chicken, who was uneasy and restless, heard not a sound. But, strain
and tug as he would, Jinks could not break the rope, for it was a
strong one, and, although he possessed good muscles and sinews, and
pressed every nerve into service, there was only a funny little squeak
caused by the strands of the rope rubbing together, and there it
ended.

Jinks sat down for a few moments on his haunches to think it over. He
had no intention of giving up, and, although he had not the slightest
idea of the flavor of chicken, he felt that the time had come when he
must have it, come what might. So he set his clever brain to work,
while his keen, crafty eyes glanced in all directions, but never lost
sight of the chicken for a single instant.

He had lost his domesticated look for the time being; and as he sat
there, with his bright eyes gleaming, his rough tongue hanging out of
his open mouth, and an expectant look on his furry, oval face, he
looked just what he was--a strong and healthy young jackal.

Suddenly he thought of something, and without an instant's hesitation
lay down to carry out his idea. Taking the rope in his strong white
teeth, he gradually, in a silent, stealthy manner, began to gnaw the
strands one by one. Now and then he would stop just for a moment to
moisten his lips and to make sure that the chicken was still there;
then he would continue the gnawing as before. When he got to the last
strand, what his strong, powerful teeth had nearly accomplished, his
rough, coarse tongue finished, for it was covered with thorn-like
protuberances capable of scraping the flesh off an ox.

There was a little snap, and Jinks was free. He had never wished to be