Complete Works of Rudyard Kipling (Illustrated) (432 page)

“This!” said Georgie. The horses quickened their pace. They thought they had heard an order. “Perhaps when we die we may find out more, but it means this now.”

There was no answer. What could she say? As the world went, they had known each other rather less than eight and a half hours, but the matter was one that did not concern the world. There was a very long silence, while the breath in their nostrils drew cold and sharp as it might have been a fume of ether.

“That’s the second,” Georgie whispered. “You remember, don’t you?”

“It’s not!” — furiously. “It’s not!”

“On the downs the other night-months ago. You were just as you are now, and we went over the country for miles and miles.”

“It was all empty, too. They had gone away. Nobody frightened us. I wonder why, Boy?”

“Oh, if you remember that, you must remember the rest. Confess!”

“I remember lots of things, but I know I didn’t. I never have — till just now.”

“You did, dear.”

“I know I didn’t, because — oh, it’s no use keeping anything back! because I truthfully meant to.”

“And truthfully did.”

“No; meant to; but some one else came by.”

“There wasn’t any one else. There never has been.”

“There was — there always is. It was another woman — out there — on the sea. I saw her. It was the 26th of May. I’ve got it written down somewhere.”

“Oh, you’ve kept a record of your dreams, too? That’s odd about the other woman, because I happened to be on the sea just then.”

“I was right. How do I know what you’ve done when you were awake — and I thought it was only you!”

“You never were more wrong in your life. What a little temper you’ve got! Listen to me a minute, dear.” And Georgie, though he knew it not, committed black perjury. “It — it isn’t the kind of thing one says to any one, because they’d laugh; but on my word and honour, darling, I’ve never been kissed by a living soul outside my own people in all my life. Don’t laugh, dear. I wouldn’t tell any one but you, but it’s the solemn truth.”

“I knew! You are you. Oh, I knew you’d come some day; but I didn’t know you were you in the least till you spoke.”

“Then give me another.”

“And you never cared or looked anywhere? Why, all the round world must have loved you from the very minute they saw you, Boy.”

“They kept it to themselves if they did. No; I never cared.”

“And we shall be late for dinner — horribly late. Oh, how can I look at you in the light before your mother — and mine!”

“We’ll play you’re Miss Lacy till the proper time comes. What’s the shortest limit for people to get engaged? S’pose we have got to go through all the fuss of an engagement, haven’t we?”

“Oh, I don’t want to talk about that. It’s so commonplace. I’ve thought of something that you don’t know. I’m sure of it. What’s my name?”

“Miri — no, it isn’t, by Jove! Wait half a second, and it’ll come back to me. You aren’t — you can’t? Why, those old tales — before I went to school! I’ve never thought of ‘em from that day to this. Are you the original, only Annieanlouise?”

“It was what you always called me ever since the beginning. Oh! We’ve turned into the avenue, and we must be an hour late.”

“What does it matter? The chain goes as far back as those days? It must, of course — of course it must. I’ve got to ride round with this pestilent old bird-confound him!”

“‘“Ha! ha!” said the duck, laughing’ — do you remember that?”

“Yes, I do — flower-pots on my feet, and all. We’ve been together all this while; and I’ve got to say good bye to you till dinner. Sure I’ll see you at dinner-time? Sure you won’t sneak up to your room, darling, and leave me all the evening? Good-bye, dear — good-bye.”

“Good-bye, Boy, good-bye. Mind the arch! Don’t let Rufus bolt into his stables. Good-bye. Yes, I’ll come down to dinner; but — what shall I do when I see you in the light!”

STALKY & CO.

This short story collection was first published in serial format in the
Windsor Magazine
in 1898, featuring tales of adolescent boys at a British boarding school. The character Beetle, one of the main trio, is partly based on Kipling himself. The charismatic Stalky is based on Lionel Dunsterville.

Kipling and his son, who died tragically fighting in the Great War

CONTENTS

STALKY & CO.

“IN AMBUSH.”

SLAVES OF THE LAMP: PART I.

AN UNSAVORY INTERLUDE.

THE IMPRESSIONISTS.

THE MORAL REFORMERS.

A LITTLE PREP.

THE FLAG OF THEIR COUNTRY.

