tartarin of tarascon-第9节

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〃Let's　out　and　at　the　lion！〃　he　exclaimed；　throwing　off　the　clothes　and　briskly　dressing　himself。

His　plan　was　as　follows：　he　would　go　forth　from　the　city　without　saying　a　word　to　a　soul；　plunge　into　the　great　desert；　await　nightfall　to　ambush　himself；　and　bang　away　at　the　first　lion　who　walked　up。　Then　would　hen　return　to　breakfast　in　the　morning　at　the　hotel；　receive　the　felicitations　of　the　natives；　and　hire　a　cart　to　bring　in　the　quarry。

So　he　hurriedly　armed　himself；　attached　upright　on　his　back　the　shelter…tent　（which；　when　rolled　up；　left　its　centre　pole　sticking　out　a　clear　foot　above　his　head）；　and　descended　to　the　street　as　stiffly　as　though　he　had　swallowed　it。　　Not　caring　to　ask　the　way　of　anybody；　from　fear　of　letting　out　his　project；　he　turned　fairly　to　the　right；　and　threaded　the　Bab…Azoon　arcade　to　the　very　end；　where　swarms　of　Algerian　Jews　watched　him　pass　from　their　corner　ambushes　like　so　many　spiders；　crossing　the　Theatre　place；　he　entered　the　outer　ward；　and　lastly　came　upon　the　dusty　Mustapha　highway。

Upon　this　was　a　quaint　conglomeration：　omnibuses；　hackney　coaches；　corricolos；　the　army　service　waggons；　huge　hay…carts　drawn　by　bullocks；　squads　of　Chasseurs　d'Afrique；　droves　of　microscopic　asses；　trucks　of　Alsatian　emigrants；　spahis　in　scarlet　cloaks　　all　filed　by　in　a　whirlwind　cloud　of　dust；　amidst　shouts；　songs；　and　trumpetcalls；　between　two　rows　of　vile…looking　booths；　at　the　doors　of　which　lanky　Mahonnais　women　might　be　seen　doing　their　hair；　drinking…dens　filled　with　soldiers；　and　shops　of　butchers　and　knackers。

〃What　rubbish；　to　din　me　about　the　Orient！〃　grumbled　the　great　Tartarin；　〃there　are　not　even　as　many　Turks　here　as　at　Marseilles。〃

All　of　a　sudden　he　saw　a　splendid　camel　strut　by　him　quite　closely；　stretching　its　long　legs　and　puffing　out　its　throat　like　a　turkey…cock；　and　that　made　his　heart　throb。　Camels　already；　eh？　Lions　could　not　be　far　Off　now；　and；　indeed；　in　five　minutes'　time　he　did　see　a　whole　band　of　lion…hunters　coming　his　way　under　arms。

〃Cowards！〃　thought　our　hero　as　he　skirted　them；　〃downright　cowards；　to　go　at　a　lion　in　companies　and　with　dogs！〃

For　it　never　could　occur　to　him　that　anything　but　lions　were　objects　of　the　chase　in　　Algeria。　For　all　that；　these　Nimrods　wore　such　complacent　phizzes　of　retired　tradesmen；　and　their　style　of　lion…　hunting　with　dogs　and　game…bags　was　so　patriarchal；　that　the　Tarasconian；　a　little　perplexed；　deemed　it　incumbent　to　question　one　of　the　gentlemen。

〃And　furthermore；　comrade；　is　the　sport　good？〃

〃Not　bad；〃　responded　the　other；　regarding　the　speaker's　imposing　warlike　equipment　with　a　scared　eye。

〃Killed　any？〃

〃Rather　！　Not　so　bad　　only　look。〃　Whereupon　the　Algerian　sportsman　showed　that　it　was　rabbits　and　woodcock　stuffing　out　the　bag。

〃What！　do　you　call　that　your　bag？　Do　you　put　such…like　in　your　bag？〃

〃Where　else　should　I　put　'em　？〃

〃But　it's　such　little　game。〃

〃Some　run　small　and　some　run　large；〃　observed　the　hunter。

In　haste　to　catch　up　with　his　companions；　he　joined　them　with　several　long　strides。　The　dauntless　Tartarin　remained　rooted　in　the　middle　of　the　road　with　stupefaction。　〃Pooh！〃　he　ejaculated；　after　a　moment's　reflection；　〃these　are　jokers。　　They　haven't　killed　anything　whatever。〃　and　he　went　his　way。

