CHAPTER VIIITAMBA IN THE CITY
Tamba, the tame tiger, rearing up on his hind legs to look down into the pig pen, saw the funny look on the face of the animal who had spoken to him.
“What’s that you say?” asked Tamba in a growling voice.
“I said we didn’t have anything to give tigers,” went on the comical pig, and really he was comical, for his one eye had such a funny look as it drooped toward one ear. It seemed to be looking in two ways at once, and that is something you don’t often see in a pig.
“Well, it seems to me I smell something very good,” went on Tamba. “It smells like milk to me.” When he was a little tiger Tamba had liked milk very much, and now, even though he was older, he knew it would be good when he was hungry.
“Yes, you do smell milk,” went on Squinty. “But it is sour.”
“Sour or sweet, it makes no difference to me,” replied Tamba. “I am hungry enough to eat anything.”
“Well, I don’t want to be cross or impolite,” said Squinty, “but there is only enough sour milk for us pigs. We can’t give you any.”
“Ha! Well, I simply must have something to eat!” returned Tamba, and his voice was more growly now. “If I can’t get milk I must have meat. I remember once, in the jungle, eating a little pig who looked something like you. What’s to stop me taking a few bites off you, if you won’t give me any of your milk?”
“Oh, ho! So you think you can bite me, do you?” squealed Squinty. “Well, we’ll see about that!”
Now Squinty was a brave little animal, and he had seen more of the world than some of the other small pigs in the pen. In fact, Squinty had had a number of adventures, and those of you who have read my first book entitled, “Squinty, the Comical Pig,” know that Squinty was not much afraid of anything.
So no sooner did he hear Tamba talk that way, about taking bites, and so on, than Squinty ran to where there was a loose board in the pen, and out he popped.
“Ho! So you think because you’re a big, circus tiger that you can scare me, do you?”squealed Squinty. “Well, I’ll show you that I’m not a bit afraid!”
Now, as it happened, near the pen, where the farmer intended to use it the next day, was a pail of whitewash. It was like thick, white water, and the pail was full of it. Squinty gave one look at the pail of whitewash, and a glance at Tamba, who had taken his forepaws down off the edge of the pen, and was standing on all four feet looking at Squinty.
“There! Take that and see how you like it!” squealed Squinty, and with his strong nose, made for digging down under the ground after roots and things, Squinty upset the pail of whitewash and gave it a push toward Tamba.
The whitewash splashed out, andlots of itsplattered on the tame tiger, so that he was splashed and speckled with spots of white as well as being marked with black and yellow stripes.
“Now how do you like yourself?” asked Squinty of Tamba, as he looked at the tame tiger in the moonlight, for the moon was just coming up. “If you try to bite me or any of my friends I’ll splash some more whitewash on you!”
“You can’t,” said Tamba. “There isn’t any more left in the pail. It’s empty; I can see for myself. I guess I got most of it on me.”
The whitewash splashed out and splattered on the tame tiger
The whitewash splashed out and splattered on the tame tiger
“Well, if I can’t throw whitewash on you I’ll throw something else!” threatened Squinty. “You’ve got to leave us pigs alone!”
“Yes,” said Tamba, “I can see that I’d better. I didn’t know you were such a fierce chap, Squinty.”
“Well, I didn’t mean to be cross,” said the pig. “But when you talked of biting me, why, I just couldn’t help it. I’m sorry I spotted you with white like that.”
“It’s all my fault,” returned Tamba. “I shouldn’t have said anything about biting you. Being splashed with whitewash serves me right. But I am very hungry, and your sour milk smelled very good!”
“I’m afraid there isn’t much left now,” said Squinty. “The pigs were very hungry to-night. But if you’ll come over to the side of the pen, where I broke out to rush at you, I’ll see if there is anything else. Sometimes they throw kitchen table scraps into our trough, and there are bits of meat which we small pigs don’t eat. You may have that, if there is any. Tigers like meat, I’ve heard.”
“Yes,” said Tamba, “I like meat very much. It is about all I can eat, though I could manage to drink some milk—sour or sweet.”
