不伤谁吗?”小骡子说。

“嘿,有一回我的胸口挨了一刀,但那怪不得狄克——”

“要是受了伤,我就要弄明白该怪谁了!”小骡子说。

“你必须这样,”战马说,“要是你不信任你的主人,你倒可以立马跑掉。我们有些战马就是这样做的,我也不怪他们。我说过,那怪不得狄克。那个人在地上躺着,我展开身子以防踩着他,他却向上对我猛砍了一刀。下一回我要是非跨过一个躺下的人,我就踩在他身上——狠狠地。”

“哼!”比利说,“这话傻到家了。什么时候,刀都是龌龊的东西。正当的办法是鞴上一副好鞍子,爬一座山依靠四只蹄子,还有你的耳朵,使出浑身解数拼命爬,直到你比别的高出几百英尺,站在一道你刚好有地方搁下四只蹄子的山梁上。然后你就一动不动、不声不响地站着——千万不要让人抓你的脑袋,尕的个——大炮拼装在一起的时候不要出声儿,然后你瞅那些罂粟花儿一样的小炮弹掉进下面很远很远的树梢上。”

“你没有摔过跤吧?”战马问。

“人家说如果骡子摔跤,你就能劈开母鸡的耳朵,”比利说,“时不时也许一副鞴得很孬的鞍子会颠翻一头骡子,不过这种情况十分罕见。我希望给你们演示演示我们的工作。漂亮。我花了三年工夫才摸清人们的意图何在。事情的诀窍就是千万不要把自己暴露在蓝天的背景上,因为你要是这么一来,你就有挨枪子儿的可能。记住,尕的个。总要尽可能地隐蔽自己,哪怕你多走一英里的弯路。遇到那样子攀爬的时候,我总是给炮队领路。”

“挨枪子儿却没有机会冲向开枪的人!”战马苦思冥想着说,“这我可受不了。我倒是想跟狄克冲锋陷阵。”

“噢,不行,你不能这么干。你知道枪炮一旦到位,冲锋陷阵的是它们,那才干净利落呢。不过大刀——呸!”

辎重驼刚才有一阵子脑袋一直一伸一伸的,想插句话进来。于是,我听见他清了清嗓子神经兮兮地说:

“我——我——我打过一点点仗,但不是以爬坡或者跑路的方式打的。”

“那倒也是。既然你提起这事儿,”比利说,“看你的样子,好像生来就不是爬坡或跑路的料——完全不是。喂,那是怎么回事呀,老草包?”

“有适当的方式,”骆驼说,“我们统统卧下——”

“哟,我的后鞧、胸甲哟!”战马悄声说,“卧下?”

“我们卧不来——一百来号,”骆驼接着说,“排成一个大方阵,人们把我们的驮包和鞍子码在方阵外面,他们在我们的背上面开枪射击,人们就是这么做的,在方阵的四面。”

“什么样的人?来的哪一个人都这样?”战马说,“他们在骑术学校里教我们躺倒,让我们的主人枪架在我们身上开火。不过狄克·康利夫是我唯一信得过能这样做的人。这把我的肚带弄得痒抓抓的,再说了,我脑袋伏在地上没法儿看东西。”

“谁把枪架在你身上开火有什么关系?”骆驼说,“附近有的是人,有的是骆驼,还有很大很大的烟云。那时候我并不害怕。我静静地卧着等就是了。”

“可是,”比利说,“夜里你做噩梦,搅得军营兵荒马乱。好啦!好啦!再甭说躺倒,让一个人把枪架在我身上开火的事啦,我还没有躺倒,我的脚后跟和他的脑袋就有话说啦。你听说过这样恐怖的事情吗?”

