THE STRUGGLE FOR EXISTENCE

Warruk, the black cub was alone in the world, and a strange world it was, stretching on mile after mile into the hazy distance; seemingly there was no end.

The encounter with the skunk which had resulted in his ignominious rout brought home to him the fact that as yet he was not master of the wilderness. Far from it. He was but one of the hordes of creatures struggling for existence and the sooner he learned that caution and stealth led to success while bravado led to failure, the greater were his chances of survival and growth to the stage where he could fearlessly proclaim his mastery.

The struggle for existence was very real and very intense but not in the generally accepted sense of the word. It was not a competitive struggle between individuals of the same species, or even between members of different species. It was a fight to overcome obstacles; a battle against circumstances. There was food enough for all with sufficient to spare to supply the wants of untold numbers that did not exist; but, one of the problems was how to get it and the black cub was compelled to admit to himself that he was not an adept in reaching the solution.

Suma, his mother had taught him many things both practicable and useful. Others he knew from instinct, an inheritance from countless generations of his forebears. But as the days passed he more fully appreciated all that the knowledge of his mother had meant to him, especially when the voice in his stomach insistently demanded food that he was all but incapable of procuring. As a last resort, at such times, there were always the grasshoppers to fall back on even if he had lost his earlier liking for these insects. He had only to listen for the calling of the great, turkey-like Chunha, follow the gobble to its source and then gather up the winged but sluggish quarry until his hunger was satisfied, hoping, all the while that something better would turn up for the next meal.

There came the day, however, when the hosts of grasshoppers disappeared. They had lived their allotted span and had passed on. The cub was reduced to sore straits. The “crumbs” remaining from the feasts of foxes and wolves, heretofore passed in disdain were now eagerly pounced upon although they consisted mostly of bits of fur or feathers and fragments of bones.

Not once did his courage desert him in the face of adversity. This was demonstrated the day he first met the great ant-eater a curious animal, black, with white stripes on its shoulders, and fully as large as Suma, his mother. The strange creature had a long, slender nose and a flat, bushy tail while its feet were armed with dagger-like claws six inches long. As it lumbered heavily over the ground it presented an interesting spectacle to Warruk, but not one to invite familiarity. At the same time he was not dismayed. He had not eaten for two days and here was the possibility of a feast.

The ant-eater and the cub discovered one another at about the same instant; but the former ignored the latter without a second thought feeling subconsciously that such an antagonist was not worthy of serious consideration. Warruk, however, felt differently about it. It was not necessary for him to attempt a surprise attack for the big, black bulk was waddling and swaying right towards him. He had only to stand his ground and this he did. The realization that the stranger was indifferent to his presence added rage and a desire for revenge to his longing for food and he flew at him with a swiftness that took the larger creature completely unawares. Before the latter knew that anything out of the ordinary had happened the cub was on his back and with claws and teeth was digging frantically at neck and shoulders.

Warruk might as well have spared himself the exertion for the ant-eater’s hide was as effective as armor-plate against such an assault. The great, shaggy animal shook himself vigorously in an attempt to dislodge the small assailant, but the cub clung tenaciously, growling, clawing and biting the while. Then the ant-eater reared himself straight upright and fanned the air with his murderously armed forefeet; his long, round tongue played out of his minute, toothless mouth like a snake’s. Still the Jaguar retained his footing. The ant-eater then dropped on all fours, leisurely ambled to the nearest tree and, scraping his back on the low branches soon brushed the cub off when he started unconcernedly away. No sooner did Warruk regain his feet than he again sprang at his quarry, only to be again dislodged as before. A third time the performance was repeated but now the ant-eater lost his temper. When his tormentor struck the ground he charged him savagely, striking with wicked design and galloping back and forth after his nimble assailant until at last the cub was forced to take refuge in the tree where his pursuer did not bother to follow. Instead, the queer creature shuffled to a nearby ants’ nest one of a group of slender, brown monoliths fifteen feet high that dotted the grassy plain and broke away a part of the base of the structure with his great claws. When the break in the wall of the insects’ domicile admitted a flood of daylight into the heretofore darkened interior, the ants rushed out in a solid stream to investigate the cause of the disturbance; and the ant-eater’s whip-like tongue promptly gathered them up by the thousands.