“Come, we’ll go see what there is,” went on Squinty. “When I said we had nothing for tigers I didn’t think about the meat scraps.”
So Squinty led Tamba back to the side of the pen whence the little pig had pushed his way out. Then Squinty explained to the other pigs what had happened.
“Yes, here are some meat scraps,” said one of the pigs, when Squinty had told how hungry Tamba was. “It isn’t very much, though.”
“Even a little will keep me from starving,” said Tamba. “When I get to my jungle I’ll have all I want to eat, but just now it is pretty hard to find enough. In the circus I had plenty.”
“Oh, so you’re from the circus, are you?” asked Squinty. “I used to know some animals in a circus. There was Mappo, the merry monkey.”
“Yes, I have heard of him, too,” said Tamba. “But he isn’t with the show now. Ah, but this meat tastes good!”
The tame tiger was now chewing the scraps the pigs had brushed aside as they did not want them. Tamba did not feel so hungry now, but he did feel queer where the whitewash had splashed on him.
“I’m sorry about that,” said Squinty. “If you go down to the end of the meadow there is a pond, and you can wash off the white splashes. It’s warm enough to take a bath.”
“I’m not very fond of water,” said Tamba, “though I do take a bath now and then. I guessI can wash off the white stuff by dipping my paws in the water and rubbing them over my striped coat. I’ll do it.”
And that is what Tamba did after he had eaten up all the meat scraps there were in the pigs’ pen. Then he said good-by to Squinty and the others and started off again.
“I must get to my jungle,” said the tiger. “I have been away from the circus quite a while now, and, as yet, I have not come to the jungle.”
“But you have had lots of adventures,” said Squinty, the comical pig, for Tamba had told of some of the things that had happened to him. “You have had almost as many adventures as I, Tamba. I suppose you can call that an adventure, when I splashed the whitewash on you.”
“Yes,” agreed Tamba, “I think that, most certainly, was an adventure. I don’t want another like it, though.”
So Tamba traveled on again. He thought, if he went far enough, he must, some day or other, come to the jungle where he used to live. But he did not know which way to go, and, often as not, he went wrong. However, as Squinty said, the tame tiger was having many adventures.
He had a queer one the second night after he had met Squinty, and this is the way it happened. Tamba had been roaming along in the night, after having caught something to eat inthe woods, and at last he came out on a road which stretched far and away in the moonlight.
“That is a long road to travel,” thought Tamba. “I think I will take a rest before I go down it any farther. I’ll hide somewhere and wait until morning.”
Tamba looked around for a place to hide, and saw a big pile of hay. He knew it was hay, since he had often seen it in the circus tent, and he remembered having hidden in the hay in the barn.
“But this hay isn’t in a barn,” said Tamba, as he looked at the pile. “It seems to be on a wagon, as my cage used to be.”
And that is just what it was. Tamba had come to a farm, and a little way down the road from the farmhouse was a wagon loaded with a great pile of hay. The farmer had loaded the hay on the wagon the evening before, so as to have it all ready to hitch his horses to and pull it into the city early in the morning. The farmer was going to sell the hay in the big city.
“Well, that hay will make a nice place for me to sleep,” thought Tamba. He gave a big jump, and landed on top of the load of hay. There were, as yet, no horses hitched to the wagon. That would be done in the morning.
Tamba pawed out a nice, cozy bed for himself on top of the load of hay, burrowed away downin, pulled some hay over him as a covering, and went to sleep.
How long he slept the tame tiger did not know. But when he suddenly awoke, he saw the sun shining, and he heard a rumble and roar all about him.
“What’s this? Where am I? What has happened?” thought Tamba.
He saw the hay all about him. He felt the jolting and sway of the wagon. The roaring sound became louder. Tamba looked out between the wisps of hay. He saw a strange sight.
“Why, I’m in a big city!” thought the tiger. “The load of hay has come to the city, and I came with it! Oh, dear, I am farther than ever from my jungle! What shall I do?”