After the departure of the bird, that had taught our young adventurers
so interesting a chapter of natural history, the elephant once more
engrossed their attention. Not that there was anything new in the
movements of the latter--for it was acting just as before--but simply
because they knew that, so long as it remained upon the ground, they
would have to stay in the tree; and they naturally bent their eyes upon
it, to see if it was showing any signs of moving off. They could
perceive none. Not the slightest appearance to indicate its intention
of departing from the spot.
While engaged in regarding the besieger, their eyes were of course
removed from the sycamore; nor might they have been again turned towards
that tree--at least, not for a good while--but for a sound that reached
their ears, and which appeared to proceed from the direction of the
hornbill's nest. It was a soft and rather plaintive sound--unlike any
that had been made by the rhinoceros bird; nor was it at all like the
voice of a bird, of any kind. It was more like the utterance of some
four-footed creature; or it might even have been a human voice
pronouncing the syllable "wha," several times repeated.
That it was neither bird nor human being, Ossaroo could tell the moment
he heard the first "wha." Almost as soon were the others convinced that
it was neither: for on turning their eyes to the sycamore, they saw upon
the projecting spur that had been so lately occupied by the hornbill, a
creature of a very different kind--in short, a quadruped.
Had it been in an American forest, they might have taken the creature
for a racoon though a very large one. On closer scrutiny, many points
of resemblance, and also of difference, would have become apparent.
Like the racoon, it had plantigrade feet, a burly, rounded body, and a
very thick hairy tail--ringed also like that of the American animal--but
unlike the latter, its muzzle, instead of being long and slender, was
short, round, and somewhat cat-like; while its hair, or more properly
its fur, formed a thick even coat all over its body, limbs, and tail,
and presented a smooth and shining surface. Its general colour was a
very dark brown, streaked and mottled with golden yellow; and Caspar
remarked, upon the moment of seeing it, that it was one of the
handsomest creatures he had ever beheld.
The naturalist Cuvier had made the same remark long before Caspar's
time. So said Karl, on hearing the observation escape from the lips of
his brother.
Ossaroo knew that the animal was the "wha," a name derived from its
ordinary call; and that it was sometimes known as the "chetwa," and also
the "panda."
Karl, on hearing Ossaroo's name for it, and indeed, on hearing it
pronounced by the creature itself, was able to identify the animal, and
to give it still another name--that which has been bestowed upon it by
Frederick Cuvier--_ailurus_. This is the generic name, of which, up to
the present time, it has been left in undisturbed possession. Since
only one species has been discovered, it has the name all to itself; and
therefore would not require any specific appellation. But for all that,
one has been given to it. On account of its shining coat, it has been
called the _ailurus fulgens_.
Though the closet naturalists, in following out their pedantic
propensities, have created a genus expressly for this animal, there is
nothing either in its appearance or habits to separate it from the
badgers, the racoons, the coatimondis, and such other predatory
creatures. Like them it preys upon birds and their eggs, as also on the
smaller kinds of quadrupeds, and like the racoon, it is a nimble
tree-climber.
The situation in which the particular panda, of which we are writing,
first appeared to the eyes of Karl and Caspar, proved this capacity, and
its actions the moment after testified to its fondness for birds'-eggs.
It had not been a minute under the eyes of the spectators, when they saw
that it was after the eggs of the hornbill; perhaps, too, it might have
had a design of tasting the flesh of their owner.
Resting its thick plantigrade hind feet upon the projection of the tree,
it erected itself like a little bear; and with its fore-paws commenced
scraping at the barrier wall which the male bird had spent so much time
and taken so much pains in building. It is possible that if it had been
left to itself, it might in time have succeeded in forcing an entrance
into the nest, and highly probable too--or it would scarcely have
entered upon the task. But it was not left to itself. Not that the
sitter inside could have done much to hinder it: though it was evident
from the way in which her beak was repeatedly projected and drawn back
through the hole, and also from her angry hissing, that she knew there
was danger without, and that an enemy was assailing her citadel.
Most likely after a time, and by constant scraping, the clay wall would
eventually have been pulled down; but before that event came to pass, a
loud flapping and fluttering, and cracking and clattering, was heard
among the tops of the trees; and in an instant afterwards the broad,
shadowy wings of the old male hornbill were swashing about the ears of
the four-footed robber, where the long cutlass-like beak, armed at its
edges, at once interrupted the intent.
The panda, taken by surprise, quailed at this first onset: for like any
other _paterfamilias_ who on returning home finds a burglar breaking
into his house, the cock bird charged in the full tide of impetuous
fury.
The robber, however, evidently used to this sort of thing, soon
recovered his self-possession; and instead of retreating from the tree,
he only planted himself more firmly upon the projection; and, facing
towards his feathery assailant, prepared to show fight.
And fight was instantly shown on both sides--the bird swooping
repeatedly at its adversary, striking with its strong wings and
thrusting with its ensiform beak; while the quadruped played back both
with teeth and claws--several times plucking a mouthful of feathers from
the breast of its winged adversary.