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fishermen of all the jungle folk. They keep this lagoon supplied with live fish for the cats. I raised them to eat fish and to catch their own. That is why they can live with the grass-eaters and not harm them."

    It all seemed natural and normal enough to Kit as his father explained it. He watched the tiger tear apart a fish as big as Kit himself. An antelope nibbled delicately on grass a few feet from the tiger's great jaws. The giraffe stepped over the lion, also busily devouring his catch, to reach the leaves of an overhanging branch. An elephant broke through the brush and trumpeted his welcome, then knelt, as the Phantom stroked his trunk.

    "I brought them all here when they were babies-cubs, and fawns-and taught them to live together. Kit, do you remember Fuzzy and Stripes?" Kit stared at the lion and tiger. He had a vague memory of rolling on the ground before the cave with the little cubs. So this was where they were taken when they were too big for him to play with! "Stripes, Fuzzy!" he cried, starting toward them. The cats raised their huge heads, their eyes blazing. His father held his arm. "Never go to them while they're eating. They must be treated with care."

    When the big cats were not feeding, they were as docile and playful as when they'd been cubs. But his father took care that the play did not become too boisterous. Both Stripes and Fuzzy stood patiently while Kit climbed on their backs and hugged their necks. His father straddled Stripes and sat Kit in front of him. "How about a ride?" Kit nodded gleefully and they were off for a canter across the beach on the great tiger's back, Fuzzy and Spots trotting alongside to join in the play. The cats were not their only playmates. Flap-ears, the elephant, knelt obediently at Kit's command of
    "down, Flap-ears," and he toured the little island on the broad back. Even Slim, the gentle giraffe, stood by, patient and long-suffering, while Kit enjoyed his game of climbing a tree and sliding down the long spotted neck. Kit raced through the high grass with the antelopes and rode the skittish zebra.
    His father taught him how to catch live fish with his hands in the lagoon. This required standing motionless in the warm clear water until an inquisitive fish swam too close. Kit lost quite a few of the slippery fish that squirmed out of his hands, but he was finally able to hang onto one, and bore his catch in triumph to his watching father on the sand. They built a little fire on the beach and cooked their fish while the great cats lay near them, watching, and blinking. Behind the cats stood the antelopes and other horned grass-eaters, with the zebras and giraffe. In the background, Flap-ears watched, occasionally pulling up a trunkful of grass and stuffing it into his red mouth. All the animals were fascinated by the bright fire, but none came too close. His father had cooked here before and they had learned to avoid the bright plumes of flame.

    One morning, his father took one of the big fish from the lagoon and carried it to the river side of the island. There, as Kit and the animals watched, he tossed it into the river. The big salt water fish had barely hit the surface when the water around it foamed. Small shapes leaped at it, seemingly in a fury.
    The water boiled with red blood, then all subsided and cleared. The small creatures-foot- long fish-darted away, and the large salt water fish was now only a skeleton as it sank to the shallow sand bottom. Kit stared, shaken by the violence of the attack. "Piranha," his father said. "The river is thick with them. That's why no animal from the other side ever crosses to this island. And these animals have learned to stay out of the river." Kit noticed that all the animals, including the big cats, had recoiled at the sight and sound of the attack. Some had hissed or grunted. He also noticed that none

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    of them came too near the water's edge. "You'll be coming here often in the future. Never forget the piranha," his