Of course Chunky did not understand this talk, nor did he know what the man wanted when he stood in front of him and said:
“Open your mouth, Chunky! Open your mouth!”
Chunky did not open his mouth until he got ready, which was when he wanted to take a bite of hay. And then, as he opened it wide, the man, all of a sudden, gave Chunky some carrots, which he liked very much.
“Every time you open your mouth wide when I tell you to, I’ll give you some carrots,” the man said.
Chunky did not understand this talk, either, but he soon came to know that each time he opened his jaws as wide as he could when the man was standing in front of him and making that, to Chunky, queer noise, he would get one of the long, sweet, yellow vegetables; so, after a while, all the man had to say was:
“Open wide, Chunky!”
Then the jaws would open like a big window, and you could look down Chunky’s throat, which seemed to be lined with red flannel.
“Ha!” cried the man. “Chunky has learned to do a trick! Now he is ready for a circus.”
And so Chunky was, for, besides learning to do the mouth trick, the hippo had learned to be gentle, and not to try to bite the man who fed him, knowing the man would not hurt him, but would be kind to him. The man could go into the cage with Chunky and pat him on the head, and Chunky rather liked that.
Then, one day something new happened to the hippo, who was quite happy once more; happier than he had been in the jungle. Some men brought a new, small cage up beside Chunky’s big one, in which he stayed with Short Tooth and Gimpy, and Chunky was gently pushed into the small cage. He went readily enough, for he saw a pile of carrots in the small cage. Once inside, the door was shut and the cage was wheeled away.