Warruk watched the proceedings from his perch in the tree. He could tell by the actions of the large creature that it was eating and at the reminder of food he became frantic. He scrambled hastily to the ground just as the big beast ambled away and lost no time in poking his head into the cavity in the ants’ nest in the hope of finding some remnant of the other’s meal. But, if he thrust his head into the opening hurriedly he withdrew it in still greater haste. He had indeed found remnants of the feast, just as he had hoped. A carpet of ants covered his nose and face, clinging with a vise-like grip, their poisonous mandibles buried deep in his tender skin. The pain they inflicted was so intense that he screamed, rolled over and over, and rubbed his face in the soft grass; then, in a fit of rage he raced after the ant-eater which had been responsible for this new calamity, had deliberately tricked him no doubt in return for the annoyance he had caused him.

He caught up with the shaggy brute just as it was climbing, clumsily, a thick tree on the outskirts of one of the forest islands. In a crotch of the tree was a mass of sticks several feet across, and numbers of small, green parrots were clambering nervously over its rough exterior while others fluttered about in excitement screeching at the top of their voices. The birds sensed the danger to their nest and were vainly trying to avert the inevitable.

The ant-eater paid no attention to their clamor; he calmly established himself comfortably on a nearby branch and tore away at the nest, sending a shower of sticks and rubbish rattling to the ground. Inside the structure were little hollows, each containing three or four round, white eggs. The latter were the treasures the ruthless creature sought and after crushing the shells it lapped up their contents with audible gusto.

Warruk could endure the scene no longer. His enemy, busily engaged in the pleasurable task of eating, might be easier to handle; or, at least he could inflict painful injury to his lower extremities. While up in the tree he might also be able to catch one of the panic-stricken parrots which were climbing and fluttering around the destroyer of their abode with frantic shrieks. He dashed up the trunk wildly bent on securing both food and revenge at the same time. Suddenly he stopped. A fiery sting pierced his back; another bored into his side; a third smote him on his tender nose; and then it felt as if red hot needles were being thrust into every square inch of his body. Dark specks flashed past his eyes and a vicious buzzing sound filled his ears. His claws relaxed their hold on the rough bark and he fell to the ground.

Luckily the hornets did not pursue or the episode might have had a fatal ending for the cub. However, such experiences were to be expected. They were a part of the education that fitted him for the battle of life. He had at last learned that, at least for the present, he was no match for the ant-eater. He possessed cunning, stealth, agility and intelligence. The other creature could boast of none of these things; but in their stead it had formidable as well as useful claws, and was covered with a leathery hide that rendered it immune to assaults that he could not hope to withstand. It was evident that their paths in life lay in diverse directions.

That very night, as he lay moaning in the grass, a foolish agouti hopped up to him inquisitively and paid with its life for the indiscretion. And after bolting the tender flesh of the victim the cub again viewed the world in a friendlier light. What if he was alone, surrounded by lurking dangers. Others had braved the pitfalls that awaited the weak and unfit and had conquered them; he should do likewise. Then, eventually, the day would come when he could assume his proper rôle, schooled by bitter experience to hold the all important position of master. But, that time was still some distance off. Until then he must tread with discretion; must use that stealth and caution that was his by heritage. Of what value were the instincts accumulated by his kind through the ages if he continued to ignore them? He would heed them in the future; and to reassure himself on that point he lay still as death when a spiteful ocelot came into view not a dozen paces away. So soon as this prowler on mischief bent, oblivious of his presence, had passed on, he sought the densest cover in the forest island and curled up for a much-needed rest.

The first season of drought in the life of Warruk, the black cub, was drawing to a close. He felt the coming change just as surely as had Suma, his mother, one short year before while sunning herself on the rock in the river. The urge came from within and past experiences had taught the cub that not to heed the voice of his ancestors was to court trouble.

