He felt a little angry at the Leopard and Jungle Cat for attacking him when fast asleep, but Buster wasn’t the kind to nurse a grudge. When his wrath cooled a little he actually laughed at the occurrence. Strolling outside to where the cages were standing, he grinned at the Leopard.
“You got a good dig at me, Spot,” he said, “but with that last cuff I gave you I guess we can call it even. Head ache yet?”
Spot didn’t reply, but paced his narrow cage in restless dissatisfaction. Buster turned to the Jungle Cat.
“How about you, Ocelot! Got over your scare yet? I didn’t touch you, but you looked as scared as a rat in a trap when I shook your cage.”
Ocelot showed the same silent contempt and refused to reply other than with a low snarl. Buster turned to Old Lion.
“The only cheerful one I find in this group is you, Old Lion,” he added. “Spot and Ocelot don’t look happy, and Timber the Wolf acts as if he had an ingrowing pain in his stomach. How about you?”
“I’m always cheerful,” replied Old Lion. “That’s why I’ve grown bald and toothless, and lived to a good old age. Spot and Ocelot will die young if they don’t change their manners. So will you, Buster.”
“Why,” stammered Buster, “I do try to be cheerful. I didn’t know I was anything else.”
“That may be,” replied Old Lion, “but you’re too ready for a fight. Every battle you get in shortens your life by so many days.”
“I don’t fight unless I’m attacked,” was the quick reply.