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.
CHAPTER III
THE TRIALS OF PETER POSSUM
Peter Possum was in great trouble, for he had lost his mate. No wonder that he felt strangely lonely and sad. Most of the opossum tribe are noted for their love of family and companionship. Peter had been born and reared in the South, right in the heart of a great cypress swamp, an ideal spot for the home of any possum. Dark and lonely was the swamp jungle, with its tall pines and giant gum and cypress trees, beneath which lay trackless thickets of thorn and holly, while trailing in long, snaky lengths over all, grew matted bamboo vines and hanging mosses which looked like long grey beards.
Months before, Peter and his mate had built for themselves a deep, new nest down in the hollow heart of a giant cypress tree. And now what worried Peter most of all was that, wherever Mrs. Possum now might be, she had carried away their eleven little possum babies with her in her velvet-lined pouch or pocket which she wore for that especial purpose in her side.
Not until all the little possums were large enough to be trusted outside alone would their fond mother allow them to leave this velvet-lined pouch. The little possums, when she went away, were just about the size of mice, with sharp, pink noses, tiny wriggling tails, bits of beady, black eyes, and the softest, mole-like fur coats. Little helpless things they were. No wonder, then, that Peter was full of anxiety and almost dazed over the mysterious disappearance of all his family. Vainly he searched for them all through the swamp in their usual haunts, but no trace could he discover of Mrs. Possum and her pocketful of little possums.
It had been two whole nights now since Mrs. Possum had been away from the home nest. As Mrs. Possum had a habit of going off alone occasionally, Peter had not thought much about it the first night she was away, for, to tell the truth, that same night he had taken a secret trip into the far end of the swamp, just to see if a certain gnarled, old persimmon tree which he happened to remember was going to bear fruit that year.