His wanderings had not taken him far into the low country; consequently he had not far to return to the forested region skirting the foothills. This was fortunate, for the rains swooped down upon the yearning world with a suddenness that was appalling.

Instead of the usual warning showers, water gushed in torrents from the sodden skies; and, during the brief intervals between the deluges the thunder of the flooded river replaced the steady, monotonous drone of the rain with its terrifying warning.

At nightfall, when the tropical day drew to its abrupt close, there was usually a lull in the tempest, as if the elements had hushed their ragings so that the cowering earth might view without distraction the terrible spectacle that unfolded itself.

An ominous calm made itself felt by its very intensity. The low, dark clouds in rafts scurried past at frantic speed; through rifts in the fleeing masses the higher layers were visible, hurrying in a different direction. The whole scene was a picture of wild confusion, and then far on the horizon the cloud curtains were thrust aside for one brief moment. The sun, like a splash of blood, hovered waveringly over the rim of the black abyss and with a sudden plunge passed into oblivion. But, that short glimpse was enough. Siluk, the Storm-God, had plunged a knife into the heart of the heavens; no wonder the skies wept for months and months while the earth, wrapped in a dark pall of clinging mists also mourned, with streams and rivulets, like gushing tears, cutting deep furrows into its face.

Warruk knew nothing of all this. He simply felt the urge to leave the low country and by dint of hard travel managed to keep ahead of the encroaching water until he reached safety in the forested country.

The sight of the great trees, the chatter of the monkeys, and the smell of the rotting vegetation recalled a thousand memories. He was home again home in the land of Suma and of plenty. And as the early mental pictures crowded into his brain he whined joyously and turned unerringly in the direction of the windfall. It was there the real home had been, in the cavity in the great cottonwood; he would seek its warmth and protection while the rain roared and the storm raged outside.

There it was at last, the high ridge of interlocking tree trunks and branches just as the storm had uprooted the forest giants years before. As time passed and the lower layers of the debris succumbed to the influences of decomposition, the mass settled, making the barrier more impassable than ever. The mantle of creepers covering it grew thicker and more even, smoothing the rough outlines and concealing the treacherous nature of the matter underneath.

Warruk hailed the familiar landmarks with delight. He raced along the edge of the windfall, his excitement growing as he neared his goal. Suddenly he stopped; almost directly overhead was the monkey-bridge where Myla, the monkey mother had crossed from and back to the hill country and at the far end of which Suma, his own mother had rescued him. He hastened past. And not long after he felt that he could not be far from the place of his birth.

Locating the exact spot presented some difficulties for he had never gone from the place in the normal way; the monkey was to blame for that. But before long his nose caught the scent of Suma and following it he warily picked his way over the tangled ridge straight to the entrance to the cavity in the cottonwood.

He stood in awe at the portal, undecided as to just what to do, for, in the opening hung the gauze-like curtain that obstructed his view of the interior. As he gazed at the veil he detected motion; then it dissolved itself into sections that moved independently of one another. Finally he could make out individual specks that whirled and danced with faintly buzzing wings and long, thread-like, dangling legs. The craneflies were keeping their yearly vigil, veiling the inner chamber from the profane glances of the outer world.

An instant later a monstrous form charged out of the darkened interior scattering the madly gyrating insects like chaff before a wind. It was Suma, the Jaguar, but she acknowledged no relationship between herself and Warruk, her cub of last year. In him she saw only an intruder in her abode and a possible source of danger to her new little one reposing in the seclusion of the cavity.

Warruk evaded the charge in a nimble spring to one side and, surprised and bewildered by the reception accorded him, dashed away not in the direction whence he had come but straight over the top of the windfall. Ignorant of the pitfalls concealed by the mantel of creepers he hurried on his course, only to break through the thin veneer and plunge headlong into a black abyss; then he realized the treacherous nature of his footing.

