ton cursed
and shouted at the brute, the motive of which Rounders quickly
understood, another theory being that the lion is sometimes prevented
from attacking in this way. This noise seemed rather to contribute to
the ire of the beast; besides it was presently drowned in his mighty
roar. The culminating point of anger was reached, the mane stood out on
end, and the lashing tail stiffened into a straight line, as the animal
made a bound toward Brinton, who still bore himself as if he were
complete master. Brinton fell. Quick as a flash, Rounders seized the
magic wand, burst open the little door, and made a lunge at the brute on
top of the fallen man. The men with the spears attacked him from behind,
and as the animal turned for a moment to face them, Rounders took
advantage of it to clutch Brinton, drag him to the door, and out of the
cage.

At this the applause was deafening. It was the first night in this
community, and the spectators thought it was in the play. The heart of
Rounders turned sick as he heard the admiring shouts. He pulled Brinton
into the little tent-chamber; thence he smuggled him into a room in an
adjoining hotel.

The beast had ripped the flesh from the bone nearly the length of his
leg, as the surgeon ascertained, who was secretly called in. Fortunately
no bones were broken. Five minutes after the event of the cage, the
manager of the concern came before the audience and stated that the
celebrated lion-tamer, John Brinton, who had been engaged at a fabulous
sum, and had performed before all the crowned heads of Europe, was taken
with a sudden indisposition to which he was sometimes subject, and would
be obliged to deny himself the pleasure of appearing again that evening.
Then he added some remark about the noble beast of the forest, who
probably regretted the non-appearance of its master--whom he positively
loved, as much as the people before him.

After the show was over that night, the manager asked the doctor how
long the wounded tamer would keep his bed, to which answer was made that
it would be several weeks. The manager did not know what was to be done.
Then, turning to Rounders, he said,

"There's good stuff in you. Brinton owes you his life. Don't you think
you might go into Pompey until Brinton gets on his legs?" (Pompey being
the old emasculated lion who appeared to the public in the same cage
with Brutus). To which question Rounders, picking up heart of grace,
said he thought he mig