ne perfectly easy thing, a
jump over a pedestal.

"Ask Mr. Bostock to please come here," called Bianca, finally, quite at
her wit's end, with the performance hour approaching and hers the chief
act. To go on with Spitfire in rebellion would never do, for the spirit
of mischief spreads among lions and tigers exactly as it spreads among
children. Spitfire _must_ jump over that pedestal.

Mr. Bostock arrived presently, and at once entered the cage, carrying
two whips, as is the custom. There is something in this man that
impresses animals and tamers alike. It is not only that he is big and
strong, and loves his animals, and does not fear them; that would
scarcely account for his extraordinary prestige, which is his rather
because he _knows_ lions and tigers as only a man can who has literally
spent his life with them. From father and grandfather he has inherited
precious and unusual lore of the cages. He was born in a menagerie, he
married the daughter of a menagerie owner, he sleeps always within a few
feet of the dens, he eats with roars of lions in his ears. And his
principle is, and always has been, that he will enter _any_ cage at
_any_ time if a real need calls him--which has led to many a situation
like that created now by Spitfire's disobedience.

There were many groups in the menagerie at this time, each with its
regular tamer; and while Bostock, as owner and director, watched over
all of them, it often happened that months would pass without his
putting foot inside this or that particular cage. And in the present
case he was practically a stranger to the four lions and the tiger now
ranged around on their pedestals in a semi-circle thirty feet in
diameter, with big Brutus in the middle and snarling Spitfire at one
end.

"Well," said Mr. Bostock, explaining what happened, "I saw that Bianca
had made a mistake in handling Spitfire from too great a distance. She
had stood about seven feet away, so I stepped three feet closer and
lifted one of my whips. There were just two things Spitfire could do:
she could spring at me and have trouble, or she could jump over the
pedestal and have no trouble. She growled a little, looked at me, and
then she jumped over that pedestal like a lady. I had called her bluff.

[Illustration: BIANCA RESCUES BOSTOCK FROM "BRUTUS."]

"The rest was easy. I put her through some other tricks, circled her
around the cage a couple of times, and brought her back to her corner.
Then, as she