cage single-handed, boss;
but I reckon it'll take the Professor all he knows to handle the
brute." "The Professor" was the world-renowned Professor Claude
Damarel, lion-tamer and performer with wild beasts, known sometimes
in private life as Clem Smith.

"Giant Irish Wolf, you say," mused John L. Rutherford, who knew the
world tolerably well between Chicago and San Francisco, and in the
continent of Australia, but nowhere else. He could both read and
write, but his favourite literature was the _Police Gazette_, and
for other writing than his signature he preferred where possible to
employ some one else, because it was work which made him perspire
copiously. It also made his lower lip droop, even when he signed
his name, and altogether was a laborious business. "Well, he's
certainly a giant right enough; big as any two wolves I ever see.
My! He must stand a yard at the shoulder." Which he did, and at
that moment his hackles were giving him another three inches, and
his rage was giving him the effect of another foot all round. "What
figure have you got the gall to ask for him, Sam?"

"Well, I'm only askin' a fiver for meself out've him, boss; so I'll
take twenty down."

"You will, eh? Why, what a generous son of a gun you are, Sam! I
should've thought twenty would've given you three fivers profit."

"What, an' him the only Irish Wolf in all the world, boss! Why he'll
be the draw of the show inside of a week. See him jump, now! Look
at the devil! Strike me! He is a dandy from way back, boss. How'll
the Giant Wolf figure on the bills, boss? Why I believe Smart's
man'd rise to thirty for him, sure."

"Well, Sam, we won't quarrel for a pound or two. It was smart of ye
to get the beast, an' you shall have fifteen for him, though ten's
his price; an' if the Professor makes a star of him, why you'll get
a rise, my boy. Say, touch him up with that stick there, an' see
how he takes it."

Sam thrust a stave in between the bars of Finn's cage, where they
adjoined those of the tiger's place, and prodded the Wolfhound's
side as he stood erect. The thing seemed to come from the tiger's
cage, and Finn was upon it like a whirlwind, his fangs sinking far
into the tough wood, till it cracked again.

"Well, say," said the boss, with warm admiration, "if he ain't two
ends an' the middle of a jim-dandy rustler from 'way back, you can
search me! Say, Sam, cut along an' find the Professor. Tell him I'd
like to see him right here."