“Very clever, I call it,” said his father, sort of laughing.
“Oh, let Tamba tell his adventures,” begged his brother.
So Tamba told them, just as I have written them here in this book. He told about the circus, about how Squinty splashed whitewash on him, and everything; and, my! the other jungle tigers laughed at the funny pig’s trick.
It was late that night when Tamba had finished the story of his adventures, and then, having eaten some more, he was given a bed on the dried leaves in the cave, where he curled up with his father and mother and sister and brother.
“Tamba,” asked his sister softly, as she reached over in the darkness and touched him with her paw, “do you think I would like it in a circus?”
“No!” said Tamba. “You had better stay at home in the jungle. There is no place like it. I am glad to get back!”
And then he went to sleep.
THE END