Already　the　houses　became　scarcer；　and　so　did　the　passengers。　Dark　came　on　and　objects　were　blurred；　though　Tartarin　walked　on　for　half　an　hour　more；　when　he　stopped；　for　it　was　night。　　A　moonless　night；　too；　　but　sprinkled　with　stars。　　On　the　highroad　there　was　nobody。　　The　hero　concluded　that　lions　are　not　stage…　coaches；　and　would　not　of　their　own　choice　travel　the　main　ways。　So　he　wheeled　into　the　fields；　where　there　were　brambles　and　ditches　and　bushes　at　every　step；　but　he　kept　on　nevertheless。

But　suddenly　he　halted。

〃I　smell　lions　about　here！〃　said　our　friend；　sniffing　right　and　left。



V。　Bang；　bang！


CERTAINLY　a　great　wilderness；　bristling　with　odd　plants　of　that　Oriental　kind　which　look　like　wicked　creatures。　Under　the　feeble　starlight　their　magnified　shadows　barred　the　ground　in　every　way。　On　the　right　loomed　up　confusedly　the　heavy　mass　of　a　mountain　　perhaps　the　Atlas　range。　　On　the　heart…hand；　the　invisible　sea　hollowly　rolling。　The　very　spot　to　attract　wild　beasts。

With　one　gun　laid　before　him　and　the　other　in　his　grasp；　Tartarin　of　Tarascon　went　down　on　one　knee　and　waited　an　hour；　ay；　a　good　couple；　and　nothing　turned　up。　Then　he　bethought　him　how；　in　his　books；　the　great　lion…slayers　never　went　out　hunting　without　having　a　lamb　or　a　kid　along　with　them；　which　they　tied　up　a　space　before　them；　and　set　bleating　or　baa…ing　by　jerking　its　foot　with　a　string。　Not　having　any　goat；　the　Tarasconer　had　the　idea　of　employing　an　imitation；　and　he　set　to　crying　in　a　tremulous　voice　：

〃Baa…a…a　！〃

At　first　it　was　done　very　softly；　because　at　bottom　he　was　a　little　alarmed　lest　the　lion　should　hear　him；　but　as　nothing　came；　he　baa…　ed　more　loudly。　Still　nothing。　Losing　patience；　he　resumed　many　times　running　at　the　top　of　his　voice；　till　the　〃Baa；　baa；　baa！〃　came　out　with　so　much　power　that　the　goat　began　to　be　mistakable　for　a　bull。

Unexpectedly；　a　few　steps　in　front；　some　gigantic　black　thing　appeared。　　He　was　hushed。　This　thing　lowered　its　head；　sniffed　the　ground；　hounded　up；　rolled　over；　and　darted　off　at　the　gallop；　but　returned　and　stopped　short。　　Who　could　doubt　it　was　the　lion？　　for　now　its　four　short　legs　could　plainly　be　seen；　its　formidable　mane　and　its　large　eyes　gleaming　in　the　gloom。

Up　went　his　gun　into　position。　　Fire's　the　word！　and　bang；　bang！　it　was　done。　And　immediately　there　was　a　leap　back　and　the　drawing　of　the　hunting…knife。　　To　the　Tarasconian's　shot　a　terrible　roaring　replied。

〃He's　got　it！〃　cried　our　good　Tartarin　as；　steadying　himself　on　his　sturdy　supporters；　he　prepared　to　receive　the　brute's　charge。

But　it　had　more　than　its　fill；　and　galloped　off；　howling。　　He　did　not　budge；　for　he　expected　to　see　the　female　mate　appear；　as　the　story…　books　always　lay　it　down　she　should。

Unhappily；　no　female　came。　After　two　or　three　hours'　waiting　the　Tarasconian　grew　tired。　　The　ground　was　damp；　the　night　was　getting　cool；　and　the　sea…breeze　pricked　sharply。

