cover and reported
that a heavy shower was coming up. Anxious mothers began to collect
their flocks of children as hens do their chickens at sunset; timid
people told cheerful stories of tents blown over in gales, cages upset
and wild beasts let loose. Many left in haste, and the performers
hurried to finish as soon as possible.

"I'm going now before the crowd comes, so I can get a lift home. I see
two or three folks I know, so I'm off;" and, climbing hastily down,
Sam vanished without further ceremony.

"Better wait till the shower is over. We can go and see the animals
again, and get home all dry, just as well as not," observed Ben,
encouragingly, as Billy looked anxiously at the billowing canvas over
his head, the swaying posts before him, and heard the quick patter of
drops outside, not to mention the melancholy roar of the lion which
sounded rather awful through the sudden gloom which filled the strange
place.

"I wouldn't miss the tigers for anything. See, they are pulling in the
cart now, and the shiny man is all ready with his gun. Will he shoot
any of them, Ben?" asked Bab, nestling nearer with a little shiver of
apprehension, for the sharp crack of a rifle startled her more than
the loudest thunder-clap she ever heard.

"Bless you, no, child; it's only powder to make a noise and scare 'em.
I wouldn't like to be in his place, though; father says you can never
trust tigers as you can lions, no matter how tame they are. Sly
fellers, like cats, and when they scratch it's no joke, I tell you,"
answered Ben, with a knowing wag of the head, as the sides of the cage
rattled down, and the poor, fierce creatures were seen leaping and
snarling as if they resented this display of their captivity.

Bab curled up her feet and winked fast with excitement as she watched
the "shiny man" fondle the great cats, lie down among them, pull open
their red mouths, and make them leap over him or crouch at his feet as
he snapped the long whip. When he fired the gun and they all fell as
if dead, she with difficulty suppressed a small scream and clapped her
hands over her ears; but poor Billy never minded it a bit, for he was
pale and quaking with the fear of "heaven's artillery" thundering over
head, and as a bright flash of lightning seemed to run down the tall
tent-poles he hid his eyes and wished with all his heart that he was
safe with mother.

"'Fraid of thunder, Bill?" asked Ben, trying to speak stoutly, while a
sense of