Ossaroo had never in his life climbed the mighty Himalayas. He was a native of the hot plains – a hunter of the jungles – but for all that the botanist had engaged him for a guide. It was not so much a guide to enable them to find their route, as one who could assist them in their daily duties, who knew the way of life peculiar to this part of the world, who knew how to keep house in, the open air, Ossaroo was the very man of all others.
Moreover the expedition was just to his mind. He had long gazed upon the gigantic Himalaya from the distant plains – he had looked upon its domes and peaks glittering white in the robes of eternal snow, and had often desired to make a hunting excursion thither. But no good opportunity had presented itself, although through all his life he had lived within sight of those stupendous peaks. He, therefore, joyfully accepted the offer of the young botanist, and became “hunter and guide” to the expedition.
There was still another of the hunter-race in that company – one as much addicted to the chase as either Ossaroo or Caspar. This was a quadruped as tall as a mastiff dog, but whose black-and-tan colour and long pendulous ears bespoke him of a different race – the race of the hound. He was, in truth, a splendid hound, whose heavy jaws had ere now dragged to the ground many a red stag, and many a wild Bavarian boar. A dog to be valued was Fritz, and highly did his master esteem him. Caspar was that master. Caspar would not have exchanged Fritz for the choicest elephant in all India.
Chapter Four.
Is it Blood?
Behold the plant-hunter and his little party en route!
It was the same day on which they had engaged the guide Ossaroo, and this was their first journey together. Each carried his knapsack and blanket strapped to his back – and as each was to be his own travelling attendant, there was not much extra baggage. Ossaroo was some paces in the advance, and Karl and Caspar habitually walked side by side, where the nature of the path would permit. Fritz usually trotted along in the rear, though he sometimes busked up to the side of the guide, as if by instinct he recognised the born hunter. Although the acquaintance was but a short one, already had Fritz become a favourite with the “shikarree.”
As they trudged along, the attention of Caspar was drawn to some red spots that appeared at intervals upon the path. It was a smooth road, and a very small object could be discerned upon it. The spots had all the appearance of blood-spots, as if quite freshly dropped!
“Blood it is,” remarked Karl, who was also observing the spots.
“I wonder whether it’s been a man or a beast,” said Caspar, after an interval.
“Well, brother,” rejoined Karl, “I think it must have been a beast, and a pretty large one too; I have been noticing it for more than a mile, and the quantity of blood I’ve observed would have emptied the veins of a giant. I fancy it must have been an elephant that has been bleeding.”
“But there’s no trace of an elephant,” replied Caspar; “at least no tracks that are fresh; and this blood appears to be quite newly spilled.”
“You are right, Caspar,” rejoined his brother.
“It cannot have been an elephant, nor a camel neither. What may it have been, I wonder?”
At this interrogatory both the boys directed their glances along the road, in the direction in which they were going, hoping to discover some explanation of the matter. There was no object before them as far as they could see except Ossaroo. The Hindoo alone was upon the road. The blood could not be from him – surely not? Such a loss of blood would have killed the shikarree long ago. So thought Karl and Caspar.
They had fixed their eyes, however, upon Ossaroo, and just at that moment they saw him lean his head to one side, as though he had spat upon the ground. They marked the spot, and what was their astonishment on coming up and discovering upon the road another red spot exactly like those they had been noticing. Beyond a doubt Ossaroo was spitting blood!
To make sure, they watched him a little longer, and about a hundred yards farther on they saw him repeat his red expectoration!
They became considerably alarmed for the life of their guide.
“Poor Ossaroo!” exclaimed they, “he cannot live much longer after the loss of so much blood!”
And as this remark was made, both ran forward calling upon him to stop.
The guide wheeled round, and halted, wondering what was the matter. He quickly unslung his bow and placed an arrow to the string, fancying that they were attacked by some enemy. The hound, too, catching the alarm, came scampering up, and was soon upon the ground.
“What’s the matter, Ossaroo?” demanded Karl and Caspar in a breath.
“Matter, Sahibs! me knowee noting – matter.”
“But what ails you? are you ill?”
“No, Sahibs! me not ill – why my lords askee?”
“But this blood? See?”
They pointed to the red saliva on the road.
At this the shikarree burst out laughing, still further perplexing his interrogators. His laughter was not intended to be disrespectful to the young “Sahibs,” only that he was unable to restrain himself on perceiving the mistake they had made.
“Pawnee, Sahibs,” said he, drawing from his pouch a small roll like a cartridge of tobacco-leaves, and taking a bite off the end of it, to convince them that it was it – the “pawn” – which had imparted to his saliva such a peculiar colour.
The boys at once comprehended the nature of their mistake. The roll shown them by Ossaroo was the celebrated betel; and Ossaroo himself was a “betel-chewer,” in common with many millions of his countrymen, and still more millions of the natives of Assam, Burmah, Siam, China, Cochin China, Malacca, the Philippine, and other islands of the great Indian Archipelago.
Of course the boys were now curious to know what the betel was, and the shikarree proceeded to give them full information about this curious commodity.
The “betel,” or “pawn” as it is called by the Hindoos, is a compound substance, and its component parts are a leaf, a nut, and some quicklime. The leaf is taken from an evergreen shrub, which is cultivated in India for this very purpose. Ossaroo stated that it is usually cultivated under a shed made of bamboos, and wattled all around the sides to exclude the strong rays of the sun. The plant requires heat and a damp atmosphere, but exposure to the sun or dry winds would wither it, and destroy the flavour and pungency of the leaf. It requires great care in the cultivation, and every day a man enters the shed by a little door and carefully cleans the plants. The shed where it grows is usually a favourite lurking-place for poisonous snakes, and this diurnal visit of the betel-grower to his crop is rather a dangerous business; but the article is so profitable, and the mature crop yields such a fine price, that both the labour and the danger are disregarded. Ossaroo chanced to have some of the leaves in his pouch still in an entire state. He only knew them as “pawn-leaves,” but the botanist at once recognised a rare hothouse plant, belonging to the pepper tribe, Piperacea. It is in fact a species of Piper, the Piper-betel, very closely allied to the climbing shrub which produces the common black-pepper of commerce, and having deep green oval and sharply-pointed leaves of very similar appearance to the leaves of the latter. Another species called Piper siriboa is also cultivated for the same purpose. So much for one of the component parts of this singular Oriental “quid.”
“Now,” continued Ossaroo, facing to one side of the path and pointing upwards, “if Sahibs lookee up, dey see de pawn-nut.”
The boys looked as directed, and beheld with interest a grove of noble palms, each of them rising to the height of fifty feet, with a smooth cylindrical shank, and a beautiful tuft of pinnated leaves at the top. These leaves were full two yards in breadth, by several in length. Even the pinnae, or leaflets, were