Fear No Evil. John Davis Gordon

through the treetops, sparkling on the cold clear water, warming the rich earth; and the spring air was crisp and soft and clean.

      And Sally wallowed in the gurgling pools.

      Wallowed and huffed and sighed, big fat old Sally who had exhausted herself stumbling along at the rear of the troupe of animals, her old heart pounding and her hooves sore and scored. Now she had slept off her exhaustion, lying flat out like a felled ox, and when she woke up she had heaved herself up and waddled down to the stream, and stood there in the misty sunlight, staring at the first running water she had seen in her whole life: real sparkling water, tumbling and swirling through real pools, with real weeds and reeds and mosses. Sally had never seen, nor smelled, all these wonderful, almost frightening things, and she stood on the bank and sniffed and hesitated, showing the whites of her eyes. She knew this place was good, but still she was nervous. Then, finally, she tentatively put one sore hoof into the water. She flinched at the cold, but she wanted the water, cold or not; wanted to plunge her great weary body into the buoyant balm of it, wanted it to soothe and support her. For a long quivering moment old Sally hesitated, then she sort of bunched up her big haunches, and she plunged.

      With a resounding splash, and a snort, she thrust her head down, and then she was gone in a flurry of hooves, her fat old body suddenly streamlined, surging like a submarine. Sally swam, the water churning about her, and she no longer felt the cold—just joy, of her body working naturally as a hippopotamus’s body is meant to do; she no longer felt her aches, and her hooves did not hurt anymore. Sally swam underwater, her eyes wide at the rocks about her, her ears filled with the crashing of the waterfall; then she came up to breathe, surging and huffing. The water cascaded down on her black shiny head, and rainbows sparkled about her in the morning sun.

      She sank back under the stony bottom of the swirling pool, and pushed by the current, she walked, bumping against the smooth boulders, peering all around, nosing and nudging around the rocks, into dark places, all for the sheer pleasure of it. Then she broke surface with a gush; her ears pricked, her eyes widened and her nostrils dilated; then she turned, and plunged back under and swam into the current again, churning back to the waterfall.

      Sitting on the bank, Elizabeth could almost feel, through her frustration and fear, the old hippo’s happiness, almost feel the pleasure of the water surging about her body, the joy of doing what she was meant to do—and in all the beautiful space, with the sunshine and the rainbows and all the green things growing.

      And Elizabeth’s face softened, and she smiled.

      Davey would not talk about it any more.

      He had not said so, but she sensed and saw it: in his apartness; although he sat only a few paces from her; in his privacy; in his absorption in the animals. It was like an unspoken agreement between them that she could stay a while and rest, and even, he hoped, enjoy, provided she did not try to argue with him. He was in his own world.

      She wanted to cry out, What about these men following you?—but she just sat, stiffly, trying to bide her time.

      She worried for them all, but, after Sally, she worried most about the big cats: the bears could feed themselves, so could the elephants, the gorillas too—but the lions and the tigers could not.

      They were grouped together uneasily in the middle of the glen, Sultan sitting disconsolately apart. They were all scared to venture closer to the trees—if there were a cave they would be huddled into it; the only reason they weren’t huddled around Davey was because Mama was glaring them off. Mama was tense, aggressive, clinging catlike to her only security, the man she knew.

      While he sat, immobile, watching with patient silence, Elizabeth worried herself sick. How did he do it, just sitting there?—didn’t he know all hell was about to break loose? He was almost … military, in his self-control. While Big Charlie slept, and the birds twittered, and the waterfall cascaded and Sally huffed and surged.

      But then, as Elizabeth stiffly watched, Kitty, the lioness, began to play.

      Suddenly she rolled onto her back and presented her belly to the sunshine, paws in the air; then her eyes rolled wickedly, and, with a sudden twist, she was on her feet: crouched, poised, tail flicking, looking for something to pounce on; and suddenly she pounced.

