Suma had seen it all; but in spite of every effort had been unable to reach the thief before she swung gracefully into the branches and made for the denser growth of the interior. Mad with hate and fury she raced along the ground roaring and whining in turn while Myla bounded through the leafy canopy high overhead; and in chorus with the cries of anguish from below, and the triumphant chatter of the monkey, came the screams of Warruk terror-striken and helpless, rushing headlong to certain doom.
CHAPTER IV
As it Was in the Beginning
In stealing Warruk, the Jaguar cub, the howling monkey acted on the spur of the moment. She had been disconsolate since the loss of her own baby, stolen from her lap by a pitiless eagle and borne away in the sharp talons as the marauder skimmed the level expanse of treetops to its nest on the bleak mountainside.
But not until she was leaping through the tops of the tall trees did she regain her normal senses and feel reasonably safe; she even stopped occasionally to look in triumph at the outraged mother fuming and threatening so far below. When she reached the heavier growth covering the foothills she stopped to examine the little creature in her arms.
Myla’s heart beat with ecstasy as she surveyed her small captive. She held him at arm’s length, turned him around slowly and felt of his ears and feet, for by this time Warruk had stopped struggling but continued his plaintive whining. Then she drew closer and peered into his face; but the moment she did this the cub’s forepaws shot out, inflicting parallel rows of deep, painful scratches in her cheeks. The monkey bounded upward and nearly lost her footing as she screeched in surprise and resentment; then she drew back her free hand as if to give him a cuff but instead, quickly stooped and gave him a sharp nip in the back of the neck. But remorse overcame her immediately so she placed the little form across her lap and gently stroked his fur. This was soothing indeed to the terrified and exhausted Warruk and soon he stopped whining and lay helplessly gazing at his unfamiliar surroundings.
It did not take Myla long to discover that the possession of her foster-child did not bring her the joy she had anticipated for he was most unlike her own unfortunate offspring. He ignored the choice fruits and buds she picked for him, repaid her caresses with scratches, screams and snarls or received them in the most indifferent manner in those rare intervals when he did not violently resent them. Myla was in a quandary. Should she restore him to his mother by taking him back to the windfall? Should she desert him in the treetops, or should she cast him to the ground and thus be rid of him quickly and without trouble? No! She had longed for him, had risked her life to gain possession of him, and she would keep him against all odds. He did not fill the void left in her heart by the inroad of the ruthless eagle; he did drive her to the point of distraction; but he was new and interesting just as a doll or a mirror or a rubber ball would have been.
As for Warruk, he was far from having an enjoyable time. At first he was terrified at the great creature that clutched him so closely he could scarcely breathe. He struggled, bluffed, clawed and bit his captor but she was tolerant and agile and usually forgave him or managed to hold him in such a way that his outbursts were futile.