Esme

by H.H. Munro (SAKI)

　　

---

"All hunting stories are the same," said Clovis; "just as all Turf stories arethe same, and all--""My hunting story isn't a bit like any you've ever heard," said the Baroness."It happened quite a while ago, when I was about twenty-three. I wasn't livingapart from my husband then; you see, neither of us could afford to make theother a separate allowance. In spite of everything that proverbs may say,poverty keeps together more homes than it breaks up. But we always hunted withdifferent packs. All this has nothing to do with the story.""We haven't arrived at the meet yet. I suppose there was a meet," said Clovis."Of course there was a meet," said the Baroness; "all the usual crowd werethere, especially Constance Broddle. Constance is one of those strapping floridgirls that go so well with autumn scenery or Christmas decorations in church. 'Ifeel a presentiment that something dreadful is going to happen,' she said to me;'am I looking pale?'"She was looking about as pale as a beetroot that has suddenly heard bad news." 'You're looking nicer than usual,' I said, 'but that's so easy for you.'Before she had got the right bearings of this remark we had settled down tobusiness; hounds had found a fox lying out in some gorse-bushes.""I knew it," said Clovis; "in every fox-hunting story that I've ever heardthere's been a fox and some gorse-bushes.""Constance and I were well mounted," continued the Baroness serenely, "and wehad no difficulty in keeping ourselves in the first flight, though it was afairly stiff run. Towards the finish, however, we must have held rather tooindependent a line, for we lost the hounds, and found ourselves ploddingaimlessly along miles away from anywhere. It was fairly exasperating, and mytemper was beginning to let itself go by inches, when on pushing our way throughan accommodating hedge we were gladdened by the sight of hounds in full cry in ahollow just beneath us." 'There they go,' cried Constance, and then added in a gasp, 'In Heaven's name,what are they hunting?'"It was certainly no mortal fox. It stood more than twice as high, had a short,ugly head, and an enormous thick neck." 'It's a hyena,' I cried; 'it must have escaped from Lord Pabham's Park.'"At that moment the hunted beast turned and faced its pursuers, and the hounds(there were only about six couple of them) stood round in a half-circle andlooked foolish. Evidently they had broken away from the rest of the pack on thetrail of this alien scent, and were not quite sure how to treat their quarry nowthey had got him."The hyena hailed our approach with unmistakable relief and demonstrations offriendliness. It had probably been accustomed to uniform kindness from humans,while its first experience of a pack of hounds had left a bad impression. Thehounds looked more than ever embarrassed as their quarry paraded its suddenintimacy with us, and the faint toot of a horn in the distance was seized on asa welcome signal for unobtrusive departure. Constance and I and the hyena wereleft alone in the gathering twilight." 'What are we to do?' asked Constance." 'What a person you are for questions,' I said." 'Well, we can't stay here all night with a hyena,' she retorted." 'I don't know what your ideas of comfort are,' I said; 'but I shouldn't thinkof staying here all night even without a hyena. My home may be an unhappy one,but at least it has hot and cold water laid on, and domestic service, and otherconveniences which we shouldn't find here. We had better make for that ridge oftrees to the right; I imagine the Crowley road is just beyond.'"We trotted off slowly along a faintly marked cart-track, with the beastfollowing cheerfully at our heels." 'What on earth are we to do with the hyena?' came the inevitable question." 'What does one generally do with hyenas?' I asked crossly." 'I've never had anything to do with one before,' said Constance." 'Well, neither have I. If we even knew its sex we might give it a name.Perhaps we might call it Esme. That would do in either case."There was still sufficient daylight for us to distinguish wayside objects, andour listless spirits gave an upward perk as we came upon a small half-nakedgipsy brat picking blackberries from a low-growing bush. The sudden apparitionof two horsewomen and a hyena set it off crying, and in any case we shouldscarcely have gleaned any useful geographical information from that source; butthere was a probability that we might strike a gipsy encampment somewhere alongour route. We rode on hopefully but uneventfully for another mile or so." 'I wonder what the child was doing there,' said Constance presently." 'Picking blackberries. Obviously.'" 