Lhoks, the panther, peered sullenly and discontentedly forth from behind bars of his cage at the curious crowd of people who stared in at him, and baring his sharp white teeth angrily, snarled at them crossly. Again he resumed his uneasy pad, pad, padding walk, up and down the narrow floor of his prison, which, with six other similar gaily painted cages occupied by other unfortunate wild animals, belonged to a small travelling menagerie.
Lhoks was a handsome animal, and the boys and girls who gathered in crowds around his cage gazed at him with round eyes of admiring awe. He happened to be a very large specimen of his kind, measuring about eleven feet in length. His coat was reddish-brown, now grown somewhat shabby, owing to his long confinement in the narrow cage. A small patch of white fur marked either side of his muzzle. His snarling lips showed jet black, also the tip of his tail, which he lashed angrily. His eyes, which Lhoks half closed when angry or cross, were of gleaming greenish yellow, showing golden lights. Over his cage door one might read: "Panther, or American Lion."
It happened three years before, that Lhoks and two other small panther cubs had been left alone by the old panthers, who went off to hunt; feeling lonely, but full of mischief and play, they came out of their safe den, to frolic upon a wide flat ledge. There upon the rock they all played together happily, rolling over each other and cuffing with their clumsy kitten-like paws. And there the hunter came across them, and so young and unafraid were the small panthers that they allowed the man to carry them off. When the old panthers returned to the den it was quite empty; their babies were gone. For days and days they followed vainly the long trail of the robber, with red, revengeful eyes, but they never caught up with him.
Two of the cubs died in captivity, but Lhoks, stronger and more lusty than the others, lived. For three years he had travelled with the menagerie, but he hated the life, and with all the longing in his heart he would dream, in his wild way, of the dark, sweet scented woods, the safe retreats where he might hide in secret, silent places of his forest. Most of all did he hate the blare of the loud music, which made him howl, and deeply too did he resent the staring eyes of the curious crowds. Sullenly he would glower back at them. Often he felt weak and sick in the close confining quarters of his hated cage; so much so, that he would stretch out his tawny body miserably upon the floor and lie there for hours. But alas for poor Lhoks during show hours, should he chance to appear stupid and sleepy and ill when the people came to stare at him! Then someone was sure to reach into his cage with a long red pole, to the end of which was attached a cruel, sharp spike, and then they would poke and prod the poor animal until he got upon his feet. Just one sharp prod of the spike was usually enough to make Lhoks jump up and snarl and begin once more his endless pacing back and forth, from end to end of his prison.
Then the delighted crowd would shiver and exclaim at his dreadful fierceness, and often poke him playfully with canes or umbrellas, just to make him yell loudly. The howls of Lhoks the panther were terrifying, and when he screamed out it usually stirred up all the other animals of the menagerie.
If Lhoks hated the crowds, he soon learned to dread most of all the long, overland journeys by rail. Then the cages would all be loaded upon goods trucks, and for days they would rumble and jolt and sway dizzily in their close, ill-smelling quarters; if water was not handy, sometimes the attendants neglected them, and forgot that the poor caged things were very thirsty. Often at the end of a trip they arrived faint, car-sick, and so exhausted they were barely able to stagger to their cramped legs.
The season for the menagerie was drawing to its close, and they were about to go East for the winter. The glittering cages had been opened to the public for the last time in a small Western town, where the wondering boys and girls had taken their last look at Lhoks, the panther, and his wild companions. The last cage had been loaded upon the truck, and the long, heavy train started out upon its journey. Old King, the lion, had died, and most of the other animals showed only too plainly the effects of their long confinement and hard life. The tawny coat of poor Lhoks was shabbiest of all. It actually looked moth-eaten in places, and his sides showed plainly enough the scars which the sharp spike had made. His ribs were seen through his lean hide, for he had almost lost his appetite; he felt weak and discouraged. So he just lay stretched listlessly upon the floor of his cage, while the long train jolted and screamed its way across the flat country of the West. Fortunately, the cage of the panther had been placed in such a position that Lhoks soon discovered that by standing upon his hind legs he could actually peer out through his small, grated window at the country through which they journeyed. In this respect, he was more lucky than the others, for the gazelle and hyena cages had been placed with their small, ventilating windows pushed up against the other cages, so they could not look out.
For many days, whenever Lhoks chanced to look forth from his small window, they appeared to be passing over the same flat, uninteresting plain, although occasionally he caught a fleeting glimpse of forest and hills in the distance. At night he would lie flat gazing up longingly, managing to catch a peep at the little winking stars, and sometimes, when it was bright moonlight, he would grow very restless and unhappy, pacing up and down, howling dismally. How he hated the commotion and loud noises about the goods yards, when their train was shunted back and forth over points, creaking and squealing, with much loose rattling of rusty iron couplings, and yells from the railwaymen, who swung red-eyed lanterns, and ran swiftly and lightly over the tops of the cages.
Finally, after many weary days, for their train was a very slow one, Lhoks began to brighten up, for the air which now found its way into his close cage had begun to change and freshen; now he would stand at his small, barred window and sniff in long drafts of it with keen delight. Also, Lhoks saw that they had now left the disagreeable, flat country, and were speeding through wild forests, where giant spruce and pines grew dense and tall. Off in the distance there were glimpses of purple chains of mountains, and rolling, peaceful hills. From that time on, Lhoks became a changed animal; as by magic all his weariness appeared to vanish; he was once more himself, wild and alert. All night he would stand now at the window just breathing in the tonic of this fine, new air, the bracing odours which came from thousands of fragrant balsams and pines. For, although Lhoks did not suspect it, he happened to be passing, at that time, right through the very heart of his own home country, the land where perhaps even then his parents were still roving wild and free through the hidden jungles of the great North woods.
