Tamba did not need to be told twice what to do. As soon as he heard the kind words of the cow the tame tiger ran softly on his padded feet and snuggled down again in the straw. And the man came in, milked the cows, and went out with the foaming pails without knowing anything about the circus tiger hiding in the lower part of the barn. He thought the tiger had gone away.

“Now it’s all right—he’s gone and you may come out,” said the cow to Tamba, and the tiger, shaking the straw from his striped black and yellow fur, walked out to talk some more to Tinkle, the trick pony.

“You were going to tell us how it was you left the circus, Tamba,” said Tinkle. “Make a good, long story of it. I like stories.”

“I haven’t time to make it too long,” said Tamba, “for I must be on my way. I want to get back to my jungle. At first I thought the long grass near the railroad was the place I wanted. But I see it is not the jungle where I used to live. So I must travel on a long way, and the sooner I start the quicker I’ll be there. But I’ll tell you how I got loose from the circus.”

So Tamba told Tinkle the story I have told you—how the circus was wrecked in the railroad accident, and how the cage burst open, letting the tame tiger loose.

“And now I’m here,” finished Tamba. “But tell me, Tinkle, how did you come to leave the circus?”

“Well, I had many adventures,” said the trick pony. “I used to live on a stockfarm, something like this, only there were more horses on it. I was taken away to live with a nice boy, who taught me many tricks, and then a bad man, with a big moving wagon, came along one day and stole me away. He sold me to the circus, and it was there I saw you, Tamba. I know Tum Tum, too, and Dido, the dancing bear!”

“Yes, they are all friends of mine,” said Tamba. “At least they were before I left. Now, I suppose, I’ll never see them again, for I am going to the jungle. But you haven’t yet told me, Tinkle, how you came to leave the circus.”

“Oh, it’s all written down in a book,” answered the trick pony.

“Oh, a book!” exclaimed Tamba. “I’ve heard Tum Tum and Dido speak of being in books, but I didn’t know what they meant. And I haven’t time to learn now, so suppose you tell me.”

“Well, there’s a book all about me and my adventures,” said Tinkle, the trick pony. “But, as long as you can’t read it, I’ll just tell you that, one day, when I was in the circus doing my tricks, George, the boy who used to own me before I was stolen away, came to the show. There he and his sister saw me and they knew me again, and I was taken out of the circus and given back to my little master. I’ve lived with him ever since. We often come to this farm in the summer, and I have just been giving him and his sister and some of the other children a ride in the pony cart. George is very nice to me, and gives me lumps of sugar.”

“I hope he isn’t the boy whom I scared in the hay,” said Tamba. “I would not want to scare any friend of yours, Tinkle.”

“Oh, well, if you only scared him, and didn’t scratch him, I guess it will be all right,” said the trick pony. “But I don’t believe it was George you frightened, as he was out driving me. It must have been Tom, or one of the other boys.” And so it was, as Tinkle learned later.

“And so you are going to the jungle, are you?” asked Tinkle of Tamba, when they had talked a while longer.

“Yes, I want to get back to my old home,” answered the tiger. “I don’t like it in the circus. But, still, there was one thing I liked in it, and that was the good meals I had. I’m very hungry right now.”

“Oh, excuse me!” exclaimed Tinkle. “I should have thought of that before. I’m so sorry! Won’t you have some of my hay or oats?”

“Yes, and give him some of our bran,” added the cow who had told about the man coming in to milk.

“Oh, thank you, very much, Tinkle. And you too, my cow friend,” replied the tiger gratefully. “But I can’t eat hay, bran, or oats. We tigers must have meat. I don’t suppose you eat any of that?”

“No,” said Tinkle, “we don’t. It’s too bad! I don’t know how we can give you anything to eat. It’s no fun to be hungry, either.”

“I know how we can feed your tiger friend,” said one of the big farm horses.

“How?” eagerly asked Tinkle. He felt just as you would feel if some friend came to visit you and you couldn’t give him anything to eat. “How can I feed Tamba on the meat that he likes?” asked Tinkle.

“I’ll tell you,” went on the horse. “You know the big dog who drives the sheep to and from the meadow?”

“Oh, yes, I know our sheep-dog very well,” said Tinkle. “He is a friend of mine.”

“Well, he has company,” went on the horse. “A dog named Don has come to see him and spend the day. I came in just now from plowing one of the fields, and I saw the farmer’s wife put a big plate of meat and bones out near the dog kennel. She said it would do for our dog and his friend, Don.”

