Rataplan, a Rogue Elephant; and Other Stories

by Ellen Velvin

Jinks did not know there were any of his own kind in the neighborhood. As a matter of fact, he had never thought about himself at all, but, having all he wanted in the shape of food and sport, had made himself quite content and even happy. As he grew from babyhood he got more mischievious still, and gave no end of trouble by eating and destroying nearly all the grapes on the vines, and fruit on the trees and bushes.

Then, one night he had a beautiful time. His master had tied him to his kennel, as usual, and left him for the night, and Jinks was just settling down to sleep, when he suddenly heard a rustling overhead in the tall bushes. The rustling was caused by a silly chicken, who, in some way or other, had lost its way, and was now so extremely unwise as to go to roost over the head of a young jackal.

Jinks had never tasted chicken, great care having been taken about this for many reasons; but, somehow, as soon as he found out what was roosting just above him, he had an irresistible desire to get that chicken and see how he tasted. Unfortunately, he was tied up, and his master never allowed him a long rope; but Jinks, having once made up his mind, was not going to allow a rope to stop him.

He therefore set to work in the most determined manner to break it, stretching himself away from his kennel with all his might, but so noiselessly—for he had all the cunning of his kind—that even the chicken, who was uneasy and restless, heard not a sound. But, strain and tug as he would, Jinks could not break the rope, for it was a strong one, and, although he possessed good muscles and sinews, and pressed every nerve into service, there was only a funny little squeak caused by the strands of the rope rubbing together, and there it ended.

Jinks sat down for a few moments on his haunches to think it over. He had no intention of giving up, and, although he had not the slightest idea of the flavor of chicken, he felt that the time had come when he must have it, come what might. So he set his clever brain to work, while his keen, crafty eyes glanced in all directions, but never lost sight of the chicken for a single instant.

He had lost his domesticated look for the time being; and as he sat there, with his bright eyes gleaming, his rough tongue hanging out of his open mouth, and an expectant look on his furry, oval face, he looked just what he was—a strong and healthy young jackal.

Suddenly he thought of something, and without an instant's hesitation lay down to carry out his idea. Taking the rope in his strong white teeth, he gradually, in a silent, stealthy manner, began to gnaw the strands one by one. Now and then he would stop just for a moment to moisten his lips and to make sure that the chicken was still there; then he would continue the gnawing as before. When he got to the last strand, what his strong, powerful teeth had nearly accomplished, his rough, coarse tongue finished, for it was covered with thorn-like protuberances capable of scraping the flesh off an ox.

There was a little snap, and Jinks was free. He had never wished to be free before, but the chicken had given him his wish for freedom, and he meant to have the chicken. With one swift spring he caught the bird, and in another moment his teeth were buried in its breast and back, and the unfortunate straggler from the home roost was giving his last cry, choked in its infancy by another grip from Jinks' mouth.

Jinks took the dainty morsel inside his kennel; for, now he had caught the chicken, he had a guilty feeling, and, moreover, he wanted to enjoy it in peace and privacy. And, oh, how he did enjoy it! Never in all his life had he tasted anything so delicious—it was so young, and juicy, and tender, and the flavor of it! He was obliged to stop every now and then to lick his lips and relish it to the utmost, for he would not have missed an atom of the pleasure for the world.

He ate the whole thing—flesh and bones and even the entrails: he also ate a few feathers, which he did not particularly care about; but it was impossible to get the delicious food without, and so he did not care much. By the time he had finished, the only remains of the chicken were the feathers, which floated about as though seeking for their lost home.