And Tamba was right. The grass grew long, as it did in the jungle, but there were not so many trees and tangled vines as in India. Only at night it seemed a very quiet, restful place to the tiger who had been so shaken up in the wreck.
Tamba walked on and on through the darkness, not really knowing, and not much caring, which way he went. All he wanted to do was to get away and hide, and the tall grass was just the place for this.
In a little while Tamba came to a place where there was a small pool of water. It had leaked from a pipe that filled the tank where the railroad engines took their water. Tamba drank some, and then, finding a place where the grass was taller and thicker than any he had yet seen, he made himself a sort of nest and curled up in it.
“I can sleep here, and Nero, that big lion, can’t splash any water into my nose and make me sneeze,” thought Tamba, as he snuggled up.
At first he could not get to sleep. He had been too much frightened by the train wreck, though he was so far away now that he could not hear the din, which still kept up. But at last Tamba closed his eyes, and soon he was slumbering as peacefully as your cat sleeps before the fire.
It was daylight when Tamba awakened, and, for a moment, he did not remember where he was. He stretched out first one big paw after another and then he called:
“Well, Tum Tum, what sort of day is it going to be?”
Tamba used to do this in the circus tent, for the jolly elephant was so big that he could look over the tops of the cages and tell whether or not the sun was going to shine. Most animals awaken before the sun comes up—just as it begins to get daylight, in fact.
But Tum Tum did not answer Tamba this time. The jolly elephant was badly hurt in the railroad accident, but of course the tiger did not know this just yet. Tamba did know, however, that he had made a mistake.
“Oh, I forgot!” he said to himself. “Tum Tum isn’t here! I’m not in the circus any more. I’m free, and I can go to my jungle. I must start at once!”