But never would we have dared to expose the silken-haired Percy to
the inclemency of such a night. On the other hand, Bashan stands
in great fear of even the slightest pain, and every twinge wrings
from him a response, the whining complaint of which would arouse
aversion, if its naive, folkish quality did not disarm one and set
the springs of gaiety aflow. Again and again, during his prowlings
in the underwood, I have heard him squeal aloud—a thorn had chanced
to prick him, or a resilient branch had switched him across the
face, and if he happened to have scratched his belly a little in
vaulting over the fence, or sprained his foot, I have been treated
to an antique hero’s chorus, a three-legged limping approach, an
uncontrollable wailing and self-lamentation. And the more
sympathetically I talked to him, the more insistent his clamour
became—though in a quarter of an hour he would be swooping and
running about as madly as before.
Percy was of a different metal. Percy would grit his teeth and keep
mum. He feared the rawhide whip just as Bashan fears it, and
unfortunately he got a taste of it oftener than Bashan; for, first
of all, I was younger and more hot-tempered during his epoch than
I am at present, and secondly, his heedlessness often assumed a
wanton and sinister aspect which simply clamoured for chastisement
and urged me to it. When, driven to extremities, I would take down
the whip from the nail, then, it is true, he would crawl under the
table or bench and make himself small, but never a howl passed his
lips when the blow, and perhaps yet another, came humming down upon
his back; at most he gave a low moan, in case the whip bit too
hard. But Bully Bashan begins to shriek and whimper when I merely
raise my arm. In short, he is without pride or dignity, without
self-restraint or self-discipline. But his activities seldom call
for armed punitive intervention—the less so since I have long ago
ceased to demand achievements from him which are contrary to his
nature and insistence upon which might lead to a collision.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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