The langurs , the big gray-whiskered monkeys of the Himalayas , were , naturally , the first , for they are alive with curiosity ; and when they had upset the begging-bowl , and rolled it round the floor , and tried their teeth on the brass-handled crutch , and made faces at the antelope skin , they decided that the human being who sat so still was harmless . At evening , they would leap down from the pines , and beg with their hands for things to eat , and then swing off in graceful curves . They liked the warmth of the fire , too , and huddled round it till Purun Bhagat had to push them aside to throw on more fuel ; and in the morning , as often as not , he would find a furry ape sharing his blanket . All day long , one or other of the tribe would sit by his side , staring out at the snows , crooning and looking unspeakably wise and sorrowful . After the monkeys came the barasingh , that big deer which is like our red deer , but stronger . He wished to rub off the velvet of his horns against the cold stones of Kali 's statue , and stamped his feet when he saw the man at the shrine . But Purun Bhagat never moved , and , little by little , the royal stag edged up and nuzzled his shoulder . Purun Bhagat slid one cool hand along the hot antlers , and the touch soothed the fretted beast , who bowed his head , and Purun Bhagat very softly rubbed and ravelled off the velvet . Afterward , the barasingh brought his doe and fawn -- gentle things that mumbled on the holy man 's blanket -- or would come alone at night , his eyes green in the fire-flicker , to take his share of fresh walnuts . At last , the musk-deer , the shyest and almost the smallest of the deerlets , came , too , her big rabbity ears erect ; even brindled , silent mushick-nabha must needs find out what the light in the shrine meant , and drop out her moose-like nose into Purun Bhagat 's lap , coming and going with the shadows of the fire . Purun Bhagat called them all `` my brothers , '' and his low call of `` Bhai ! Bhai ! '' would draw them from the forest at noon if they were within ear shot . The Himalayan black bear , moody and suspicious -- Sona , who has the V-shaped white mark under his chin -- passed that way more than once ; and since the Bhagat showed no fear , Sona showed no anger , but watched him , and came closer , and begged a share of the caresses , and a dole of bread or wild berries . Often , in the still dawns , when the Bhagat would climb to the very crest of the pass to watch the red day walking along the peaks of the snows , he would find Sona shuffling and grunting at his heels , thrusting , a curious fore-paw under fallen trunks , and bringing it away with a WHOOF of impatience ; or his early steps would wake Sona where he lay curled up , and the great brute , rising erect , would think to fight , till he heard the Bhagat 's voice and knew his best friend . Nearly all hermits and holy men who live apart from the big cities have the reputation of being able to work miracles with the wild things , but all the miracle lies in keeping still , in never making a hasty movement , and , for a long time , at least , in never looking directly at a visitor . The villagers saw the outline of the barasingh stalking like a shadow through the dark forest behind the shrine ; saw the minaul , the Himalayan pheasant , blazing in her best colours before Kali 's statue ; and the langurs on their haunches , inside , playing with the walnut shells . Some of the children , too , had heard Sona singing to himself , bear-fashion , behind the fallen rocks , and the Bhagat 's reputation as miracle-worker stood firm . Yet nothing was farther from his mind than miracles . He believed that all things were one big Miracle , and when a man knows that much he knows something to go upon .
He knew for a certainty that there was nothing great and nothing little in this world : and day and XXXXX he strove to think out his way into the heart of things , back to the place whence his soul had come .
Bhai Sona WHOOF antlers deerlets first morning musk-deer night noon