There was much growling and
muttering; much stiff-legged circling on the part of the bulls.
The mothers, in nervous, high pitched tones, called their young to
their sides, and with them moved to safety behind their lords and
masters.
Korak called aloud to the king, who, at the familiar voice, advanced
slowly, warily, and still stiff-legged. He must have the confirmatory
evidence of his nose before venturing to rely too implicitly upon
the testimony of his ears and eyes. Korak stood perfectly still.
To have advanced then might have precipitated an immediate attack,
or, as easily, a panic of flight. Wild beasts are creatures
of nerves. It is a relatively simple thing to throw them into a
species of hysteria which may induce either a mania for murder, or
symptoms of apparent abject cowardice--it is a question, however,
if a wild animal ever is actually a coward.
The king baboon approached Korak. He walked around him in an ever
decreasing circle--growling, grunting, sniffing. Korak spoke to
him.
"I am Korak," he said. "I opened the cage that held you. I saved
you from the Tarmangani.
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