boot resting none too gently on his neck, and, after that,
licked the broomstick that had administered all the punishment.

"Going to be a good lion now?" Collins demanded, roughly rubbing his foot
back and forth on Hannibal's neck.

Hannibal could not refrain from growling his hatred.

"Going to be a good lion?" Collins repeated, rubbing his foot back and
forth still more roughly.

And Hannibal exposed his nose and with his red tongue licked again the
tan shoe and the slender, tan-silken ankle that he could have destroyed
with one crunch.

CHAPTER XXVIII

One friend Michael made among the many animals he encountered in the
Cedarwild School, and a strange, sad friendship it was. Sara she was
called, a small, green monkey from South America, who seemed to have been
born hysterical and indignant, and with no appreciation of humour.
Sometimes, following Collins about the arena, Michael would meet her
while she waited to be tried out on some new turn. For, unable or
unwilling to try, she was for ever being tried out on turns, or, with
little herself to do, as a filler-in for more important performers.

But she always caused confusion, either chattering and squealing with
fright or bickering at the other animals. Whenever they attempted to
make her do anything, she protested indignantly; and if they tried force,
her squalls and cries excited all the animals in the arena and set the
work back.

"Never mind," said Collins finally. "She'll go into the next monkey band
we make up."

This was the last and most horrible fate that could befall a monkey on
the stage, to be a helpless marionette, compelled by unseen sticks and
wires, poked and jerked by concealed men, to move and act throughout an
entire turn.

But it was before this doom was passed upon her that Michael made her
acquaintance. Their first meeting, she sprang suddenly at him, a
screaming, chattering little demon, threatening him with nails and teeth.
And Michael, already deep-sunk in habitual moroseness merely looked at
her calmly, not a ripple to his neck-hair nor a prick to his ears. The
next moment, her fuss and fury quite ignored, she saw him turn his head
away. This gave her pause. Had he sprung at her, or snarled, or shown
any anger or resentment such as did the other dogs when so treated by
her, she would have screamed and screeched and raised a hubbub of
expostulation, crying for help and calling all men to witness how she was
bei