一阵长时间的静默,后来一头拖炮的犍牛抬起他的大脑袋说,“这可蠢到家啦。打仗只有一种方式。”

“噢,尽说胡话。”比利说,“请不要太在意我的话。我想你们这些家伙是靠尾巴站着打仗吧。”

“只有一种方式,”两头牛异口同声地说(他们一定是双胞胎),“就是这样的方式。双尾一吹喇叭就把我们二十对兄弟拴到大炮上。”(“双尾”是军营里对大象的俗称。)

“双尾吹喇叭干吗呀?”小骡子说。

“表示他不能再靠近对方的烟了。双尾是个大胆小鬼。于是我们大家一起拉大炮——嘿呀——呼啦!嘻呀!呼啦!我们不像猫那样爬,也不像牛犊那样跑。我们横过平原,二十对兄弟齐用力,直到又给我们卸了轭,我们才开始吃草,而大炮越过平原对某个筑了泥墙的城镇喊话,一片一片的城墙倒下来,尘土漫天,好像很多牛群赶着回家一样。”

“噢!你挑那个时候吃草,是吧?”小骡子说。

“那个时候还是别的时候。吃总是好事。我们一直吃到又被套上轭,把炮拽回到双尾等候的地方。有时候,城里有大炮回话,我们有的被打死。这样,剩下的就有更多的草吃啦。这是命——完全是命。不过,双尾是个大胆小鬼。这就是打仗的正当方式。我们是从哈普尔来的兄弟,我们的父亲是头湿婆神的圣牛。我们已经说了。”

“好啦,今晚我算是长了不少学识,”战马说,“请问你们二位螺旋炮队的爷儿们,当大炮向你们开火,后面又有双尾的情况下,你们还有心思吃草吗?”

“这大概就像我们想卧下,让人们在我们身上乱爬,或者向操着大刀的人群里冲一样。我们从来没有听到过那样的胡言乱语。一道山梁,一副平稳的驮包,一个你可以信赖让你选自己的路的骡夫,我就是你的骡子。至于别的东西——一概不管!”比利说着跺了一下脚。

“当然,”战马说,“各有各的情况,大家不会一模一样,我看得出来,你们对父系家世的好多情况都不明了。”

“甭管我的父系家世,”比利生气地说,“因为每头骡子都讨厌让人家提他父亲是头驴。我父亲是位南方的绅士,但凡他碰上马,都能把他拽倒,咬碎,踢烂。记住这一点,你这棕色大野种!”

野种的意思是没有正宗血统的野马。想想看,如果一匹拉车马管奥蒙德纯种赛马叫“杂种驽马”,他有什么样的感受,你就可以想象那匹澳大利亚马的心情了。我一度看见他的眼白在黑暗中闪光。

“你看,你这进口的马拉加公驴的儿子,”他咬牙切齿地说,“我要让你知道,在母系一方我与墨尔本杯得主卡宾有血缘关系,在我的老家,我们不兴叫什么玩射豆炮连的鹦鹉舌、猪脑袋骡子胡作非为。你准备好了吗?”

“你靠后腿站起来吧!”比利尖声叫道。他们俩都用后腿站起来,面对面,我等着看一场恶仗,这时候在黑暗中,右边发出一声咕咕哝哝的叫声——“孩子们,你们在那儿干吗?要打仗呀?安静。”

两头畜生发出一声厌恶的鼻息,落下前腿,因为无论马还是骡子都受不了大象的声音。

“那是双尾!”战马说,“我受不了他。两头都有尾巴,真不公道!”

“我也有同感,”比利说着便挤到战马身上套近乎,“我们在很多事情上非常相像。”

“我想这是我们从自己父母亲那里传承来的,”战马说,“争来吵去划不来。嘿!双尾,你被绑起来了吗?”

“不错。”双尾说,长鼻子一扬,大笑了一声。“我被关在栅栏里过夜,我听见你们这些家伙在说什么。不过别怕,我不会过来的。”

犍牛和骆驼用不大不小的声音说:“怕双尾——什么话呀!”犍牛接着往下说:“很抱歉你听着了,不过我们说的都是实话。双尾,大炮开火时你怕什么呀?”

