Two cages contained unusually fine specimens of lions, and near one was a caretaker, waiting for the lions to be taken into the big performing cage, after which he would clean the cage and have it ready on the shaggy maned animal’s return from the ring.
“Wicked looking beast, isn’t he,” Garry remarked to the man who stood near the cage.
“He is that, boss,” answered the man. “He’s a a new one, and we don’t know him very well. We had a nice old chap before him, too old and tired and toothless to do any harm, but this one is young and vicious. The trainer has a lot of trouble with him, too.”
A sound of band music made the boys hurry to their seats, and soon the “Grand entry” was on.
Several of the usual acts were put on, and then razorbacks, as the circus workers are called, pulled away some of the planking of the platform in the center of the arena, disclosing a tank filled with water.
Soon the boys espied Dick advancing to the platform, his chubby body enclosed in a glaring red bathing suit. He mounted to the tank, and the chums could see him gazing about trying to locate them, but this he failed to do.
The ringmaster made a short speech, telling a lot of stuff about Dick that made the chums grin.
“Guess one has to be a blood relation of Ananias to be a ringmaster,” laughed Garry. “The only diving Dick has ever done before the crowned heads of Europe was before they were crowned.”
After the laudatory speech, Dick climbed up the high ladder and stood perched on the little square platform at the top. As he had been told to do outside the big top, he dropped a handkerchief which slowly fluttered down to the ground below. This is an old trick of high divers and is done merely to accentuate the distance.
Then the drummer started a long ruffle, and casting one downward look, Dick tipped off the platform. Both Phil and Garry were just a trifle nervous as he leaped, although they were well aware of his ability.