rd when out of the bushes
came poking the great head and yellow eyes of a lion. He was looking
straight at Gerasimus. Then, giving that cry again, he bounded out and
strode towards the good man, who was holding the donkey tight to keep
him from running away. He was the biggest kind of a lion, much bigger
than the donkey, and his mane was long and thick, and his tail had a
yellow brush on the end as large as a window mop. But as he came
Gerasimus noticed that he limped as if he were lame. At once the Saint
was filled with pity, for he could not bear to see any creature suffer.
And without any thought of fear, he went forward to meet the lion.
Instead of pouncing upon him fiercely, or snarling, or making ready to
eat him up, the lion crouched whining at his feet.

"Poor fellow," said Gerasimus, "what hurts you and makes you lame,
brother Lion?"

The lion shook his yellow mane and roared. But his eyes were not fierce;
they were only full of pain as they looked up into those of Gerasimus
asking for help. And then he held up his right fore paw and shook it to
show that this was where the trouble lay. Gerasimus looked at him
kindly.

"Lie down, sir," he said just as one would speak to a big yellow dog.
And obediently the lion charged. Then the good man bent over him, and
taking the great paw in his hand examined it carefully. In the soft
cushion of the paw a long pointed thorn was piercing so deeply that he
could hardly find the end. No wonder the poor lion had roared with pain!
Gerasimus pulled out the thorn as gently as he could, and though it must
have hurt the lion badly he did not make a sound, but lay still as he
had been told. And when the thorn was taken out the lion licked
Gerasimus' hand, and looked up in his face as if he would say, "Thank
you, kind man. I shall not forget."

Now when the Saint had finished this good deed he went back to his
donkey and started on towards the monastery. But hearing the soft pad of
steps behind him he turned and saw that the great yellow lion was
following close at his heels. At first he was somewhat embarrassed, for
he did not know how the other monks would receive this big stranger. But
it did not seem polite or kind to drive him away, especially as he was
still somewhat lame. So Gerasimus took up his switch of olive leaves and
drove the donkey on without a word, thinking that perhaps the lion would
grow tired and drop behind. But when he glanced over his shoulder he
still saw