“嘿,”双尾说,一条后腿蹭着另一条后腿,绝像一个小男孩在背诗。“我拿不准你们是否理解。”

“我们不理解,但我们得拖炮呀。”犍牛说。

“这我知道,我还知道你们比你们所认为的还要勇敢得多。但这跟我不一样。最近有一天我的炮连连长管我叫厚皮草包。”

“我想,这又是一种打仗的方式吧?”比利说,他又打起了精神。

“当然,你不懂那种说法的意思,但是我懂。它的意思是甘居中游,我就是这种地位。我脑袋里就看得出来,炮弹炸开时,会出现什么情况,可你们犍牛不行。”

“我行,”战马说,“至少能看出点儿门道。我尽量不去想它。”

“我看见的比你多,我还琢磨它。我知道我有很多方面要当心,我知道我病了以后谁也不知道怎样把我治好。他们能做的不外乎停发赶我的人的工钱,直到我好了为止,我对赶我的人信不过。”

“啊!”战马说,“这就把问题说清楚了。我信任狄克。”

“你可以把整整一个团的狄克搁到我的背上,也不会使我好受一点儿。我知道的刚够让我不自在,却不够让我继续往前走。”

“我们不懂。”犍牛说。

“我知道你们不懂。我不是说给你们听的。你们不知道什么是血。”

“我们知道,”犍牛说,“血是种红东西,可以渗到地里去,还有一股子气味。”

战马踢了一蹄子,蹦了一下,喷了一下鼻息。

“甭说它了,”他说,“一想起它,我就能闻到它。它使我想跑——当我背上没有狄克的时候。”

“可它不在这里呀,”骆驼和犍牛说,“你怎么这么蠢呀?”

“血是讨厌的东西,”比利说,“我不想跑,但我不想议论它。”

“你们可都说到地方上了!”双尾说,摆着尾巴做解释。

“当然了,我们一整夜都在这地方。”犍牛们说。

双尾跺了跺脚,弄得脚上的铁环丁零当啷响起来。“哦,我不能给你们说话,你们自己脑袋里面看不见。”

“不对,我们看得见我们的四只眼睛外面,”犍牛们说,“我们看得见我们的正前方。”

“要是我能那样干,不干别的,就根本用不着你们来拖大炮了。如果我像我的连长——还没开火,他就能在脑袋里看见东西,并且全身发抖,但他知道得太多,所以不会跑掉——如果我像他一样,我就能拖大炮。不过假如我也那么聪明,我就压根儿不会到这里来。我该当森林之王,像过去那样,半天睡大觉,想洗澡就洗澡。我一个月都没有好好儿地洗个澡了。”

“那倒挺好,”比利说,“但给一件东西起个长名儿并不能使它有所改进。”

“嘘!”战马说,“我想我懂得双尾的意思。”

“过一会儿你们都会明白,”双尾愤怒地说,“现在你给我解释一下你们干吗不喜欢这样的事情!”

他暴跳如雷地吹起了喇叭,吹得不能再响了。

“别这样!”比利和战马一起说。我能听见他们又是跺脚,又是打战。大象吹喇叭总令人讨厌,尤其在黑夜里。

“我就这样。”双尾说,“你们解释解释好不好?赫尔夫!呃特!呃哈!”然后他突然打住,我听见黑暗中一声呜咽,知道雌狐终于发现我了。她跟我一样明白:如果世界上有一样东西大象最害怕,那就是一只狂吠的小狗了。所以她停下来吓唬栅栏里的双尾,围着他的脚狂吠。双尾拖沓着脚尖叫着,“滚开,小狗!”他说,“别闻我的脚脖子,要不我踢死你。小狗乖乖——可爱的小狗狗!回家去,你这汪汪直叫的小畜生!唉,干吗没有人把她领走呢?过会子她会咬我的。”

“我觉得,”比利对战马说,“我们的双尾朋友害怕的东西最多。如果我把为自己在阅兵场上踢遍的每只狗准备的大餐饱吃一顿,我几乎就像双尾一样胖了。”

我吹了一声口哨,满身是泥的雌狐就向我扑来,舔起了我的鼻子,并且讲起了在军营里四处寻找我的老长老长的故事。我从来没有让她知道我懂得畜语,要不,她就会处处捣乱。于是我把大衣扣子解开,把她揣到怀里,双尾拖沓着脚,跺来跺去自个儿咕哝。

“了不得!真是了不得!”他说,“它跑进了我们家。喏,那可憎的小畜生上哪儿去了呀?”

