JINKS, THE JACKAL


Jinks lay at his master's feet, his forepaws stretched out in front of
him, and his sharp-pointed, black nose nestling comfortably on them.
To all appearance he was asleep; but every now and then his sharp,
bright eyes would open, and glance swiftly round in all directions, so
swiftly that it was hard to realize he had opened them at all.

It was an exceptionally hot morning, even for India, and Jinks' master
stopped reading, to sigh with the heat and wipe his streaming face.
Jinks was only too glad of an interruption; he had been still quite
long enough, and, in his restless, fidgety way, wanted to be doing
something. So, as his master yawned, sighed and fluttered his silk
handkerchief, Jinks rose up, stretched himself luxuriously, and,
following his master's example, yawned too.

He was a fine-looking animal as he stood up and wagged his bushy, fox-
like tail, and his master was struck, for the first time, with his
handsome appearance and size. For he had known Jinks from a tiny baby,
having carried him home in his arms after he had found him with his
dead mother, and fed him warm bread and milk, getting in return many a
nasty bite from the vixenish little animal, who had all the
viciousness of his race.

But, in due course of time, what with repeated kindnesses and tender
care, Jinks had grown not only tame, but quite gentle, and was now