We went forward again and a few moments later the first part of our Quest for Youth was over.
"There!" said his Majesty, with a contemplative expectoration. "That's Alfred!"
For fully half a minute, there was no movement in the cage, and we merely stood gazing at a heap of slowly rising and falling straw.
Then an arm and leg protruded and stretched themselves. They were followed by one of the most hideous-looking faces imaginable. Deep-sunk, wicked little eyes glared at us from beneath heavy, overhanging ridges of bone; a cavernous mouth yawned wide open, with dreadful rows of huge teeth fringing its black-gummed edges; a thick tuft of hair oscillated up and down above the low forehead; and suddenly a nerve-shattering roar reverberated against the wooden walls of the cage.
With a bound the animal sprang forward, flung its arm between two of the iron bars and tried to grab Gran'pa by his most cherished adornment—his long white beard.
"Look out!" I cried.
The old man jumped nimbly aside, giving a shout of amazement and clumsily treading on my toes.
I steadied him.
"You really ought to be more careful," I said, glancing at the Animal King, who was chuckling to himself.
"That chap's the very devil when he's roused," said his owner. "Quiet, Alfred!"