我听见他用他的长鼻子到处踅摸。

“我们大家好像都受了不同程度的影响,”他吹着鼻子继续说,“喏,我相信,我吹喇叭的时候,你们几位受惊啦。”

“确切地说,不是受惊。”战马说,“不过它让我觉得好像是该放鞍子的地方却来了一窝大黄蜂。别再来这一套啦。”

“我被一只小狗搞怕了,这里的那头骆驼夜里被噩梦弄怕了。”

“十分幸运,我们不用同一种方式打仗。”战马说。

“我想知道的是,”小骡子说,他可安静了好长时间了——“我想知道的是,到底为什么我们非打仗不可。”

“因为人家叫我们打。”战马说,鄙夷地喷了一声鼻息。

“命令。”骡子比利说,他嚓地咬了一下牙。

“胡克姆嘿(这是一种命令)!”骆驼哼哼哧哧地说;双尾和犍牛重复了一下:“胡克姆嘿!”

“对,可是谁下命令呀?”新兵骡子说。

“你脑袋旁边走的那个人呗——要么就是骑在你背上的——要么就是牵鼻绳的——要么就是拧你的尾巴的。”比利、战马、骆驼和犍牛们一个接一个地说。

“可谁给他们下命令呀?”

“你想知道的可太多啦,尕的个,”比利说,“这样子就会挨踢。你要做的就是听你脑袋旁边的那个人的话,千万甭问这问那的。”

“他说得完全对,”双尾说道,“老听话,我可做不到,因为我甘居中游。不过比利说得对,听在你旁边下命令的人的话,要不除了挨揍,你还挡住了全炮连的去路。”

拖炮的犍牛们站起来要走。“天快亮了。”他们说,“我们要归队了。不错,我们只看见眼睛外面的东西,我们又不是很聪明,不过话说回来,我们却是今晚唯一没有被吓着的伙计。晚安,你们这些勇士们。”

谁也没有答话,战马要换个话题,开口说:“那只小狗在哪儿呀?有狗就说明附近有人。”

“我在这儿呢,”雌狐叫道,“跟我的主人在炮尾下面呢。你这头莽撞的大骆驼,你掀翻了我们的帐篷,我的主人可生气啦。”

“呸!”犍牛们说,“他肯定是个白人?”

“当然是了。”雌狐说,“你认为养我的是个赶牛的黑鬼?”

“胡啊赫!欧啊赫!唔夫!”犍牛们说,“咱们赶快开路吧。”

他们在泥里面向前冲去,不知怎么地,把他们的牛轭撞到一个弹药车的辕杆上,卡住了。

“这下你们可完蛋啦,”比利平静地说,“别硬来。你们要挂到大天亮的。到底是怎么回事呀?”

这对犍牛就开始喷嘶嘶的长鼻息,只有印度牛才有这种本事,他们推推搡搡,挤来挤去,左转右旋,又是跺脚,又是滑蹄,死命地哼哼,差点儿倒进泥里。

“你们过会儿就会折断脖子的。”战马说,“白人怎么啦?我是跟他们生活在一起的。”

“他们——吃——我们!拽!”靠近的那头犍牛说。牛轭叭的一声折断了,两头牛一起蹒蹒跚跚走开了。

我先前压根儿不知道印度牛为什么如此害怕英国人。我们吃牛肉——牛肉可是赶牛人从来不碰的东西——当然牛是不喜欢这么做的。

“但愿把我用我自己鞍垫上的链子揍一顿!谁会想到这么两个大块头会掉脑袋呢?”比利说。

“甭管啦,我去瞧瞧那个人。据我所知,大多数白人口袋里都装着东西呢。”战马说。

“那我就走啦。我说不上我自己就十分喜欢他们。再说了,没地方睡觉的白人很可能是些贼娃子。我背上还驮着很多很多政府财务呢。走吧,尕的个,我们要归队了。晚安,澳大利亚!明儿检阅式上见。晚安,老草包!——想办法控制一下你的情绪,好不好?晚安,双尾!要是明儿你在检阅场上从我们身边经过,可别吹喇叭,一吹就乱了我们的阵脚。”

骡子比利用一个久经沙场的老兵的、一瘸一拐的步伐走开了。这时战马把脑袋探到我的胸口,我给了他几块饼干。而雌狐,这条最自命不凡的狗,跟他吹牛说她和我养了几十匹马。

“明儿我要坐我的犬车参加检阅。”她说,“你会在哪儿呢?”