Catlike, he landed on his feet five yards below in the center of a great, hollow stub; and, cat-like, he almost immediately began to climb the circular wall that surrounded the damp, evil-smelling hole into which he had fallen. But the wood was decayed; it was so soft and spongy it would not support his weight. As fast as his claws dug into the sides of the stub flakes broke off so that he could not draw his body off the ground. He tried again and again; but always the result was the same. Warruk was a prisoner in a gloomy cavity and while his prison walls were decayed and crumbling they prevented him from climbing to safety as effectively as if they had been made of the hardest of steel.

After numerous futile attempts the cub lay down panting, to rest. Suddenly he became aware of the fact that he was not the only occupant of the trap-like enclosure. A pair of beady eyes were silently regarding him from a crevice between two great roots. The eyes were sinister eyes, set too closely together to belong to an animal of any size unless . With a shudder of terror the cub leapt to the farthest side of the prison, for the eyes were stealthily advancing, followed by a thick, sinuous body that seemed to flow from its hiding place. The newcomer was a great serpent.

Warruk felt an instinctive dread of the terrible creature that was so silently approaching. The unblinking eyes transfixed him held him spell-bound. He had experienced nothing like it during the short year of his life. Trembling, he drew himself back against the wall of rotten wood as far as possible. The snake stopped and from its mouth came a hiss that sounded like a jet of escaping steam and lasted fully half a minute. Still the eyes came no nearer but motion was discernible in the darkened corner from which the reptile had appeared. The boa constrictor, for such it was, was noiselessly drawing foot after foot of its thick body into the chamber in preparation for a quick lunge at its victim. In a flash the scale-covered coils would be thrown about the cub, crushing him into pulp.

Warruk shot forward as if hurled from a catapult not at the snake, but over its head, soaring above it a distance of fully two feet. He struck the side of the circular prison with a thud, rebounded instantly and landed on the neck of the great serpent before it could turn to follow his movements. The strategy had been successful. Writhe and shake itself as it would, the reptile could not dislodge the jaguar; nor was it possible to entwine him with the coils that groped and threshed about in vain for an effective hold, so closely did he cling. His claws were buried deep in the snake’s flesh while his teeth had closed like the jaws of a trap upon the slender neck just below the head.

Seconds passed slowly and minutes, seeming more like hours, dragged by while the death struggle continued. Warruk knew that to lose his foothold meant a speedy end for him; his claws dug deeper through the tough hide and his jaws drew together with the slow, irresistible force of a vise. At last it came, a dull, faint report. The great reptile’s head fell forward and the body lashed frantically; the spinal column had been severed and that marked the beginning of the end.

A half hour later the long black and yellow body had writhed its last and lay in a limp, knotted heap in one side of the prison. The cub was crouched as far away as possible from the mound of shimmering flesh and not for an instant did he remove his eyes from it. It was as if he half expected the snake to come back to life to renew the combat.

When night came Warruk resumed his restless pacing around the wall of his confining cell. The dead serpent did not trouble him now but he was careful not to tread upon it as he made his rounds.

The air in the hollow stub was anything but invigorating. It was heavy with the stench of decaying vegetation, and damp. It was not unnatural, therefore, that the cub should stop to sniff enquiringly at a thin stream of fresh air that gushed from somewhere near the floor and rushed up the chimney-like stub. That phenomenon was worth investigating for the air must enter through a passage communicating with the outer world; and the cub was not long in finding it.

An opening near the base of the stub, caused by the rending of the side when one of the giant trees crashed against it during the storm that razed the windfall through the jungle and piled up the wreckage to form the ridge, was located at last. It was through this that the snake had entered and the latter part of its body still clogged, at least partially, the passage.

Warruk dragged in the remainder of the snake and breathed deeply the fresh air and thrust first one forepaw and then the other into the crevice which was too narrow to permit the passage of his bulky head and body. His sharp claws caught in the edges of the break; the decayed wood crumbled away. Encouraged, he began to claw at the sides of the aperture, his excitement increasing until he was tearing at it frantically with no other thought than to escape from the trap into which he had fallen.

