“I’m Tamba, a tame tiger,” was the answer, “and the matter is that I’m hungry. Who are you?”
“Squinty, the comical pig!” was the grunting reply. “And you had better travel on! We have nothing here for tigers to eat!”
CHAPTER VIII
TAMBA IN THE CITY
Tamba, the tame tiger, rearing up on his hind legs to look down into the pig pen, saw the funny look on the face of the animal who had spoken to him.
“What’s that you say?” asked Tamba in a growling voice.
“I said we didn’t have anything to give tigers,” went on the comical pig, and really he was comical, for his one eye had such a funny look as it drooped toward one ear. It seemed to be looking in two ways at once, and that is something you don’t often see in a pig.
“Well, it seems to me I smell something very good,” went on Tamba. “It smells like milk to me.” When he was a little tiger Tamba had liked milk very much, and now, even though he was older, he knew it would be good when he was hungry.
“Yes, you do smell milk,” went on Squinty. “But it is sour.”