Puck of Pook's Hill by Rudyard Kipling


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Page 24

Witta saw the gold on the bank; he was loath to leave it. "Sirs," said
he (no man had spoken till then), "yonder is what we have come so far
and so painfully to find, laid out to our very hand. Let us row in while
these Devils bewail themselves, and at least bear off what we may."

'Bold as a wolf, cunning as a fox was Witta! He set four archers on the
foredeck to shoot the Devils if they should leap from the tree, which
was close to the bank. He manned ten oars a-side, and bade them watch
his hand to row in or back out, and so coaxed he them toward the bank.
But none would set foot ashore, though the gold was within ten paces. No
man is hasty to his hanging! They whimpered at their oars like beaten
hounds, and Witta bit his fingers for rage.

'Said Hugh of a sudden, "Hark!" At first we thought it was the buzzing
of the glittering flies on the water; but it grew loud and fierce, so
that all men heard.'

'What?' said Dan and Una.

'It was the Sword.' Sir Richard patted the smooth hilt. 'It sang as a
Dane sings before battle. "I go," said Hugh, and he leaped from the bows
and fell among the gold. I was afraid to my four bones' marrow, but for
shame's sake I followed, and Thorkild of Borkum leaped after me. None
other came. "Blame me not," cried Witta behind us, "I must abide by my
ship." We three had no time to blame or praise. We stooped to the gold
and threw it back over our shoulders, one hand on our swords and one eye
on the tree, which nigh overhung us.

'I know not how the Devils leaped down, or how the fight began. I heard
Hugh cry: "Out! out!" as though he were at Santlache again; I saw
Thorkild's steel cap smitten off his head by a great hairy hand, and I
felt an arrow from the ship whistle past my ear. They say that till
Witta took his sword to the rowers he could not bring his ship inshore;
and each one of the four archers said afterwards that he alone had
pierced the Devil that fought me. I do not know. I went to it in my
mail-shirt, which saved my skin. With long-sword and belt-dagger I
fought for the life against a Devil whose very feet were hands, and who
whirled me back and forth like a dead branch. He had me by the waist, my
arms to my side, when an arrow from the ship pierced him between the
shoulders, and he loosened grip. I passed my sword twice through him,
and he crutched himself away between his long arms, coughing and
moaning. Next, as I remember, I saw Thorkild of Borkum, bare-headed and
smiling, leaping up and down before a Devil that leaped and gnashed his
teeth. Then Hugh passed, his sword shifted to his left hand, and I
wondered why I had not known that Hugh was a left-handed man; and
thereafter I remembered nothing till I felt spray on my face, and we
were in sunshine on the open sea. That was twenty days after.'

'What had happened? Did Hugh die?'the children asked.

'Never was such a fight fought by christened man,' said Sir Richard. 'An
arrow from the ship had saved me from my Devil, and Thorkild of Borkum
had given back before his Devil, till the bowmen on the ship could shoot
it all full of arrows from near by; but Hugh's Devil was cunning, and
had kept behind trees, where no arrow could reach. Body to body there,
by stark strength of sword and hand, had Hugh slain him, and, dying, the
Thing had clenched his teeth on the sword. Judge what teeth they were!'

Sir Richard turned the sword again that the children might see the two
great chiselled gouges on either side of the blade.

'Those same teeth met in Hugh's right arm and side,' Sir Richard went
on. 'I? Oh, I had no more than a broken foot and a fever. Thorkild's ear
was bitten, but Hugh's arm and side clean withered away. I saw him where
he lay along, sucking a fruit in his left hand. His flesh was wasted off
his bones, his hair was patched with white, and his hand was blue-veined
like a woman's. He put his left arm round my neck and whispered, "Take
my sword. It has been thine since Hastings, O my brother, but I can
never hold hilt again." We lay there on the high deck talking of
Santlache, and, I think, of every day since Santlache, and it came so
that we both wept. I was weak, and he little more than a shadow.

'"Nay--nay," said Witta, at the helm-rail. "Gold is a good right arm to
any man. Look--look at the gold!" He bade Thorkild show us the gold and
the elephants' teeth, as though we had been children. He had brought
away all the gold on the bank, and twice as much more, that the people
of the village gave him for slaying the Devils. They worshipped us as
Gods, Thorkild told me: it was one of their old women healed up Hugh's
poor arm.'

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Sun 6th Jul 2025, 7:44