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Updated: June 26, 2025
In stealing Warruk, the Jaguar cub, the howling monkey acted on the spur of the moment. She had been disconsolate since the loss of her own baby, stolen from her lap by a pitiless eagle and borne away in the sharp talons as the marauder skimmed the level expanse of treetops to its nest on the bleak mountainside.
So he went his way, feasting on the turtles and their eggs which he soon learned to dig out of their hiding places, and on the fish that came up into the shallow water to spawn and which were so easy to catch. Then, one night the great thrill of his life came. Far, far down the river Warruk saw a light.
In some manner Warruk connected his predicament with the new tracks in the mud and the strange scent they conveyed. And he was right, for the first time in his life he had come upon the trail of man, and upon man's handiwork in all its most pitiless destructiveness.
Myla's heart beat with ecstasy as she surveyed her small captive. She held him at arm's length, turned him around slowly and felt of his ears and feet, for by this time Warruk had stopped struggling but continued his plaintive whining.
Then it dawned upon him that they were dead. Rafts of fish, also dead, floating on the surface of the water dotted the edges of the marsh. And, strangest of all, queer footprints were visible in the mud. They were unlike any Warruk had ever seen long, broad, and giving off a strange scent. He sniffed the tracks and followed them entirely around the marsh to the river.
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.
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.
Men rushed to the heap of smouldering embers, seized thick branches still glowing at one end and waved them aloft until they burst into flame. Others held spears and arrows in their hands, and came running to the rescue of the woman. At first Warruk paid no heed to the mob but when a flaming brand was flung into his face, burning him painfully, he was compelled to relinquish his victim.
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.
But this light in the distance, growing constantly brighter, was a deep red. It was different from anything he had ever seen. It seemed to beckon to him and for many minutes he stood gazing at it, trying to fathom its meaning. If Warruk had only known! The bright light might be said to represent his own star at its zenith. He had reached the parting of the ways.
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