“Oh, he was so savage.  He bit off an attendant’s finger, and maimed two smaller monkeys.  He wouldn’t do anything but sulk and show his teeth all day long.  I got at him.  When he first grabbed my hand in his teeth I just let it stay there.  Never tried to get it away or fight him.  Just looked him in the eyes sort of reproachfully, and began to boo-hoo.  Oh, I cried artistic, I did.  Say, that monkey just stared at me, dropped my hand and began to bellow at the top of his voice, too.  Then he got sorry and licked my hand.  A lump of sugar sealed the compact.  Why, he’s the smartest animal in the show.  You see what he did for me.  The people here are delighted.  It’s made me solid with them.”

Luke introduced Andy to the “Wild Man,” a most peaceable-looking individual out of his acting disguise.  His wife was the Fat Woman, who did not act as if she was very much afraid of her supposed savage and untamable husband.

“I want you to do something for me,” said Luke, presently.  “Will you?”

“I’ll try,” answered Andy.

“I’d like to go through the menagerie.  You see I’m not regular, so, while I have the run of the small tops, they won’t pass me in at the big flaps.”

Andy walked over with his new acquaintance to the menagerie.  The watchman at the door admitted them at a word from Andy.

The trainers, keepers and manager were busy about the place, feeding the animals, cleaning the cages and the like.

Luke’s eyes sparkled as if at last he found himself in his element.  He petted the camels affectionately, and talked to the elephants in a purring, winning tone that made more than one of them look at him as if pleased at his attention.

The lion cages were Luke’s grand centre of interest.  He stood watching old Sultan, the king of the menagerie, like one entranced.

Luke began talking to the beast in a musical, coaxing tone.  The animal sat grim as a statue.  Luke thrust his hand into his pocket.  As he withdrew it he rested his fingers on the edge of the cage.

The lion never stirred, but its eyes described a quick, rolling movement.

“Look out!” warned Andy—­“he’s watching you.”

“I want him to,” answered Luke coolly.

“But—­”

Luke continued his animal lullaby, he kept extending his hand.  Straight up towards the lion’s face he raised his arm fearlessly, now inside the danger line fully to the elbow.

“Hi!  Back!  Thunder!  He’ll eat you alive!” yelled a trainer, discovering the lad’s venturesome position.

“S-sh.  Good old fellow.  Purr-rr.  So—­so.”

Old Sultan bristled.  Then his corded sinews relaxed.  He lowered his muzzle.  Andy stroked it gently.  The animal sniffed and snuffed at his hand.  He began to lick it.

Just then the trainer ran up.  He gave Luke a violent jerk backwards, throwing him prostrate in the sawdust.  With a frightful roar Sultan sprang at the bars of the cage, glaring apparently not at Luke, but at the trainer.