<h2 id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII<br/> <small>TAMBA IN THE CITY</small></h2>
<p class="cap">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.</p>
<p>“What’s that you say?” asked Tamba in a
growling voice.</p>
<p>“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.</p>
<p>“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.</p>
<p>“Yes, you do smell milk,” went on Squinty.
“But it is sour.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_75"></SPAN>[75]</span></p>
<p>“Sour or sweet, it makes no difference to me,”
replied Tamba. “I am hungry enough to eat
anything.”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“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?”</p>
<p>“Oh, ho! So you think you can bite me, do
you?” squealed Squinty. “Well, we’ll see about
that!”</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“Ho! So you think because you’re a big, circus
tiger that you can scare me, do you?”<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_76"></SPAN>[76]</span>
squealed Squinty. “Well, I’ll show you that
I’m not a bit afraid!”</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“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.</p>
<p><SPAN href="#i_p077">The whitewash splashed out, and</SPAN> lots of it
<SPAN href="#i_p077">splattered on the tame tiger</SPAN>, so that he was
splashed and speckled with spots of white as
well as being marked with black and yellow
stripes.</p>
<p>“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!”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_77"></SPAN>[77]</span></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i_p077.jpg" alt="" title="" /> <br/> <div class="caption"><SPAN href="#Page_76">The whitewash splashed out and splattered on the tame tiger</SPAN></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_78"></SPAN>[78-<br/>79]</span></p>
<p>“Well, if I can’t throw whitewash on you I’ll
throw something else!” threatened Squinty.
“You’ve got to leave us pigs alone!”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Tamba, “I can see that I’d better.
I didn’t know you were such a fierce chap,
Squinty.”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“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!”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_80"></SPAN>[80]</span></p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I have heard of him, too,” said Tamba.
“But he isn’t with the show now. Ah, but this
meat tastes good!”</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“I’m not very fond of water,” said Tamba,
“though I do take a bath now and then. I guess<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_81"></SPAN>[81]</span>
I can wash off the white stuff by dipping my
paws in the water and rubbing them over my
striped coat. I’ll do it.”</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” agreed Tamba, “I think that, most certainly,
was an adventure. I don’t want another
like it, though.”</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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 in<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_82"></SPAN>[82]</span>
the woods, and at last he came out on a road
which stretched far and away in the moonlight.</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“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.</p>
<p>Tamba pawed out a nice, cozy bed for himself
on top of the load of hay, burrowed away down<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_83"></SPAN>[83]</span>
in, pulled some hay over him as a covering, and
went to sleep.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“What’s this? Where am I? What has happened?”
thought Tamba.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“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?”</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_84"></SPAN>[84]</span></p>
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