He picked up an iron rod, thrust it into the cage, between the bars, and gave the creature, which had the honor to hail from California, an abrupt poke on the ribs. The result fairly startled me. The animal, which had appeared as docile as a kitten a moment before, now sprang up, uttered a growl as fierce as thunder only ten yards distant, displayed a mouthful of sharp white teeth an inch long, and fastened upon the iron rod with its savage jaws. At the same time its eyes glared like balls of fire, and seemed ready to dart out at me. Altogether, the savage creature looked as though it could bite a man’s leg off without noticing that there was a bone in it.
“What if you had put your hand in?” said Major Kline.
“It would have bit it off, I suppose,” I returned; “and I couldn’t well afford to lose it.”
“Yes,” said Pete Ohmer, “he could snap your hand off in a second, and eat it up; and it would only give him an appetite to eat the rest of you.”
I could not help congratulating myself on my narrow escape, and resolved never to trust my hand to an unknown animal, merely because I liked its gentle appearance.
CHAPTER XXIX.
Falls City and Cave City.
EARLY in May, I left Cincinnati and went to Louisville, Kentucky, one hundred and fifty miles down the river. I took passage on a splendid steamer—one of the finest on the Ohio or Mississippi. The fare was only two dollars, and each passenger was furnished with two excellent meals by the way, and a state-room berth when night came. It will naturally be thought that this was remarkably cheap; and so it was. But it was the result of competition. “Opposition” boats were at that time running between Cincinnati and Louisville, and the fare—usually four or five dollars—had crawled down to two. Certainly “Competition is the life of trade.”
This, however, does not quite equal, for extreme consistence, the rates of fare on the Hudson river boats some years ago, when an “Opposition line” from New York to Albany was established. The distance from New York to Albany is about the same as that from Cincinnati to Louisville; and the fare got lower and lower, at one period, till any weary traveler could go from New York to Albany—or vice versa—for twelve cents—meals not included. Nor did the freaks of competition end then. One of the lines, at last, concluding that the difference between twelve cents and nothing was but a mere trifle, reduced the fare twelve cents, and carried passengers a week or two for nothing. Not to be outdone, the other line not only carried all for nothing, but promptly paid each passenger a premium of six cents for riding from one place to the other. It will be naturally supposed that they could not make much at such rates, but it is said that the number of passengers was so great that they did a better business then than they had done when the fare was two-and-a-half dollars.
Louisville is the largest city in Kentucky—its population being now about ninety thousand. It is a great tobacco market, and has some of the most extensive warehouses, for the storage of that weed, in the United States. The principal business street in the city is called Main street, and it is one that would do no discredit to any city. It is wide, perfectly straight, about four miles long, and is lined with fine large buildings occupied by merchants. A well-conducted passenger railway is laid on this street.
Louisville is also called the “Falls City,” because the Ohio river there takes a considerable fall, so that steamboats, except at high water, are compelled to pass through a canal with several locks. The Falls of the Ohio at Louisville, are not abrupt, but extend with a gradual descent, over two or three miles. Opposite Louisville is the town of Jeffersonville, Indiana; and three miles below, on the Indiana side, is the city of New Albany, with a population of about sixteen thousand. Of course I visited those places.