ay's Circus came to town last night, the lion somehow got out, and
they've been chasing it all night. Got it cornered in a stable at last,
somewhere in East 19th Street; but it attacked and mauled a valuable
horse there, and I understand is still at bay. That's all I know. Get up
there as quick as you like, and get us a regular blazing story of it.
You can run to a column," he added over his shoulder, as he returned to
his desk to distribute the other morning assignments, "and let's have
your copy down by messenger in time for the first edition."

No one ever disputed with the news editor, or asked unnecessary
questions, but many a reporter did a lot of steady thinking when he got
outside the office and safely on to the doorstep.

I crammed my pocket full of paper from the big heap at the middle table,
and swaggered out of the room with my nose in the air, as though hunting
escaped lions was a little matter I attended to every day of my life,
and that did not disturb me an atom.

An overhead train soon rattled me up to East 19th Street, but it was
some time before I found the stable where the lion awaited me, for 19th
Street runs from Broadway down to the East River, and is a mile or two
in length, and full of stables. Not far from the corner of Irving
Place, however, I got on to the scent of my quarry, and I had hardly
joined the group that had collected at the corner before a noise like
distant thunder rose on the air, and every single person in the group
turned tail and began to run for safety.

"What's the trouble?" I asked of a man as he dashed past me.

"Lion in that stable!" he shouted, pointing to the big wooden doors
across the road. "Escaped from the circus. Savage as they make 'em.
Killed a trotting-horse in there, and no one can get near it. They say
it's a man-eater, too!"

Another roar burst out as he spoke, and the crowd that had begun to
collect again scattered in an instant in all directions. There was no
doubt about that sound: it was a genuine lion's roar, and it sounded
deeper, I thought, than any roar I had ever heard before.

But news was news, and in this case news was bread-and-butter. I must
get the facts, and be quick about it, too, for my copy had to be written
out and in the office of the _Evening Smile_ in time for the first
edition. There was barely an hour in which to do the whole business.

I forced my way through the crowd now gathering again on the corner, and
made my way across