“Oh, hello, my friend!” called Tamba, in animal talk, from the place where he was hidden. “Are you running away from the circus, too, Mr. Zebra?”
“Circus? Why, no. I never was in a circus, though I’ve heard about such things,” the zebra answered. “But how did you get out of your cage? I didn’t know any of the tigers were loose.”
“Oh, I got out some time ago, in a train wreck,” answered Tamba. “But what is the circus doing here, and have they had the parade yet?”
“Look here!” exclaimed the zebra, as he chewed some wisps of hay he picked up from the barn floor. “I guess we don’t either of us know what the other is talking about. This isn’t a circus. This is a zoölogical park, in a big city, and I am one of the animals. Only, as I am very tame, they let me run about the yard where the barn is. We have some lions and tigers here, but they are kept in cages. Are you one of the zoo tigers?”
“No,” answered Tamba. “I was a circus tiger. But I ran away, and I am going back to my jungle. So this is the zoo. Now I understand.”
What had happened was this. The farmer, on whose load of hay Tamba had hidden, gone to sleep, and been given a ride to the city, had brought the hay to the zoölogical park, to sell, as he often did. He had driven it right up to the barn to unload, and then it was that Tamba slipped off and hid before any one saw him. And the wild animal smell that Tamba noticed was the smell of the animals in the park. I suppose you have been to the zoölogical park near your own city, perhaps, and have noticed that smell. It is almost like a circus, so it is no wonder Tamba was puzzled.
“So this is the zoo, is it?” he asked the zebra. “Well, I don’t want to stay here, any more than I want to stay in a circus. But how can I get away?”
“Well, if you really belonged here, of course it wouldn’t be right for me to tell you how to get away,” said the zebra. “But as you are not one of the zoo animals, it will be all right for you to run off. You had better wait until it is dark, though, and then you can crawl out through the fence near the back of this barn. But you will be in the middle of a big city, and not in your jungle.”
“I know,” said Tamba, sadly. “But I’m used to cities. I have been in parades in them often enough. I’ll find my way out somehow, and then I’ll go to my jungle. But I wish I had something to eat. You haven’t a bone or a piece of meat, have you?”