wildest panic, and the
building resounded with shouts and screams and the roars of angry lions.
Women fainted; men rushed forward brandishing revolvers, but dared not
shoot; and for a few moments it seemed as if the tamer was doomed.

But Bonavita's steady nerve saved him. As Denver opened his jaws to
seize a more vital spot, the tamer drove his whip-handle far down into
his red throat, and then, with a cudgel passed in to him, beat the brute
back. The other lions followed, and this freed the iron door, which the
grooms straightway opened, and in a moment the seven lions were leaping
toward the ring as if nothing had happened. And last of the seven came
Denver, driven by Bonavita, white-faced and suffering, but the master
now, and greeted with cheers and roars of applause. No one realized how
badly he was hurt, for his face gave no sign. He bowed to the audience,
cracked his whip, and began the act as usual. As he went on he grew
weaker, but stuck to it until he had put the lions through four of their
tricks, and then he staggered out of the ring into the arms of the
doctors, who found him torn with ugly wounds that kept him for weeks in
the hospital. That, I think, is an instance of the very finest
lion-tamer spirit.

Among various meetings with tamers of animals, I recall with particular
pleasure one afternoon when my friend Newman brought to see me a tamer
famous in his day--George Arstingstall. I knew that Arstingstall was the
first man in this country to work lions, tigers, leopards, elephants,
sheep, monkeys, and various other beasts all in a great circular cage.
Also that his fame had spread across Europe and his daring feats been
shown from London to Moscow; but I did not know what a simple, modest
man he was, nor realize until then the charm of listening to a couple of
circus veterans, comrades for years, talking of the old stirring days.
Here were two men getting on to sixty, yet talking with the eagerness of
boys about their exploits and perils under fang and claw.

It was: "Say, Bill, do you remember when that bull pup caught Topsy by
the trunk and stampeded the--"

"Stampeded the whole business. Do I remember, George? Up in Boston.
Bing! bang! over the Common, and the Old Man wild! Well I guess. But,
say, George, that wasn't as bad as the stampede in Troy, when those four
elephants cleaned out the rolling-mill. Oh, what a night! Let's see.
There was Nan and--"

"And Tip."

"Yes, poor old Tip. I stra