is pluck was great as ever.

"This hot weather is pretty bad for me," he said, "but my ten weeks are
half expired, and I am good for your $500, and, probably, a month or two
longer."

This was said with as much bravado as if he was offering to bet upon a
horse-race. I offered to pay him half of the $500 if he would give up
and go home; but he peremptorily declined making any compromise
whatever.

I met him the ninth week in Boston. He had failed considerably since I
last saw him, but he still continued to exhibit the bears and chuckled
over his almost certain triumph. I laughed in return, and sincerely
congratulated him on his nerve and probable success. I remained with him
until the tenth week was finished, and handed him his $500. He took it
with a leer of satisfaction, and remarked, that he was sorry I was a
teetotaller, for he would like to stand treat!

Just before the menagerie left New York, I had paid $150 for a new
hunting-suit, made of beaver-skins similar to the one which Adams had
worn. This I intended for Herr Driesbach, the animal-tamer, who was
engaged by me to take the place of Adams whenever he should be compelled
to give up.

Adams, on starting from New York, asked me to loan this new dress to him
to perform in once in a while in a fair day when we had a large
audience, for his own costume was considerably soiled. I did so, and now
when I handed him his $500 he remarked:

"Mr. B., I suppose you are going to give me this new hunting-dress."

"Oh no," I replied. "I got that for your successor, who will exhibit the
bears to-morrow; besides, you have no possible use for it."

"Now, don't be mean, but _lend_ me the dress, if you won't _give_ it to
me, for I want to wear it home to my native village."

I could not refuse the poor old man anything, and I therefore replied:

"Well, Adams, I will lend you the dress; but you will send it back to
me."

"Yes, when I have done with it," he replied, with an evident chuckle of
triumph.

I thought to myself, he will soon be done with it, and replied:

"That's all right."

A new idea evidently seized him, for, with a brightening look of
satisfaction, he said:

"Now, Barnum, you have made a good thing out of the California
menagerie, and so have I; but you will make a heap more. So, if you
won't give me this new hunter's dress, just draw a little writing, and
sign it, saying that I may wear it until I have done with it."

Of course, I knew that in a