Lhoks, the panther, peered sullenly and discontentedly forth from behind bars of his cage at the curious crowd of people who stared in at him, and baring his sharp white teeth angrily, snarled at them crossly. Again he resumed his uneasy pad, pad, padding walk, up and down the narrow floor of his prison, which, with six other similar gaily painted cages occupied by other unfortunate wild animals, belonged to a small travelling menagerie. Lhoks was a handsome animal, and the boys and girls who gathered in crowds around his cage gazed at him with round eyes of admiring awe. He happened to be a very large specimen of his kind, measuring about eleven feet in length. His coat was reddish-brown, now grown somewhat shabby, owing to his long confinement in the narrow cage. A small patch of white fur marked either side of his muzzle. His snarling lips showed jet black, also the tip of his tail, which he lashed angrily. His eyes, which Lhoks half closed when angry or cross, were of gleaming greenish yellow, showing golden lights. Over his cage door one might read: "Panther, or American Lion." It happened three years before, that Lhoks and two other small panther cubs had been left alone by the old panthers, who went off to hunt; feeling lonely, but full of mischief and play, they came out of their safe den, to frolic upon a wide flat ledge. There upon the rock they all played together happily, rolling over each other and cuffing with their clumsy kitten-like paws. And there the hunter came across them, and so young and unafraid were the small panthers that they allowed the man to carry them off. When the old panthers returned to the den it was quite empty; their babies were gone. For days and days they followed vainly the long trail of the robber, with red, revengeful eyes, but they never caught up with him.