crack in poor Finn's breast, as the two humans whom he loved
disappeared from his view within the great tent. He did not know
that they would not pass that way again, because the audience left
the place by the opposite end of the tent. But he gave no thought
to the future. Here, in the midst of his uttermost misery and
humiliation, the Master, the light of his life, had passed within a
few feet of him, and passed without a glance, without a word. For
long, Finn gazed miserably out between the bars, sniffing
hopelessly at the air through which his friends had passed. Then,
slowly, he retired to the furthermost corner of his cage, and
curled down there, with his muzzle between his paws, and big drops
of bitter sadness trickling out from beneath his overhanging brows.
And not all the ferocity of Killer, nor all the ingenuity of Sam
with his sacking-covered rod, availed to draw Finn from his corner
again that night. It seemed as though his heart had cracked, and
every other emotion than grief trickled out from it in the form of
tears. It was the saddest moment of Finn's life till then; and it
was a bitter kind of sadness, too. Not one little look; not one
glance for Finn in the midst of his torment!

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XVI

MARTYRDOM

It may be that a good deal of the wisdom and philosophy of mankind
is born of grief and suffering. It is certain that a good deal of
philosophy came to Finn as the aftermath of that evening upon which
he retired, heart-broken, to the farthest corner of his cage, after
seeing the Master and the Mistress of the Kennels pass him without
a word or a glance. His mind did not deal in niceties. He did not
tell himself that if the Master had only guessed at his presence
there, all would have been different. He was conscious only of the
apparently brutal fact that the Master had walked past his cage and
ignored him; left him there in his horrible confinement. He bore no
malice, for there was not any malice in his nature; which is not at
all the same thing as saying that he was incapable of wreaking
vengeance or administering punishment. He simply was smitten to the
very heart with grief and sorrow. And so he lay, all through that
night, silent, sorrowful, and blind to his surroundings.

The natural result was that sleep came to him after a while, when
all was dark and silent, and the folk who had visited the circus,
like those who had entertained them, were in their beds. And this