“If he only left it open once,” thought Tamba, “I could slip out and run away. Then I’d go back to the jungle.”
But the trainer never left the door open. Besides, it closed with a spring as soon as the man slipped out, and, quick as he was, Tamba could not have slipped out. However, he kept on the watch, always hoping that some day his chance would come.
And it did. I’ll tell you all about it pretty soon.
Sometimes, as I have told you, the circus went from town to town by the way of country roads, the horses pulling the big wagons with the tents on them and also the wagons in which the wild beasts were kept. It took eight or ten horses to pull some of the heavy wagons uphill.
At other times the wagons would all be put on big railroad cars, and an engine would haul them over the shiny rails. This was when it was too far, from one town to the next, for the horses to pull the wagons, or for the elephants and camels to walk. For when the circus traveled by country road these big animals—the camels and elephants—always walked.
And one night after a stormy day the circus wagons were loaded on the railroad cars for a long journey to the next city in which the show was to be given.
“Well, you haven’t gone to your jungle yet, I see, Tamba,” said Tum Tum to the tiger. The big elephant was moving about, pushing the heavy wagons to and fro.
“No, I haven’t gone yet,” sadly said the beautifully striped beast. “And, oh, how I wish I could get loose!”
On through the night rumbled the long train of circus cars. There was no moon, and the stars did not shine. The night was very dark after the storm.
Suddenly there were some loud whistles from the train engine.