The little boy was partway inside the hole, clinging to the edge with both hands. "Doggie," he sobbed.
The lioness crouched, sprang into the hole. A crash, a bellow and a thin scream came from within. The lioness reappeared, its eyes glittering and its fur on end. It gripped the little boy by the cape and trotted off, growling.
"Good dog!" cried the man.
Men in the shops' doorways echoed his shout.
"A kid," said the man. "They have to learn sometime, I know, but—" He cut himself short. "Well, all's well that ends well." He glanced respectfully at Dan. "If you're here any length of time, sir, we'd certainly appreciate your looking into this. And if you're planning to stay long—well, as you see, our sweepers are hungry—our main store is on 122 Center Street. Our vacation advisor might be of some service to you."
"Thank you," said Dan, his throat dry.
"Not at all, Devisement." The man went inside, muttering, "A kid."
Dan passed several more shops without seeing very much. He turned the corner. Across the street, where the boy had been, was a dented brass plate at the base of the building. On Dan's side of the street, trotting toward him, was a big, tawny-maned lion. Dan hesitated, then started up the street.
There was a faint clash of metal.
Swish-swish.