"They seem to be very—noisy," I ventured.
"Queer things," answered the Great Animal King. "They spots a stranger at once at this time o' night. Must be the smell."
I glanced at Gran'pa, trotting along by my side, and wondered whether it was he or I who most irritated their sensitive nostrils.
"Here we are!" said our companion, lifting a great flap of canvas and allowing us to enter.
We passed into the huge arena, waited a moment until the electric light was switched on, and then began gazing at the startled animals pacing backwards and forwards behind the iron bars of their prisons.
"That's a fine brute," said the King, pointing to a great lion, which suddenly paused and eyed Gran'pa with interest.
"Y-e-s!" I said.
I didn't like the business a bit. There was something so uncanny in the spectacle of us three poor little humans surrounded by all his collection of carnivorous and hungry-looking beasts. It didn't feel safe, and the object of our visit didn't seem right and fair. It may have been an epitome of brains versus beef—civilization versus barbarism—but the whole affair savored too much of wicked cunning and evil intentions. The right and gentlemanly thing would have been for Gran'pa to have gone into that gorilla's cage unarmed—and fought for his glands. . . .
I turned and looked at the old man. He was very quiet and solemn—obsessed, no doubt, by the same thoughts as myself.
"This way, gentlemen," said our companion.