“The entire population of this particular jungle are—­boa constrictors of unprecedented size and ferocity.”

Tiffles heard a rustle of fans and dresses not far off.  It was the whole female seminary shuddering.  There was also a general movement throughout the audience as of people adjusting themselves to obtain a good sight.

“These boa constrictors, so admirably delineated here,”—­commenced Tiffles.

“Where?” said the voice of a country gentleman.  “I don’t see any bore constructors.”

“Nor I.”  “Nor I.”  “Trot ’em out!” “Show ’em up!” “Produce your snakes!” Such were the remarks that resounded through the hall.

“Oh, no!” “Don’t!” “Please don’t!” emanated from several girlish voices.

“My fair auditors have no cause for alarm.  I have no living snakes to show.  I might have captured several hundred, and brought them to this country and exhibited them, but, in deference to the well-known aversion cherished toward snakes by cultivated communities, I forbore to do so.  The only boa constrictors that I have, are now before you.  These are their heads.  These their tails” (indicating the termini of the snakes).

Now, the spectators—­or a large number of them—­had suffered fearful expectations of seeing real snakes.  When, therefore, it was announced that these harmless daubs, resembling, at a distance, some variety of tropical vegetation, were the only snakes they were to see, there was a feeling, first, of relief, and then of disappointment.

The disappointment manifested itself in low hisses, and exclamations, such as “Humbug!” “Gammon!” “Swindle!” Tiffles made several beginnings of excellent snake stories, of which he was the hero, but was checked by the tumult.  Finding the snakes were not popular, he determined to try the tigers, lions, and other beasts of prey farther on.  He coughed once emphatically, and the canvas moved like clockwork.

Before it had journeyed five feet, somebody on the front row of seats coughed twice in precisely the same manner as Tiffles.  The idiot, supposing the signal came from his employer, stopped.  Tiffles, perceiving the mistake, coughed again, and the motion was resumed; when a double cough resounded from the front seat, and the motion ceased.

Then Tiffles realized that his system of signals was understood by somebody.  What should he do?  He could not stop the free, universal right to cough.  Therefore he stepped to the corner of the curtain, raised it, and said, in a voice loud enough to be heard by the audience, “Stoop, whenever I want you to ‘stop,’ or ‘go on,’ or ‘faster,’ or ‘slower,’ I will say so.  You understand?”

“Puffickly,” replied the gifted idiot.

“I say, boys, Stoop’s in there,” shouted the somebody that had coughed.

“Stoop!” “Stoop!” “Bully for Stoop!” “Come out o’ that, Stoop!” was shouted all over the house; but Stoop remained faithful to his post, and calmly ground away at the crank.