and the lion has stopped. I have had a lion strike at me
and the blow has just grazed my head, and have stood still, with my whip
lifted, and the lion has gone off afraid. One day in the ring a lion
caught my left arm in his teeth as I passed between two pedestals. I
didn't pull away, but stamped my foot and cried out, 'Baltimore, what do
you mean?' The stamp of my foot was the lion's cue to get off the
pedestal, and Baltimore loosed his jaws and jumped down. His habit of
routine was stronger than his desire to bite me."

Again, Bonavita explained that there is some strange virtue in carrying
in the left hand a whip which is never used. The tamer strikes with his
right-hand whip when it is necessary, but only lifts his left-hand whip
and holds it as a menace over the lion. And it is likely, Bonavita
thinks, that to strike with that reserve whip would be to dispel the
lion's idea that it stands for some mysterious force beyond his daring.

"You see, lions aren't very intelligent," said he; "they don't
understand what men are or what they want. That is our hardest work--to
make a lion understand what we want. As soon as he knows that he is
expected to sit on a pedestal he is willing enough to do it, especially
if he gets some meat; but it often takes weeks before he finds out what
we are driving at. You can see what slow brains lions have, or tigers
either, by watching them fight for a stick or a tin cup. They couldn't
get more excited over a piece of meat. One of the worst wounds I ever
got came from going into a lion's den after an overcoat that he had
dragged away from a foolish spectator who was poking it at him."

[Illustration: BONAVITA'S FIGHT WITH SEVEN LIONS IN THE RUNWAY.]

I finally got Bonavita to tell me about the time when the lion Denver
attacked him. It was during a performance at Indianapolis, in the fall
of 1900, and the trouble came at the runway end where the two circular
passages from the cages open on an iron bridge that leads to the
show-ring. Bonavita had just driven seven lions into this narrow space,
and was waiting for the attendants to open the iron-barred door, when
Denver sprang at him and set his teeth in his right arm. This stirred
the other lions, and they all turned on Bonavita; but, fortunately, only
two could reach him for the crush of bodies. Here was a tamer in sorest
need, for the weight of the lions kept the iron doors from opening and
barred out the rescuers. In the audience was