The long, snake-like train rumbled and screeched its way through the night, hooting and echoing through the deep mountain cuts, then gliding out over long moonlit stretches, where moist odours from the woods came in waves to poor Lhoks in his prison cage.
"Chuck, chuck, chuck-chuck, chuck," repeated the iron truck wheels, over and over again, almost like the rhythm of some tiresome song. Then, suddenly, on ahead, the great engine began to send forth hoot after hoot, strange alarm cries, whistlings and screechings which echoed through the silent forest. Lhoks instinctively knew something had happened, and leaped to his feet. The next moment the heavy truck, cages and all, had been tossed from the rails and lay a splintered mass at the foot of a deep cutting.
Something wonderful happened to Lhoks, the panther, for his cage had chanced to fall right side up, and one wall of it had actually fallen out; he was free—free at last. It took a few seconds for the poor wild thing to discover that he was a prisoner no longer, after spending so many long, hateful years in his close cage. But very soon all his old, wild nature asserted itself, and he made out that there were tall waving pines all about him, instead of walls and iron bars, and beneath a dense, black jungle of spruce—fine places to hide. Gathering up all his strength, with one long leap Lhoks, the captive, bounded off to his freedom and the shelter of the woods.
Of course, in the excitement which followed the wreck, no one thought of looking for the panther; for, as it happened, he was the only animal which had managed to escape alive. Lhoks could not travel so very fast at first, for he had a touch of rheumatism, and his legs were almost stiff from long confinement, while his usually sharp claws were quite worn off and dulled. So he skulked along the ground, hiding himself in some deep, wooded retreat far away from the shouts of the railwaymen. Having rested he finally began to take some interest in his appearance, groomed his roughened coat and sharpened his dull claws upon a log. Suddenly he realized that he was hungry. Oh, how delightedly did he quench his thirst at a beautiful, fern-grown pool. Then one day he discovered the trail of a lone wood-cutter and followed it for hours, because he began to feel lonely, and also was hungry. Perhaps he imagined that the man would feed him, as had his keeper. It was lucky for poor, trusting Lhoks that the man did not spy him, or he might have been shot, for the man would surely have supposed the panther was trailing him for its prey.
Lhoks forsook the man's trail finally, and that day he managed to catch a rabbit, which served him very well. For weeks so wandered the poor, solitary panther all alone over the wild forest trails. Each day fresh strength and courage came to him; already his tawny coat had lost its roughness; the new hair was coming in, filling the deep scars upon his sides with soft, fine fur. Suddenly he began to feel so very happy that for sheer playfulness, and because of his loneliness, he would play kittenishly, rolling and pawing about a round stone which he found; springing high in the air he would often chase his own shadow down the moonlit trails; occasionally, he would strive to gain some almost forgotten scent, then he would lift his black muzzle and utter a long, lonely yell—a cry in the night, once heard, never forgotten, this yell of a panther—just a pleading cry for his lost companions for whom he yearned.
Once Lhoks met with an encounter which he never forgot. He happened upon a round ball of curious appearance which lay right in his path, and feeling in a playful mood, he boldly jumped at the thing, tossing it about. Then suddenly the bundle unrolled itself, an ugly blunt snout appeared, and two sullen angry eyes glared at him insolently. Before he could back away, a prickly tail slapped him smartly right across his soft, black muzzle, and it was filled with quills. After that, Lhoks, the panther, never forgot how Unk-Wunk, the porcupine, looked when he rolled himself into a ball and went to sleep upon the trail. It became harder to find food down in the lowlands, so Lhoks took to the mountain passes, and thus it happened, one memorable day, he chanced upon a strangely familiar, alluring scent. For a day he trailed it, drawing gradually nearer and nearer, and as he found the scent keener, Lhoks began to feel greatly excited, filled with courage and hope, for he had stumbled across an old trail of one of his own kindred.
SUDDENLY THE BALL UNROLLED ITSELF, AND AN UGLY BLUNT SNOUT APPEARED.
SUDDENLY THE BALL UNROLLED ITSELF,
AND AN UGLY BLUNT SNOUT APPEARED.
With his wild senses all alert, Lhoks now continued to follow patiently the trail. It brought him at last out upon a plateau, or clearing. Closer and closer to the edge of the ledgy plateau crept Lhoks, now crawling low upon his stomach, exactly like a cat. Then, having gained the edge, hanging his great tawny head over the rock, he peered with curious, wistful eyes at the strangely beautiful sight spread just beneath him. Upon a jutting rock frolicked five panther cubs; little furry creatures they were, barred with dark tiger-like stripes, as are all young panthers. There in the sunshine they were playing innocently, while Lhoks watched them wistfully and anxiously, with half-shut, curious yellow eyes, his whole body shaking and trembling with nervous longing to be with them. Even the tip of his tail lashed the rock frantically, so interested had he become in the kitten cubs. They were quite alone, for the mother panther, having lost her mate, was even now away seeking food for them.
At last, unable to withstand the cunning ways of the cubs an instant longer, Lhoks leaped lightly down among them, and so trusting were they that he became acquainted with them at once. When the mother panther returned, she found a stranger with her babies, playing with them, letting them roll over him and tease him roughly, mauling him about as they would, while Lhoks, the lonely one, lay stretched out contentedly purring for sheer happiness. Strangely enough the mother panther did not resent the appearance of Lhoks; perhaps she imagined he would be useful in helping her forage for food for her family. At any rate, she welcomed him with peaceful purrs, and so all was well. Thus did Lhoks, the panther, come back to his kindred once again in the heart of the great forest.