They now turned their attention to the cage where the trainer had begun with the savage tiger.
“Bengal is in an ugly temper about something tonight,” announced Mr. Sparling in a low tone. “Better be careful, Bob,” he cautioned, after having stepped up close to the cage.
“I’ll take care of him,” answered the trainer, without taking his eyes from the beast for the fraction of a second.
Phil had heard the dialogue and now drew closer to the cage, stepping under the rope and joining Mr. Sparling.
Teddy, of course, not to be left behind, crawled under the rope also.
“Sit down in front,” shouted someone. “We can’t see the animals play.”
In a moment the spectators saw a play that was not down on the bills.
Bob was swinging the whip over Bengal’s nose, the cruel lash cutting the tender snout with every blow. But he was not doing it from sheer cruelty, as many of the spectators who raised their voices in loud protest imagined.
Not understanding wild animals as the trainer did, they did not realize that this plucky fellow was fighting for his life, even though he used but a slender rawhide in his effort to do so.
Bengal was crowding him. The least mistake on the trainer’s part now and the savage tiger would put a quick and terrible end to him.