aiting for him when he came out of the ring.

Thus went the endless round. Here to-day and there to-morrow. In the
evening a magic city of white tents would be seen upon the grounds, but
by midnight all had been stowed away in four or five long trains, which
soon were thundering over the rails to a distant city, where for the past
three weeks posters had announced the coming of the circus.

Thus the days and weeks of Black Bruin's second year in the circus passed
and they concluded the season at Nashville, Tennessee. Then all the
paraphernalia was loaded with even more care than usual, for they were
off for the long trip northward, to their winter quarters.

That night when they loaded the elephants and the trick-ponies, some of
them hung back and refused to board the train, a tendency most unusual on
their part; but they finally obeyed the goad and lash and all were stowed
away in their customary places.

It was about midnight when the train bearing Black Bruin's van pulled
out. One by one the cars bumped over the switch and the long train got
under way. At first the locomotive puffed and panted as though the load
were too great for it, but finally the train got up momentum and the
car-wheels sang their old song of rat-a-clat-rat-a-clat-rat-a-tat-tat,
while the engine assumed its familiar song of

"Rushing, pulling, snatch the train along,
Tugging, pulling, locomotive strong."

This is the song that a locomotive always sings when it is off for a
long, hard pull.

On, on through the darkness the train sped, the engine sending forth
showers of sparks that twinkled in the gloom like fireflies, and then
went out.

But the most conspicuous thing about the train was the headlight, which
threw its long cylindrical shaft of light far ahead, like a mighty auger
of fire boring into the darkness. No matter how hard the engine puffed
and panted or how fast the drivers thundered over the rails, this bright
cylinder of light was always just so far ahead, illuminating the gleaming
rails, flashing into deep cuts, lighting up cliffs and forest, and long
stretches of open fields.

Black Bruin was not asleep in his cage, as he usually was on long
journeys like this. Somehow, he felt restless and ill at ease. He
sniffed his bars often, but the heavy shutters were down and no sign of
freedom was at hand. Yet in some unaccountable manner, the wind sucking
through the cracks between the shutters blew fresher and sweete