Young Slavin was probably more scared than hurt. In his muddled condition, amid the semi-darkness of the lower tower room he might not have discerned or realized what had attacked him.
"He will report me a demon, and his friends will think me one, if he shows up in those tatters, laying his plight to my charge," smiled Ralph. "Well, I fancy 'the young Hercules' has got all the satisfaction he wants for the present."
In about fifteen minutes Ralph leaned from the window to greet a coterie he had been expecting for some time.
Stiggs, placid-faced and leisurely as usual, led a party Ralph had seen grouped around the circus cages on the street tracks at noon.
The six menagerie men still carried their equipment for capturing the escaped tiger: pikes, hooks, halter chain, and muzzle.
The manager, his hat stuck back on his head, nervously chewing a match and urging Stiggs to hurry, looked very much excited.
"Come, can't you hustle a bit?" Ralph heard him say to Stiggs. "Where's your tiger?"
Stiggs pointed up to the switch tower.
"What are you giving me?" demanded the circus manager in disgust--"that's a boy."
"He sent me--he knows where the tiger is," asserted Stiggs.