Of course, in the excitement which followed the wreck, no one thought
of looking for the panther; for, as it happened, he was the only
animal which had managed to escape alive. Lhoks could not travel so
very fast at first, for he had a touch of rheumatism, and his legs
were almost stiff from long confinement, while his usually sharp
claws were quite worn off and dulled. So he skulked along the
ground, hiding himself in some deep, wooded retreat far away from the
shouts of the railwaymen. Having rested he finally began to take
some interest in his appearance, groomed his roughened coat and
sharpened his dull claws upon a log. Suddenly he realized that he
was hungry. Oh, how delightedly did he quench his thirst at a
beautiful, fern-grown pool. Then one day he discovered the trail of
a lone wood-cutter and followed it for hours, because he began to
feel lonely, and also was hungry. Perhaps he imagined that the man
would feed him, as had his keeper. It was lucky for poor, trusting
Lhoks that the man did not spy him, or he might have been shot, for
the man would surely have supposed the panther was trailing _him_ for
its prey.
Lhoks forsook the man's trail finally, and that day he managed to
catch a rabbit, which served him very well. For weeks so wandered
the poor, solitary panther all alone over the wild forest trails.
Each day fresh strength and courage came to him; already his tawny
coat had lost its roughness; the new hair was coming in, filling the
deep scars upon his sides with soft, fine fur. Suddenly he began to
feel so very happy that for sheer playfulness, and because of his
loneliness, he would play kittenishly, rolling and pawing about a
round stone which he found; springing high in the air he would often
chase his own shadow down the moonlit trails; occasionally, he would
strive to gain some almost forgotten scent, then he would lift his
black muzzle and utter a long, lonely yell--a cry in the night, once
heard, never forgotten, this yell of a panther--just a pleading cry
for his lost companions for whom he yearned.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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