“This is the wild lion,” was the answer.

“Oh-o-o-o-o!” exclaimed Sue, getting closer to Bunny.  “A lion!”

“Oh, I’ve got him well trained,” said the boy.  “He won’t hurt you at all.  He won’t even roar if I tell him not to.”

Certainly the lion in the cage seemed very quiet, and the boy carried him very easily.

“I guess maybe he’s a baby lion,” whispered Sue to Bunny.

That afternoon there was a great deal of excitement down at the “circus grounds,” as Bunny and Sue called the place in the meadow where the tents stood.

One of the boys who had been helping Bunker and Ben, came running out of the tent crying: 

“They’re gone!  They’re gone!”

“What’s gone?” asked Ben.

“My white mice!  The cage door is open and they’re all gone!”

CHAPTER XXI

THE BIG CIRCUS

Bunny Brown and his sister Sue looked at one another.  If the white mice had escaped from the circus tent, some of the other animals might also get away.  And suppose that should happen to the lion, which Ben had said was in one of the boxes!  Just suppose!

“I—­I guess we’d better go home, Bunny,” said Sue, in a whisper.

“Yes,” he answered.  “I—­I guess mother wants us.  Come on!”

“What’s the matter?” asked Bunker Blue.  “I thought you were going to stay and help us, Bunny.”

“I—­I was.  But if those mice got away—­”

“Oh, I see!” laughed Bunker Blue.  “You’re afraid some of the other animals might also get out.  But don’t be afraid.  We haven’t any of the other wild beasts in here yet.”

“But that—­that lion,” said Bunny, looking toward the animal tent.

“Oh, he’s asleep,” said Ben.  “Besides he wouldn’t hurt anyone even if he was out of his cage.  You needn’t be afraid.  He’s the only animal, except the mice, that we’ve put in the tent yet.  But how did your mice get out, Sam?” he asked the boy who owned them.

“I don’t know.  They were all right last night, but, when I went to feed them this morning, the cage door was open, and they were all gone.”

“Will—­will they bite?” asked Sue.

“No, they’re very tame and gentle,” answered Sam.  “White mice and white rats, you know, aren’t like the other kind.  I guess being colored white makes them kind and nice.  They run all over me, in my pockets and up my sleeves.  Sometimes they go to sleep in my pockets.

“Why, even my mother isn’t afraid of them, and she’ll let them go to sleep in her lap, and she wouldn’t do that for a black mouse or a black or gray rat.  No sir!”

“No, I guess not!” exclaimed Bunker.  “Other rats and mice would bite.  But it’s too bad your white ones are gone.  We’ll have to find them.  We can’t have a good circus without them.  Everybody help hunt for Sam’s lost mice!” cried Bunker.

“I—­I know how to get them,” said Sue.