"Go on," suggested one at his elbow.
But the constable let his arm fall against his side, and said:
"I had a good thing about the emblem of British tyranny, but he put me out. Will give a hundred dollars, eh? That's another matter altogether. But I say, Mr. Kincade, how shall we go to work to capture a lion? That sort of game ain't abundant in these parts, and I don't think there's any one here that's ever hunted 'em."
Old Mr. Scrapton, who was known to be the teller of the most amazing stories ever heard in the neighborhood, opened his mouth to relate how he had lassoed lions forty years before, when he was hunting on the plains of Texas, but he restrained himself. He thought it best to wait till this particular beast had been disposed of and was out of the neighborhood.
"I may say, gentlemen," added the showman, with a peculiar smile, "that this lion is not so savage and dangerous as most people think. You will call to mind, although he broke loose in the afternoon, when the tent was crowded with people, and when he had every opportunity he could wish, yet he did not hurt any one."
"That is a very remarkable circumstance," said the constable, in a low voice, heard by all.
"I am warranted, therefore," added Mr. Kincade, "in saying that there is no cause for such extreme fright on your part. You should fix some sort of cage and bait it with meat. Then watch, and when he goes in spring the trap, and there he is."
"Yes, but will he stay there?"
"If the trap is strong enough."
"How would it do to lasso him?"