“Did any other lions escape?” asked the doctor’s son.

“No; but one of the big monkeys is missing—–­the educated one.”

“Do you mean Abe, the educated chimpanzee?” queried Snap.

“That’s the fellow—–­the one who eats, drinks, smokes and does all sorts of stunts.  He’s missing, and the circus men are more worried over him than over the lion.  One man said the chim—–­what-do-you-call-him was worth a thousand dollars.”

“I believe that—–­being educated to do so many things,” said Whopper.  “He sat up to a table to eat just like a man.”

“Did you hear how the lion and the chimpanzee happened to get away?” asked Giant.

“Why, there was a report it was the fault of four rascals who used to work for the circus—–­three men who were discharged for getting drunk, and a boy who did stunts on the trapeze and ran away.”

“That boy!” cried Snap.  “Oh, I don’t think he had anything to do with it.”

“Well, that’s what the circus men say.  If they catch the men and the boy they’ll have the whole crowd locked up.”

“I am sure the boy is innocent,” said the doctor’s son.

“I got shot by somebody hunting that lion,” said Giant.  “Do you know who fired his shotgun out yonder?”

“Oh, that was Hank Donaldson.  He’s always blowing about what he can do with a gun, and he was so worked up and nervous he killed Mack’s dog and smashed the plate-glass window in the new five-and-ten-cent store.  He got scared to death when somebody told him a boy over here fell from the roof and got hit.  Is it bad?”

“No, but it might have been.”

“You ought to pitch into Hank.  He ought to know better than to fire so promiscuous-like in the city streets.  He meant well, but if he had killed you, what then?” And the man passed on, shaking his head earnestly.

In the morning Giant felt quite like himself and insisted upon leaving off the bandage that had been placed over his forehead.

“I don’t want to become an object of curiosity,” he explained.  “Even as it is, I suppose lots of folks will want to know all about it.”

While the boys were eating the door bell rang, and the hired girl announced a man to see the lad who had been shot.  The visitor proved to be Hank Donaldson, a big, burly fellow, now nervous to the degree of collapsing.

“I—–­I hope yer don’t think I did it a-purpose,” said Donaldson.  “’Cos I didn’t—–­I only wanted to shoot that ’ere lion, ’fore he ate sombuddy up.”

“I understand,” answered Giant.  “But you were very careless.  After this you had better give up lion hunting.”

“I sure will.  I am very sorry—–­yes, I am.  Hope you’ll forgive it.”

“I will—–­if you didn’t mean it,” answered Giant.

“I’ve got a heap o’ troubles, I have,” went on Hank Donaldson.  “Got to pay ’bout a hundred dollars fer a plate-glass winder I smashed, an’ got to pay fer a dorg, too.  Ye don’t catch me huntin’ lions no more.”  And he heaved a mountainous sigh.  A few minutes later he departed, saying he hoped Giant would soon get over his hurts.