'I don't like the way it cried,' pursued Constance; 'somehow its wail keepsringing in my ears.'"I did not chide Constance for her morbid fancies; as a matter of fact the samesensation, of being pursued by a persistent fretful wail, had been forcingitself on my rather over-tired nerves. For company's sake I hulloed to Esme, whohad lagged somewhat behind. With a few springy bounds he drew up level, and thenshot past us."The wailing accompaniment was explained. The gipsy child was firmly, and Iexpect painfully, held in his jaws." 'Merciful Heaven!' screamed Constance, 'what on earth shall we do? What are weto do?'"I am perfectly certain that at the Last Judgment Constance will ask morequestions than any of the examining Seraphs." 'Can't we do something?' she persisted tearfully, as Esme cantered easilyalong in front of our tired horses."Personally I was doing everything that occurred to me at the moment. I stormedand scolded and coaxed in English and French and gamekeeper language; I madeabsurd, ineffectual cuts in the air with my thongless hunting-crop; I hurled mysandwich case at the brute; in fact, I really don't know what more I could havedone. And still we lumbered on through the deepening dusk, with that darkuncouth shape lumbering ahead of us, and a drone of lugubrious music floating inour ears. Suddenly Esme bounded aside into some thick bushes, where we could notfollow; the wail rose to a shriek and then stopped altogether. This part of thestory I always hurry over, because it is really rather horrible. When the beastjoined us again, after an absence of a few minutes, there was an air of patientunderstanding about him, as though he knew that he had done something of whichwe disapproved, but which he felt to be thoroughly justifiable." 'How can you let that ravening beast trot by your side?' asked Constance. Shewas looking more than ever like an albino beetroot." 'In the first place, I can't prevent it,' I said; 'and in the second place,whatever else he may be, I doubt if he's ravening at the present moment.'"Constance shuddered. 'Do you think the poor little thing suffered much?' cameanother of her futile questions." 'The indications were all that way,' I said; 'on the other hand, of course, itmay have been crying from sheer temper. Children sometimes do.'"It was nearly pitch-dark when we emerged suddenly into the high road. A flashof lights and the whir of a motor went past us at the same moment atuncomfortably close quarters. A thud and a sharp screeching yell followed asecond later. The car drew up, and when I had ridden back to the spot I found ayoung man bending over a dark motionless mass lying by the roadside." 'You have killed my Esme,' I exclaimed bitterly." 'I'm so awfully sorry,' said the young man; 'I keep dogs myself, so I knowwhat you must feel about it. I'll do anything I can in reparation.'" 'Please bury him at once,' I said; 'that much I think I may ask of you." 'Bring the spade, William,' he called to the chauffeur. Evidently hastyroadside interments were contingencies that had been provided against."The digging of a sufficiently large grave took some little time. 'I say, what amagnificent fellow,' said the motorist as the corpse was rolled over into thetrench. 'I'm afraid he must have been rather a valuable animal.'" 'He took second in the puppy class at Birmingham last year,' I saidresolutely.Constance snorted loudly." 'Don't cry, dear,' I said brokenly; 'it was all over in a moment. He couldn'thave suffered much.'" 'Look here,' said the young fellow desperately, 'you simply must let me dosomething by way of reparation.'"I refused sweetly, but as he persisted I let him have my address."Of course, we kept our own counsel as to the earlier episodes of the evening.Lord Pabham never advertised the loss of his hyena; when a strictly fruit-eatinganimal strayed from his park a year or two previously he was called upon to givecompensation in eleven cases of sheep-worrying and practically to re-stock hisneighbours' poultry-yards, and an escaped hyena would have mounted up tosomething on the scale of a Government grant. The gipsies were equallyunobtrusive over their missing offspring; I don't suppose in large encampmentsthey really know to a child or two how many they've got."The Baroness paused reflectively, and then continued:"There was a sequel to the adventure, though. I got through the post a charminglittle diamond broach, with the name Esme set in a sprig of rosemary.Incidentally, too, I lost the friendship of Constance Broddle. You see, when Isold the brooch I quite properly refused to give her any share of the proceeds.I pointed out that the Esme part of the affair was my own invention, and thehyena part of it belonged to Lord Pabham, if it really was his hyena, of which,of course, I've no proof."

---

Esme was featured as TheShort Story of the Day on Mon, Aug 24, 2015

---