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1898
YEARLY, with tent and rifle, our careless white men go | |
| By the pass called Muttianee, to shoot in the vale below. | |
| Yearly by Muttianee he follows our white men in— | |
| Matun, the old blind beggar, bandaged from brow to chin. | |
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| Eyeless, noseless, and lipless—toothless, broken of speech, | 5 |
| Seeking a dole at the doorway he mumbles his tale to each; | |
| Over and over the story, ending as he began: | |
| “Make ye no truce with Adam-zad—the Bear that walks like a Man! | |
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| “There was a flint in my musket—pricked and primed was the pan, | |
| When I went hunting Adam-zad—the Bear that stands like a Man. | 10 |
| I looked my last on the timber, I looked my last on the snow, | |
| When I went hunting Adam-zad fifty summers ago! | |
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| “I knew his times and his seasons, as he knew mine, that fed | |
| By night in the ripened maizefield and robbed my house of bread. | |
| I knew his strength and cunning, as he knew mine, that crept | 15 |
| At dawn to the crowded goat-pens and plundered while I slept. | |
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| “Up from his stony playground—down from his well-digged lair— | |
| Out on the naked ridges ran Adam-zad the Bear; | |
| Groaning, grunting, and roaring, heavy with stolen meals, | |
| Two long marches to northward, and I was at his heels! | 20 |
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| “Two long marches to northward, at the fall of the second night, | |
| I came on mine enemy Adam-zad all panting from his flight. | |
| There was a charge in the musket—pricked and primed was the pan— | |
| My finger crooked on the trigger—when he reared up like a man. | |
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| “Horrible, hairy, human, with paws like hands in prayer, | 25 |
| Making his supplication rose Adam-zad the Bear! | |
| I looked at the swaying shoulders, at the paunch’s swag and swing, | |
| And my heart was touched with pity for the monstrous, pleading thing. | |
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| “Touched with pity and wonder, I did not fire then … | |
| I have looked no more on women—I have walked no more with men. | 30 |
| Nearer he tottered and nearer, with paws like hands that pray— | |
| From brow to jaw that steel-shod paw, it ripped my face away! | |
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| “Sudden, silent, and savage, searing as flame the blow— | |
| Faceless I fell before his feet, fifty summers ago. | |
| I heard him grunt and chuckle—I heard him pass to his den. | 35 |
| He left me blind to the darkened years and the little mercy of men. | |
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| “Now ye go down in the morning with guns of the newer style, | |
| That load (I have felt) in the middle and range (I have heard) a mile? | |
| Luck to the white man’s rifle, that shoots so fast and true, | |
| But—pay, and I lift my bandage and show what the Bear can do!” | 40 |
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| (Flesh like slag in the furnace, knobbed and withered and grey— | |
| Matun, the old blind beggar, he gives good worth for his pay.) | |
| “Rouse him at noon in the bushes, follow and press him hard— | |
| Not for his ragings and roarings flinch ye from Adam-zad. | |
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| “But (pay, and I put back the bandage) this is the time to fear, | 45 |
| When he stands up like a tired man, tottering near and near; | |
| When he stands up as pleading, in wavering, man-brute guise, | |
| When he veils the hate and cunning of his little, swinish eyes; | |
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| “When he shows as seeking quarter, with paws like hands in prayer, | |
| That is the time of peril—the time of the Truce of the Bear!” | 50 |
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| Eyeless, noseless, and lipless, asking a dole at the door, | |
| Matun, the old blind beggar, he tells it o’er and o’er; | |
| Fumbling and feeling the rifles, warming his hands at the flame, | |
| Hearing our careless white men talk of the morrow’s game; | |
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| Over and over the story, ending as he began:— | 55 |
| “There is no truce with Adam-zad, the Bear that looks like a Man!” | |
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