“Yes, but if the meat is for the dogs they’ll eat it all up, and there won’t be any for Tamba,” said Tinkle.

“Oh, but wait a minute!” neighed the horse. “I didn’t finish. Don and our dog went off to the woods. I heard them say they would be gone for a long time, and maybe they would find something to eat there. So if they don’t come back to eat the bones and meat Tamba can have it.”

“Yes,” said Tinkle, “I suppose he can. I hope Don doesn’t come back.”

“I hope so, too,” said Tamba. “I’m getting hungrier every minute.”

“I’ll go out and look,” said Tinkle. “It will soon be dark, and if the plate of meat is still by the dog kennel, you can sneak out and get it, Tamba, and no one will see you. I’ll go and look.”

Tinkle, the trick pony, was not kept tied in a stall as were the other horses. He could roam about as he liked, and so he trotted out of the barn to where the farm dog had his house, or kennel. There, surely enough, was a big plate of meat and some large bones, large enough, even, for a lion or a tiger.

“It’s all right,” said Tinkle, when he came trotting back. “The meat is there, Tamba, and I didn’t see anything of Carlo, our dog, nor his friend, Don. Now if they don’t come back until dark, why, you can go out and have a good meal.”

“I will, thank you,” returned Tamba, and he wished, with all his heart, that Don and the other dog would not come back.

“Of course I don’t want to see them hungry,” thought Tamba, “but they may get something to eat in the woods, and perhaps I couldn’t do that. There may be no muskrats there.”

Everything came out all right. The twilight faded, and it became dark. Then Tamba, who remained hidden in the stable, crept softly out to the plate of meat and bones that had been left for the dogs. He ate up everything and gnawed the bones, and then he got a drink of water from the horse trough and felt much better.

“And now, Tinkle, I will bid you and your kind friends good-by and be on my way to get back to the jungle,” said Tamba, after he had eaten.

“Oh, are you going to run away?” asked the trick pony. “You’ll be just like Don, the dog, then. He ran away, too.”

“But he ran back again, as I have heard my friend, Nero, the circus lion, say,” replied Tamba. “I am not exactly running away from you. I ran away from the circus, but I am only leaving you after paying you a visit. And I liked my visit very much. That meat, too, was very good. Thank you, Tinkle.”

“I only wish there had been more of it,” said the trick pony. “But, if you have to go, I suppose you must leave. I hope you’ll get safely to your jungle.”

But Tamba had many adventures ahead of him before that time. He said good-by to Tinkle and the farm animals, and then, looking out of the barn and peering through the darkness, to see that none of the farmer’s men were on the watch with their guns, Tamba slunk out into the night.

Once more he was on his way, traveling to find his jungle. On through the dark woods and over the fields went Tamba, taking care to keep away from houses where people might live who would see him and tell the circus men to come and get him. Tamba did not want to be caught.

So, for several days, Tamba traveled on. Often he was hungry and thirsty, but he managed to find things to eat once in a while, and now and again he came to springs of water or streams where he drank. So, though he did not have a very good time, he managed to live.

One evening, just as it was getting dark, Tamba sniffed the air and smelled a smell which told him he was near another stable and barn. It was not the one where Tinkle lived, though.

“I wonder if I can get anything to eat here,” thought Tamba.

Carefully and softly the tame tiger crept around the corner of the carriage house. Near by he saw what seemed to be a low building without any roof a little way ahead of him, and from this place came gruntings and squealings.

“Get over on your own side of the trough! You’re eating all my sour milk!” said one squealy voice.

“I am not, either, Squinty!” came the answer. “I want something to eat just as much as you do!”

“Ha! Something to eat!” thought Tamba who heard and understood this animal talk. “I wonder who those chaps are, and who Squinty is. And I wonder if they have enough for me to eat. I’m going to see!”

Up to the pen, which had no roof, went Tamba, and, rising on his two hind legs, he looked over the side and down in. There he saw a number of pigs who were drinking sour milk and bran from a trough.

One of the pigs, with a queer droop to one eye, looked up and saw Tamba peering in.

“Hello!” grunted this pig. “Who are you, and what’s the matter?”

“I’m Tamba, a tame tiger,” was the answer, “and the matter is that I’m hungry. Who are you?”

“Squinty, the comical pig!” was the grunting reply. “And you had better travel on! We have nothing here for tigers to eat!”