back. Thirty minutes is over,â Sangita ran into the palace and, prostrating herself before her statue, said, âI didnât mean it, I didnât mean it. I pray you now to bring Anwar back.â
The syce scrambled up, over the rocks, till he reached the lower jungle. He was full of panic because he had disobeyed the Rajaâs orders and allowed little prince Anwar to ride on his own and was desperate to find the boy before the Raja came home and discovered what he had done. Sometimes he shouted out and sometimes stopped to listen, but the only returning sounds were echoes of his own voice, the scuttle of wild animals and the rattle of startled birds. As he climbed and the trees became denser and higher, his fear increased. He had heard the local people say, âThe evil is higher,â and though no one seemed to know exactly what it meant, the village people always refused to go up here, as though the place was haunted with evil spirits or occupied by a dangerous deity. And also there were fierce wild animals here. Only a year before, the Raja had shot a tiger in this very place.
At first, when Hari heard the creaking munching sounds, he hardly dared to go on, feeling sure that he was just about to encounter a wild tiger that was in the process ofdevouring the little boy and his pony. But when Hari at last got up the courage to peep through the bushes, he saw Whitey grazing peacefully. The sounds Hari had heard were the ponyâs teeth ripping grass, the clang of bit and stirrup and the stirring of leather, for the pony still wore its saddle and bridle. The syce was filled with instant relief. The little prince must have dismounted, was lying asleep beside his pony, and that was why he had not responded to the syceâs cries. He even might have fallen and was lying injured, in which case the syce would get him back down the mountain, and to the palace as quickly as he could.
The pony looked up and neighed a welcome as Hari approached, but though Hari looked all around, there was no sign at all of Anwar. Maybe the little prince had got off and was wandering nearby, thought Hari. He felt sure that the child had not been snatched off the ponyâs back by a wild animal, for there were no signs of a struggle and the saddlery was unbroken. Also the pony would not be so calm if it had recently encountered a tiger or a panther. At any rate, thought Hari with relief, the pony was found and the little boy would be found too, at any moment.
He began to search, his heart leaping with fright every time he heard a sudden sound that might be some ferocious jungle animal, and expecting at any moment to come upon the prince. But after a long time, there was still no sign of the little lord.
âBaby Sahib Anwar, Baby Sahib Anwar,â cried the syce over and over, shouting loudly because it is well known that wild animals run away from the sound of the human voice. As the syce began to dash from this side to that, his heart was not only beating fast from fear of tigers, but because much time had now passed and he could not see little lord Anwar anywhere. After a while, trembling and panting, he had to stop running because he did not know where, in this vast jungle, to go looking next.
At last he came back to where the pony was still quietly cropping. The sun would soon set, he needed help. He mounted the little pony and, with his feet trailing the ground, forced it to gallop back down to the palace, calling for Anwar all the time. At each turn he hoped that the little prince would come leaping out, crying, âI was hiding from you, Hari.â Every few minutes he would think he heard the sound of Anwarâs voice, but each time it turned out only to be the scream of a peacock, or the crowing of a jungle fowl. The child seemed to have vanished utterly, as though by magic. Perhaps, thought Hari, that is what had happened. Anwar had been taken by magic, for there seemed no other way he could have
The syce scrambled up, over the rocks, till he reached the lower jungle. He was full of panic because he had disobeyed the Rajaâs orders and allowed little prince Anwar to ride on his own and was desperate to find the boy before the Raja came home and discovered what he had done. Sometimes he shouted out and sometimes stopped to listen, but the only returning sounds were echoes of his own voice, the scuttle of wild animals and the rattle of startled birds. As he climbed and the trees became denser and higher, his fear increased. He had heard the local people say, âThe evil is higher,â and though no one seemed to know exactly what it meant, the village people always refused to go up here, as though the place was haunted with evil spirits or occupied by a dangerous deity. And also there were fierce wild animals here. Only a year before, the Raja had shot a tiger in this very place.
At first, when Hari heard the creaking munching sounds, he hardly dared to go on, feeling sure that he was just about to encounter a wild tiger that was in the process ofdevouring the little boy and his pony. But when Hari at last got up the courage to peep through the bushes, he saw Whitey grazing peacefully. The sounds Hari had heard were the ponyâs teeth ripping grass, the clang of bit and stirrup and the stirring of leather, for the pony still wore its saddle and bridle. The syce was filled with instant relief. The little prince must have dismounted, was lying asleep beside his pony, and that was why he had not responded to the syceâs cries. He even might have fallen and was lying injured, in which case the syce would get him back down the mountain, and to the palace as quickly as he could.
The pony looked up and neighed a welcome as Hari approached, but though Hari looked all around, there was no sign at all of Anwar. Maybe the little prince had got off and was wandering nearby, thought Hari. He felt sure that the child had not been snatched off the ponyâs back by a wild animal, for there were no signs of a struggle and the saddlery was unbroken. Also the pony would not be so calm if it had recently encountered a tiger or a panther. At any rate, thought Hari with relief, the pony was found and the little boy would be found too, at any moment.
He began to search, his heart leaping with fright every time he heard a sudden sound that might be some ferocious jungle animal, and expecting at any moment to come upon the prince. But after a long time, there was still no sign of the little lord.
âBaby Sahib Anwar, Baby Sahib Anwar,â cried the syce over and over, shouting loudly because it is well known that wild animals run away from the sound of the human voice. As the syce began to dash from this side to that, his heart was not only beating fast from fear of tigers, but because much time had now passed and he could not see little lord Anwar anywhere. After a while, trembling and panting, he had to stop running because he did not know where, in this vast jungle, to go looking next.
At last he came back to where the pony was still quietly cropping. The sun would soon set, he needed help. He mounted the little pony and, with his feet trailing the ground, forced it to gallop back down to the palace, calling for Anwar all the time. At each turn he hoped that the little prince would come leaping out, crying, âI was hiding from you, Hari.â Every few minutes he would think he heard the sound of Anwarâs voice, but each time it turned out only to be the scream of a peacock, or the crowing of a jungle fowl. The child seemed to have vanished utterly, as though by magic. Perhaps, thought Hari, that is what had happened. Anwar had been taken by magic, for there seemed no other way he could have
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