rap-door was never occupied a single second after the roar
began, and as the number of persons in the loft increased and the thin
wooden floor began to bend and shake, a number of these adventurous
news-gatherers remained aloft and never put foot to ground. Braver
reporters threw their copy out of the door to the messenger-boys below,
and every time this feat was accomplished the crowd, safely watching on
the corners opposite, cheered and clapped their hands. A steady stream
of writing dropped from that loft-door and poured all the morning into
the offices of the evening newspapers; while the morning-newspaper men
sat quietly and looked on, knowing that they could write up their own
account later from the reports in the evening sheets.

The men in the stable below, occupying positions of great peril, were,
of course, connected with the travelling circus. We shouted down
questions to them, but more often got a pistol-shot instead of a voice
by way of reply. Where all those bullets went to was a matter for
anxious speculation amongst us, and the roaring of the lion combined
with the reports of the six-shooter to keep us fairly dancing on that
wooden floor as if we were practising a cake-walk.

A sound of cheering from the crowd outside, swelling momentarily as the
neighbourhood awoke to the situation, brought us with a rush to the top
of the ladder.

"It's the strong man!" cried several voices. "The strong man of the
circus. He'll fix up the lion quick enough. Give him a chance!"

A huge man, who, rightly enough, proved to be the performing strong man
of the circus, was seen making his way through the crowd, asking
questions as he went. A pathway opened up for him as if by magic, and,
carrying a mighty iron crowbar, he reached the foot of the ladder and
began to climb up.

Thrilled by the sight of this monster with the determined-looking jaw, a
dozen men rushed forward to hold the bottom of the ladder while he
ascended; but when he was about half-way up, the lion was inconsiderate
enough to give forth a most terrifying roar, with the immediate result
that the men holding the ladder turned tail with one accord and fled.
The ladder slipped a few inches, and the ascending Samson, crowbar and
all, very neatly came to the ground with a crash. Fortunately, however,
he just managed to grab the ledge of the door, and a dozen reporters
seized him by the shoulders and dragged him, safe, but a trifle
undignified, into the loft.