Daylight had come, however, before the opening had been increased to twice its original size and turning his head sideways the prisoner forced it through. His shoulders followed easily but when he attempted to draw the remainder of his body through, the hole seemed too narrow, holding him fast. After one or two tugs forward he tried to back out but going in that direction too was impossible. This indeed was an unusual and unenviable predicament, his forward half in the outer world which meant freedom, the other in the dark hollow of the stub where the serpent lay.

Just then a flock of wood-hewers, large, brown birds with strong, curved beaks, that hopped up and around the stems and branches like woodpeckers saw the young jaguar. They had been rummaging among the tangle of decaying wood, feasting on the superabundant grubs and larvae. But no sooner did they notice the prisoner than all thought of food vanished. Like the jays, they never failed to take advantage of an opportunity to tantalize some other creature, especially if they found the latter under distressing circumstances.

They darted at Warruk, flitted back and forth, hopped nimbly along the branches and raised their voices in low churrs or louder agonized wails. The cub was nonplussed and stared at the birds, at first blankly, then angrily; but they grew constantly more impertinent, even making daring sallies at his face as if to peck out his eyes.

One of the tormenters, unobserved by the captive, stole over the rim of the stub to investigate things in the gloomy interior and, while its brethren were busy outside found an undisputed field for activity in the cavity. Swooping low it dug its sharp, strong beak into Warruk’s back just above the root of the tail.

The effect on the prisoner was magical. For all he knew the great snake had come to life again and was attacking him from the rear. With a mighty wrench he turned on his side and slipped through the opening to freedom.

All through the weeks of rain that followed Warruk hunted along the border of the windfall; but he did not again venture near the region where Suma, his mother held sway. He saw nothing of her. It was not until long, long after that their lives again intertwined when Suma unwittingly assumed the rôle of avenger and thus fulfilled an old belief of the wild men of the forest. So far Warruk knew nothing of man did not even suspect the existence of such a creature. Blessed ignorance! for with the coming of that knowledge the lives of all the inhabitants of the wilderness undergo a change.

Food was so plentiful that on no occasion did the cub go hungry. And nurtured by the great abundance he grew in size and fearlessness even as the vegetation overhead and underfoot thrived in the soggy earth and moisture-laden air.

When the rains stopped, as they finally did, Warruk instinctively headed back toward the low country. After the long weeks in the rain-drenched forest the prospect of the pampas flooded with golden sunlight, of reedy marshes where the birds twittered and animals worthy of his prowess moved shadow-like in and out of the fringe of papyrus, and of tree islands with their ever-present air of mystery and adventure, was a joyous one to contemplate.

On the last day but one before the jungle’s end was reached Warruk came upon the vanguard of the peccary herd. There were several hundreds of the ferocious little beasts scattered over a wide area uprooting the succulent sprouts that grew luxuriantly among the undergrowth.

The cub did not suspect that the band was so large, for there was no indication of its great number. The individuals ate quietly and moved stealthily. There was but an occasional low, moaning grunt given as a signal to keep the herd headed in the right direction, and the champing of the murderous tusks of the leaders.

Selecting the straggler nearest him the jaguar rushed upon it and in a short leap landed upon his victim’s back. The peccary was doomed, but before the end came it had ample time to voice its terror in shrill screams that penetrated through the forest with an appalling clearness. Instantly the place was in an uproar. A hundred throats took up the cry and dark forms dashed into view from all directions surging in a solid mass to the assistance of their stricken fellow.

Warruk saw the avalanche of infuriated creatures sweeping toward him. In a moment he would be buried in the deluge of cloven hoofs and flashing tusks and torn to shreds. There was only one thing to do, so he leapt lightly to the trunk of the nearest tree and drew himself into the lower branches.

Before long the tree was surrounded by the enraged mob, rearing and plunging and vainly trying to climb in pursuit of its assailant. At the same time the animals squealed and grunted their hatred and threatened with gnashing teeth.