THE LAST TERM.

SLAVES OF THE LAMP: PART II.

STALKY & CO.

“Let us now praise famous men” —

 Men of little showing —

For their work continueth,

And their work continueth,

 Greater than their knowing.

Western wind and open surge

 Tore us from our mothers;

Flung us on a naked shore

(Twelve bleak houses by the shore!

Seven summers by the shore!)

 ‘Mid two hundred brothers.

There we met with famous men

 Set in office o’er us.

And they beat on us with rods —

Faithfully with many rods —

Daily beat us on with rods —

 For the love they bore us!

Out of Egypt unto Troy —

 Over Himalaya —

Far and sure our bands have gone —

Hy-Brasil or Babylon,

Islands of the Southern Run,

 And cities of Cathaia!

And we all praise famous men —

 Ancients of the College;

For they taught us common sense — -

Tried to teach us common sense —

Truth and God’s Own Common Sense

 Which is more than knowledge!

Each degree of Latitude

 Strung about Creation

Seeth one (or more) of us,

(Of one muster all of us —

Of one master all of us — )

 Keen in his vocation.

This we learned from famous men

 Knowing not its uses

When they showed in daily work

Man must finish off his work —

Right or wrong, his daily work —

 And without excuses.

Servants of the staff and chain,

 Mine and fuse and grapnel —

Some before the face of Kings,

Stand before the face of Kings;

Bearing gifts to divers Kings —

 Gifts of Case and Shrapnel.

This we learned from famous men

 Teaching in our borders.

Who declare’d it was best,

Safest, easiest and best —

Expeditious, wise and best —

 To obey your orders.

Some beneath the further stars

 Bear the greater burden.

Set to serve the lands they rule,

(Save he serve no man may rule)

Serve and love the lands they rule;

 Seeking praise nor guerdon.

This we learned from famous men

 Knowing not we learned it.

Only, as the years went by —

Lonely, as the years went by —

Far from help as years went by

 Plainer we discerned it.

Wherefore praise we famous men

 From whose bays we borrow —

They that put aside Today —

All the joys of their Today —

And with toil of their Today

 Bought for us Tomorrow!

Bless and praise we famous men

 Men of little showing!

For their work continueth

And their work continueth

Broad and deep continueth

 Great beyond their knowing!

Copyright, 1899. by Rudyard Kipling

“IN AMBUSH.”

In summer all right-minded boys built huts in the furze-hill behind the College — little lairs whittled out of the heart of the prickly bushes, full of stumps, odd root-ends, and spikes, but, since they were strictly forbidden, palaces of delight. And for the fifth summer in succession, Stalky, McTurk, and Beetle (this was before they reached the dignity of a study) had built like beavers a place of retreat and meditation, where they smoked.

Now, there was nothing in their characters as known to Mr. Prout, their house-master, at all commanding respect; nor did Foxy, the subtle red-haired school Sergeant, trust them. His business was to wear tennis-shoes, carry binoculars, and swoop hawklike upon evil boys. Had he taken the field alone, that hut would have been raided, for Foxy knew the manners of his quarry; but Providence moved Mr. Prout, whose school-name, derived from the size of his feet, was Hoofer, to investigate on his own account; and it was the cautious Stalky who found the track of his pugs on the very floor of their lair one peaceful afternoon when Stalky would fain have forgotten Prout and his works in a volume of Surtees and a new briar-wood pipe. Crusoe, at sight of the footprint, did not act more swiftly than Stalky. He removed the pipes, swept up all loose match-ends, and departed to warn Beetle and McTurk.

But it was characteristic of the boy that he did not approach his allies till he had met and conferred with little Hartopp, President of the Natural History Society, an institution which Stalky held in contempt, Hartopp was more than surprised when the boy meekly, as he knew how, begged to propose himself, Beetle, and McTurk as candidates; confessed to a long-smothered interest in first-flowerings, early butterflies, and new arrivals, and volunteered, if Mr. Hartopp saw fit, to enter on the new life at once. Being a master, Hartopp was suspicious; but he was also an enthusiast, and his gentle little soul had been galled by chance-heard remarks from the three, and specially Beetle. So he was gracious to that repentant sinner, and entered the three names in his book.