big push and they would all go crashing down. So he called out happily, “ Jumbo! It’s Tawny! I am caught in a trap. Help me!” Old Jumbo trumpeted so loudly the very trees of the forest shook. That was his way of laughing. “ Oh, Tawny, quit your teasing I know you are making up one of your stories, but it is a good one. It’s hot, isn’t it? I believe I’ll go to the river for a cooling shower. Have fun!” Jumbo walked away, the earth trembling a little at his tread, and although Tawny cried, “ No, Jumbo, don’t leave me!” it did no good. “Why didn’t he believe me?” asked Tawny over and over. But he knew why. Then along came his very own pal, Porky. Tawny said gayly, “ Oh, Porky, am I glad to see you! Come here!” The fat little porcupine came to the edge of the corral and looked in. “What is it, Tawny? Are you playing a new kind of game?” “ Good ness, no, Porky; I’m caught in a trap. Please run and tell my father to get me out of here!” Porky grinned and shook his quills. “You funny little lion! It’s a trap all right, but it’s for me. I know you are just mak ing that up.” “ Oh, Porky, you don’t want me to be taken away by the hunters and put in a zoo, do you? Wouldn’t you miss me?” Now there were tears in Tawny’s yellow eyes. “ I’d miss your stories,” said Porky laughing harder than ever. “ That’s the best one of all,” and he too went on his way, chuckling. Baldy To the Rescue Now Tawny was very worried. Would no one believe him? He walked around and around the corral. Suddenly a dark shadow fell across his path. He looked up into the sky, and there, sure enough, was really and truly the largest bird he had ever seen. It was his friend Baldy, the great eagle. Cruising along in the summer sky, he looked down and saw a wee speck moving back and forth in an enclosure of boards. He
A ll of the birds and animals in the deep, dark, green Congo jungle liked Tawny, the jolly little lion. With his brown fluffy fur, he looked like a big soft kitten. All day long he played, sometimes rolling over and over like a ball. Then he would pre tend to bite and scratch, but even when he stretched out his sharp claws, he never hurt anything, not even the little field mice who scur ried across his path. Someday when Tawny was full-grown, he would be fierce and feared by all, but now he was the pet of the forest. However, with all .of his loveable ness, Tawny had one bad fault: he liked to make up stories. Now that is not a very serious fault. In fact, it is just pure fun, if these stories do not turn into falsehoods. But that is why it had become a real fault in Tawny. He didn’t stop with just making up amusing tales. He saw how much his animal friends liked the way he described the things he saw and heard and it went to his head. He kept adding to them until he was really telling lies. For instance, one day he came run ning home, and shouted to his mother, “ You should have seen the storm in the forest; it tore all the trees up by the roots!” But his mother was used to this, so she only said, “You know it was just a little windstorm. Why do you make a tor nado of it?” But someone else did believe him, so he didn’t stop. The Flood That Wasn't There Once there was a gentle spring rain. Tawny came bounding into the cave wherey/his father was taking a
nap. “ Oh, Father,” he! cried, “ a flood came and washed every single thing out of the forest!” His father just turned over and went back to sleep. But some of Tawny’s friends listened and went to see the flood that wasn’t there. A hawk flew down beside Tawny and he told all the animals it was the biggest bird in the whole world. You know what happened? Tawny’s friends were fooled only once. Next time they laughed and said, “ Oh, Tawny, what a whopper!” That did not worry Tawny because he .was having such a wonderful time. He didn’t realize that his fault could bring him into serious trouble. But it did. Tawny was playing a game he en joyed very much, circling ’round and ’round the big trees, when suddenly he walked into a trap. It wasn’t the kind of trap that hurts animals. It was a kind of corral for cubs, set by hunters who wanted some good jun gle specimens for the zoos in America. When Tawny pushed against the boards, they gave way. Once he was in, they closed, and he could not push them open. He tried to squeeze through the opening between the bars but there was only room for his paw. He was a frightened little lion. Pacing up and down in the pen, Tawny roared with the very best blood-curdling roar that his father had taught him. Just then he was thrilled to see Jumbo, his big ele phant friend, lumbering toward him. He knew then that all was ’ well, for Jumbo, the greatest animal in the forest, could give those boards a
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THE KING'S BUSINESS
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