The siege lasted throughout the day; nor was it raised at nightfall. So far as Warruk was concerned, he crouched comfortably on the thick limb and interestedly observed the proceedings below, rather enjoying the impotent manifestations of the peccary herd; that is, he felt no misgivings so long as daylight lasted for the sun shone brightly and it was warm. But with darkness came a brisk wind that lashed the treetops into a madly waving, groaning tangle of spectral branches and brought a cold shudder to the besieged. There was no rain but the air was heavy with moisture from the saturated mould underneath and the chill penetrated to the very bones.

Warruk shivered. The cat tribe may endure neither excessive cold nor moisture and here was a combination of the two. The cub was rapidly growing numb and it was not long before that fact made itself felt. Should his strength fail him he would be unable to retain his hold on the elevated perch and would plunge down into the midst of the merciless horde that awaited him.

He arose, stretched his limbs and peered down; the frantic host was still there in full number. Then he began pacing back and forth on the branch. The exercise restored the sluggish circulation of his blood and he felt he had a new lease on life. Ten feet above his head was a thicker though shorter limb; he clambered up the trunk to it but the moment one paw touched the new footing it gave way, struck other branches in its downward course and fell to the ground a good fifty feet from the base of the tree. When it landed with a crash, stunning several of the peccaries and injuring others which immediately announced the fact in loud screams, the remainder of the herd rushed to the spot and in a moment was converted into a struggling, frantic mass. The animals were crazed with excitement and bent on but one thing the destruction of their enemy which supposedly had fallen into their clutches.

That was Warruk’s one chance, provided by his timely though unintentional loosening of the decayed branch. He slid quickly down the side of the trunk opposite the struggling mass of animals and darted away.

The ensuing months of sunshine and balmy weather were passing all too quickly in a succession of glorious days and starlit nights. Everywhere, in grassy pampa, forest island, reedy marsh and in the streams and lagoons, life teemed and the creatures were filled with the joyousness of living. Everyone was happy. What did it matter if myriads were doomed to die in the course of each twenty-four hours to provide food for the others? Was not it the plan of Nature that it should be so, from the very beginning? When an individual of any species lost its life there were others left to carry on the purpose of the kind and the survivors took no note of the fact that one of their number had vanished. There was no trace of dread or tragedy in the demeanor of any creature. Each unconsciously took his chance in the game of life just as civilized man takes his in multitudinous ways. If a bird narrowly escaped the talons of a hawk, even losing a fluff of feathers in the encounter, it did not remain indefinitely in dense cover, in fear and trembling; it soon forgot the experience and went about its affairs in the usual way, just as a man who barely escapes being struck by an automobile while crossing the street will not hesitate to again run the same risk at the very next corner. That is exactly as Nature intended it should be for, if either man or beast spent the time brooding over the many things that could happen, life would be a perpetual torment and probably of short duration.

Warruk, the black Jaguar, lived with a measure of joyousness that was brimming over. He was thrilled with the vastness of his world and with the possibilities that arose each day. There were adventures and misadventures and he relished both, for each added to the sum total of the things he should know.

As the dry season advanced the water in the lagoons fell rapidly and some of the smaller ones dried up completely. Those of larger size shrank to narrow proportions, the water receding gradually under the onslaughts of the sunshine and drying wind.

The pools that lay in the center of the wide, sun-baked mudflats were the mecca of a host of things. They teemed with imprisoned fish. Ducks and other waterfowl swarmed to them. Jacanas, birds with wide-spreading toes, ran nimbly over the lily pads on the surface, seemingly skating across the water itself. And, crocodiles migrated from a distance to these havens of security and plenty.

There was no choice. The animals of the plains and forests that required water to sustain life were compelled to seek out the remaining pools to quench their thirst. Some of them came only at lengthy intervals. Others came not at all, for apparently they could subsist through the entire period of drouth without drinking. But the vast majority were forced to visit the lagoons frequently or perish.

And as it was, not a few of them lost their lives in the midst of plenty. The sun, however, shone just as brightly as if there were no note of tragedy; parrots screamed as usual; blackbirds trilled, frogs croaked and bellowed, and the turtles laid their eggs in the hot sand. In other words, the procession of life moved on without taking note of those that dropped out along the way. It was neither more nor less than the enactment of an old, old drama.

