“Yes, they will go away,” went on the tigress. “They will leave us as Tamba did!”
“Tamba!” thought the surprised circus tiger to himself. “She knows my name!”
“Oh, but Tamba did not go away,” said the old man tiger. “He was caught in a trap. Well do I remember that night! We have never seen him since.”
“No; and I don’t suppose we ever shall,” said the tigress, and she, too, spoke sadly. “I would give a great deal if I could only see my little Tamba again.”
At that Tamba could wait no longer. Trembling with eagerness he leaped through the grass, and landed in front of the cave, right between the other tigers.
“Ha! What is this? Who is this strange tiger?” asked the old one.
“Yes, who are you, and what do you want?” asked the tigress. “If you came to play with our boy and girl, there they are rolling in the grass. But you should not pounce in like that. It isn’t very nice and—”
“Mother! Don’t you know me?” cried Tamba, in tiger talk, of course. “Why, I’m your own little boy tiger who was trapped and taken away long ago! I have been in a circus ever since, until I ran away, got on a ship, and came back to my jungle. Here I am! Don’t you know me, Father?”
The old tiger opened wide his eyes and peered at the younger one.
“Why—why—it is Tamba!” he growled. “Look, Mother, our tiger cub has come back to us, almost full grown! Oh, what a fine tiger he is! Here!” he called to Tamba’s brother and sister. “Here is Tamba come back! Oh, how glad I am!”