Talking very loud, and referring to the lion with a richness of epithets
I have never heard equalled before or since, he crossed the floor and
began to squeeze through the hole into the dangerous region below. In a
moment he was hanging with legs dangling, and a second later had
dropped heavily into a pile of hay underneath him. We lowered the
crowbar to him, breathless with admiration; and then a strange thing
happened. For, while the lion roared and the pistols banged, and we
reporters tumbled over each other to get a glimpse of the attack of the
lion on the strong man, or _vice versa_, lo! a voice below shouted to
close the trap, and the same instant a board from below shot across the
opening and completely obliterated our view.

"We'll have to fake that part of the fight," said a reporter. "Must all
agree on the same yarn."

The sounds from below prevented the details being agreed upon just at
that moment, for such a hoolabaloo as we then heard is simply
indescribable--shooting, lion roaring, strong man shouting, crowbar
clanging, and the sound of breaking wood and heavy bodies falling.

Outside the crowd heard it too, and remained absolutely silent. Most of
them, indeed, had vanished! Every minute they expected to see the doors
burst open and the enraged animal rush out with the strong man between
his jaws, and their silence was accordingly explained by their absence.

At least half of the reporters were still among the rafters when the
trap-door shot back in the floor, and a voice cried breathlessly that
the strong man had caged the lion.

It was, indeed, a thrilling moment. We clambered down the ladder and out
into the street just in time to see the great doors open and a
procession emerge that was worth all the travelling circuses in the
world put together to see.

First came the trainer, with a pistol in either hand. Following him was
the man with the small crowbar who had sat on the division between the
stalls. Then came a great iron cage, which had been in the stable all
the time, but a little out of our line of vision in a dark corner, so
that no one had observed it.

In this cage lay the huge exhausted lion, panting, on its side, with
lather dripping from its great jaws.

And on the top of the cage, seated tailor-wise, dressed in a very loud
check ulster, and wearing a bell-shaped opera-hat on the side of his
head, was the proud figure of the victorious strong man. The expression
on his face wa