〃I　have　a　good　mind　to　take　a　nap　till　daylight；〃　he　said　to　himself。

To　avoid　catching　rheumatism；　he　had　recourse　to　his　patent　tent。　But　here's　where　Old　Nick　interfered！　This　tent　was　of　so　very　ingenious　a　construction　that　he　could　not　manage　to　open　it。　　In　vain　did　he　toil　over　it　and　perspire　an　hour　through　　the　confounded　apparatus　would　not　come　unfolded。　There　are　some　umbrellas　which　amuse　themselves　under　torrential　rains　with　just　such　tricks　upon　you。　Fairly　tired　out　with　the　struggle；　the　victim　dashed　down　the　machine　and　lay　upon　it；　swearing　like　the　regular　Southron　he　was。　〃Tar；　tar；　rar；　tar！　tar；　rar；　tar！〃

〃What　on　earth's　that？〃　wondered　Tartarin；　suddenly　aroused。

It　was　the　bugles　of　the　Chasseurs　d'Afrique　sounding　the　turn…out　in　the　Mustapha　barracks。　The　stupefied　lion…slayer　rubbed　his　eyes；　for　he　had　believed　himself　out　in　the　boundless　wilderness；　and　do　you　know　where　he　really　was？　　in　a　field　of　artichokes；　between　a　cabbage…garden　and　a　patch　of　beets。　His　Sahara　grew　kitchen　vegetables。

Close　to　him；　on　the　pretty　verdant　slope　of　Upper　Mustapha；　the　snowy　villas　glowed　in　the　rosy　rising　sun：　anybody　would　believe　himself　in　the　neighbourhood　of　Marseilles；　amongst　its　bastides　and　bastidons。

The　commonplace　and　kitchen…gardenish　aspect　of　this　sleep…steeped　country　much　astonished　the　poor　man；　and　put　him　in　bad　humour。

〃These　folk　are　crazy；〃　he　reasoned；　〃to　plant　artichokes　in　the　prowling…ground　of　lions；　for；　in　short；　I　have　not　been　dreaming。　Lions　have　come　here；　and　there's　the　proof〃

What　he　called　the　proof　was　blood…spots　left　behind　the　beast　in　its　flight。　　Bending　over　this　ruddy　trail。　with　his　eye　on　the　lookout　and　his　revolver　in　his　fist；　the　valiant　Tarasconian　went　from　artichoke　to　artichoke　up　to　a　little　field　of　oats。　　In　the　trampled　grass　was　a　pool　of　blood；　and　in　the　midst　of　the　pool；　lying　on　its　flank；　with　a　large　wound　in　the　head；　was　a　　guess　what？

〃A　lion；　of　course　！〃

Not　a　bit　of　it！　An　ass！　　one　of　those　little　donkeys　so　common　in　Algeria；　where　they　are　called　bourriquots。



VI。　Arrival　of　the　Female　　A　Terrible　Combat　　〃Game　Fellows　Meet　Here！〃


LOOKING　on　his　hapless　victim；　Tartarin's　first　impulse　was　one　of　vexation。　There　is　such　a　wide　gap　between　a　lion　and　poor　Jack！　His　second　feeling　was　one　of　pity。　The　poor　bourriquot　was　so　pretty　and　looked　so　kindly。　　The　hide　on　his　still　warm　sides　heaved　and　fell　like　waves。　　Tartarin　knelt　down；　and　strove　with　the　end　of　his　Algerian　sash　to　stanch　the　blood；　and　all　you　can　imagine　in　the　way　of　touchingness　was　offered　by　the　picture　of　this　great　man　tending　this　little　ass。

At　the　touch　of　the　silky　cloth　the　donkey；　who　had　not　twopennyworth　of　life　in　him；　opened　his　large　grey　eye　and　winked　his　long　ears　two　or　three　times；　as　much　as　to　say；　〃Oh；　thank　you！〃　before　a　final　spasm　shook　it　from　head　to　tail；　whereafter　it　stirred　no　more。

〃Noiraud！　Blackey！〃　suddenly　screamed　a　vo