      Onto nothing. She was springing up and crashing down on her forepaws, rump up in the air. She swatted her imaginary quarry with her big paws. Then she whirled around and went racing up the glen in furious mock flight, skillfully dodging invisible assailants. Then she whirled and raced back to Tommy and Princess, She skidded to a halt in front of Tommy, her tail held high. Princess sprang up and hissed and raised her paw, ears back dangerously, but big Tommy just looked at her. Kitty ignored Princess and jerked provocatively to galvanize Tommy into action, and she growled deep in her throat; Tommy just turned his head and looked disdainfully away.

      So Kitty whirled around, and fled up the glen again, and swung around and stopped. Crouching low, head just poking up above the grass, waiting for Tommy to pursue her. But Tommy lay down elaborately and sighed. Then Kitty’s gaze fixed on Sultan, and every muscle tensed; she began to stalk him. Treacherously, head low, killer paws padding, eyes boring. Sultan sat alone, and miser-ably watched her out of the corner of his eye. He knew what was going to happen. Closer and slowly closer Kitty stalked, her killer gaze fixed murderously on the unhappy tiger. All eyes were watching her. Sultan sat there on his haunches, rigid, head up, tail wrapped protectively around his front paws, his nose pointed fixedly across the glen, but gloomily watching Kitty.

      For Sultan knew that she was going to bully him, challenge him, humiliate him, and finally pounce on him and make him run away, stripping him of such dignity as he had. This is how it had been in the circus all his life. He watched Kitty stalk him, and he pretended to ignore her with the last of his dignity, his heart sinking. Closer and closer Kitty crept, her heart pounding joyfully; then, when she was three paces from him, she froze and stared at him.

      Her eyes didn’t waver; every muscle was tuning itself up for her sport, and Sultan sat, agonized, tensed for humiliating flight, but postponing it until he absolutely had to. Kitty jerked, and Sultan suddenly jerked too. Then Sultan, to his own and Kitty’s astonishment, did something he had never done before: he made a pre-emptive strike.

      Suddenly Sultan was unable to bear the suspense any longer, and in one terrified spasm he threw himself at Kitty with a roar, all jaws and paws. Kitty scrambled up in disarray, and Sultan hit her full on the chest. He bowled her over in a snarling crash before she knew what had hit her, and in a flash he was at her throat. Kitty kicked, roared and twisted, and scrambled up to flee; then Sultan, who had been doing so well, who should now have persevered and put Kitty in her place, spoiled it all and fled himself .

      He turned and ran, in horror at his own audacity, and Kitty collected her scattered wits and whirled around in hot pursuit. Sultan fled up the glen, making for Davey as fast as his legs would carry him, with Kitty bounding furiously after him. Elizabeth cringed in terror, and Sally, who had temporarily vacated the pool for a breather, blundered back into it with a mighty splash and disappeared gratefully to the bottom. Sultan came racing flat out to Davey. Then Mama entered this fast-moving scene.

      Suddenly Mama reacted to the invasion of her territory, and she sprang from Davey’s side and bounded at the offending Sultan, who found himself running from one terrible tiger slap-bang into the awful wrath of yet another one; and he swerved at full tilt and went racing at a tree.

      Now, Sultan knew nothing about trees, but he instinctively threw himself at the nearest one and clawed his way up it. Which, unfortunately, of all the trees in the forest he might have chosen, was built as unhelpfully as a telephone pole. But Sultan hurled himself up this tree with the professionalism born of terror, and Mama bounded at Kitty instead.

      All Kitty knew was that she was joyfully putting one impertinent tiger to flight, when suddenly, out of nowhere, she was attacked by an entirely different one. She skidded to an astonished stop, whirled around and fled back across the glen toward the rest of her pride, Mama galloping furiously after her. After ten yards Mama stopped and glowered at Kitty, tail swishing, and Kitty stopped at a safe distance and glared back. Then Mama turned, satisfied that she had made an impression.