He had begun to romp with them in a feeble, awkward way, and even
to squabble, his little throat vibrating with a queer rasping noise (the
forerunner of the growl), as he worked himself into a passion. And long
before his eyes had opened he had learned by touch, taste, and smell to
know his mother--a fount of warmth and liquid food and tenderness. She
possessed a gentle, caressing tongue that soothed him when it passed over
his soft little body, and that impelled him to snuggle close against her
and to doze off to sleep.
Most of the first month of his life had been passed thus in sleeping; but
now he could see quite well, and he stayed awake for longer periods of
time, and he was coming to learn his world quite well. His world was
gloomy; but he did not know that, for he knew no other world. It was dim-
lighted; but his eyes had never had to adjust themselves to any other
light. His world was very small. Its limits were the walls of the lair;
but as he had no knowledge of the wide world outside, he was never
oppressed by the narrow confines of his existence.
But he had early discovered that one wall of his world was different from
the rest. This was the mouth of the cave and the source of light. He
had discovered that it was different from the other walls long before he
had any thoughts of his own, any conscious volitions.
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