Warruk drank after each kill. Sometimes that was daily; more often two or three days elapsed between gorges. But, the feast completed, he was always seized with a burning thirst and to quench it he was forced to visit the lagoons as occasion required.

By this time his mastery of the pantenal country was pretty well established. And when his supremacy was disputed it was invariably by some inhabitant of the denser growth where the advantage lay with the other creature. In the open country there was no need for apprehension. So far as the water was concerned he did not even surmise that possible danger might lurk in the stagnant depths.

The cub had eaten heavily of venison, having surprised a fawn in the tall grass while its mother had gone to the nearest water-hole, a full two miles away, to drink. And later, to quench his own thirst, he leisurely made his way to the margin of the river, further on, for the murky water of the lagoon was not to his liking.

A wide trail led to the edge of the stream, cut deep by the hoofs of tapirs, peccaries and other animals. Below, the water eddied lazily, as in a deep pool, before swirling away hurriedly further down.

After a casual survey of his surroundings the Jaguar stooped and began lapping up the warm but satisfying liquid. Something flashed dark beneath his nose and he drew back with a start; the action, sudden and violent, mired his forefeet deeply in the soft mud. Before he could recover his balance the long snout of a crocodile was thrust above the surface; the jaws opened, revealing rows of gleaming, peg-like teeth, and they closed again almost instantly with Warruk’s left paw in their clasp.

The cub was no match for the great, powerful reptile, and before he could even attempt to offer resistance he had been dragged beneath the surface. The sudden plunge bewildered him, but only for an instant. Then he began struggling, frantically, the three free feet, with claws unsheathed groping blindly for a foothold. At first they encountered nothing but the unresisting water; and then one hindfoot grazed the crocodile’s back, but the tough hide turned the sharp claws aside. The fact that there was a footing somewhere within reach changed despair to hope. If he could but obtain a firm hold to brace his body there might be the possibility of resisting his assailant which was rapidly backing further and further from the bank. Again his feet groped blindly in the darkness; again they encountered something besides the swirling water but this time the claws held fast then sank deeper as he pushed with all his might, slid slowly downward and once more were free.

Warruk had not the strength left to make another effort. There was no need for it for his claws had rent into ribbons the less tough hide of the crocodile’s throat.

Painful though this injury must have been it was not enough to deter the villainous reptile from its purpose. On the contrary, it seemed to increase its speed. Other marauders, however, had been attracted to the scene of the combat, first by the struggle that they sensed from a distance and now by the blood that flowed freely from the lacerated throat of the crocodile. They were no other than the piranhas or cannibal fish. In legion they came until the water seemed packed with a solid mass of the ravenous creatures, crazed by the taste of blood and struggling so frantically to reach the source from which it came that they forced one another above the surface of the water.

Those nearest the crocodile ripped and cut at the wound with their triangular, razor-sharp teeth. And the great saurian soon understood that it was doomed unless it immediately sought refuge on the land where the fish could not follow. It rose to the surface and with powerful strokes of its feet and tail made for the bank.

But the frenzied horde was all about it, enveloping it as in a heavy cloak that dragged steadily downward. And all of the time there was the merciless tearing and slashing of keen-edged teeth attacking from all sides and in unbroken files. It was over in an incredibly short time a few minutes at most. With its head nearly severed from its body the crocodile rolled on its side and sank slowly to the bottom.

As for Warruk, the vise-like jaws had opened at the first onslaught of the piranhas to snap at its assailants in frantic efforts at defense and retaliation; and thus freed, he rose to the surface and succeeded in swimming to the land with scarcely enough strength remaining to draw himself up. Luckily the fish did not attack him; they centered all their energy on the crocodile because the great gashes inflicted by his sharp claws rendered the heretofore invulnerable reptile an easy victim; for, once the tough hide had been penetrated the opening could be enlarged without trouble.

For a long time the cub lay as in a stupor. In fact, not until darkness fell did he arouse himself sufficiently to rise unsteadily to his feet and to limp away from the bank of the treacherous river.