“第二中队的左首。我为全队定步速,小姐,”他彬彬有礼地说,“现在我得回到狄克那儿去了。我沾了一尾巴的泥,他要苦干两个钟头梳理我去参加检阅。”

三万官兵的大检阅在那天下午举行。我和雌狐有个很好的位置,靠近总督和阿富汗的埃米尔。埃米尔戴着他那阿斯特拉罕毛的黑色大高礼帽,中间镶着一颗钻石星章。检阅的第一部分一派阳光,步兵团队迈着一浪推一浪的整齐步伐走过,所有的枪排成了一条直线,把我们的眼睛都看晕了。随后是骑兵,他们以“帅气的邓迪”这种美丽的小跑步伐前进,雌狐竖起耳朵坐在犬车里。长矛骑兵第二中队疾驰而过,其中就有那匹战马,尾巴像旋转的丝绸,脑袋贴在胸口上,耳朵一只向前,一只向后,为全队定节拍,四条腿像华尔兹舞步那样滑行。然后炮队过来了,我看见双尾和另外两头象排成一行拖着四十磅炮弹攻城炮,后面还跟着二十对犍牛。第七对架着一副新轭,露出僵硬的倦态。最后是螺旋炮,看骡子比利的架势就像是全军统帅一样,他的挽具都上过油,刨过光,闪闪发亮。我情不自禁向骡子比利喝了一声彩,但他决不左顾右盼。

又开始下雨了,一时间烟雨迷蒙,看不见部队在干什么。他们已经在平原上列成了一个半圆,正在扩展成一字长蛇阵。蛇阵越来越长,最后,两翼间有四分之三英里长——一堵人、马、炮构筑的坚固城墙。然后全排径直迈向总督和埃米尔。他们走近的时候,地面开始颤抖,活像一艘轮船引擎加速时的甲板。

你要是不亲临现场,你就无法想象这种部队的坚定步伐在看客心目中产生的惊心动魄的效果,即便他们知道这只不过是检阅而已。我望着埃米尔,在此之前他没有显露出一丝惊讶或别的什么神情,可这会儿他的眼睛越睁越大,他抓起坐骑脖子上的缰绳,朝身后望去。一时间,他似乎要拔出剑来,从背后马车里的英国男女中间夺路而出。这时前进突然停步,大地顿时鸦雀无声,全排立正敬礼,三十支乐队一齐奏乐。阅兵式就此结束,团队冒着雨返回营地,一支步兵乐队奏起了如下的乐曲——

动物成双成对走过来,

  乌啦,

动物成双成对走过来,

  大象和炮骡,

他们都进了挪亚方舟,

  为了躲躲雨!

然后一个白胡子、长头发的中亚老酋长陪同埃米尔下了马,我听见他向一位当地军官问了一些问题。

“喏,”他说,“这神奇的场景是怎么搞成的?”

军官答道:“下一道命令,大家听从就是了。”

“可畜生能像人一样聪明吗?”酋长问。

“他们像人一样听从命令。骡、马、象、牛,各听各的驾驭者的命令,驾驭者听下士的,下士听中尉的,中尉听上尉的,上尉听少校的,少校听上校的,上校听统帅三团的准将的,准将听将军的,将军听总督的,总督又是女王的仆役。就是这么办事情的。”

“但愿阿富汗也会这么办!”酋长说,“因为在那里我们只听自己的意愿。”

“正因为如此,”当地军官捻着小胡子说,“你们不听从的你们的埃米尔必须来这里,接受我们总督的命令。”

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