Billy Whiskers at the Circus

by Frances Trego Montgomery

The cage before which Billy now stopped was marked in big gilt letters:

AFRICAN LION, KING OF BEASTS.

Somehow this did not please Billy Whiskers. Though he would not have admitted it, down deep in his heart he thought that he himself was probably the king of beasts, and it did not suit him to see that another was thus publicly given this proud title.

“I’ll stop and see what he looks like,” thought Billy. “I don’t believe he is so much after all. If I get the chance I’ll make him feel small enough.”

All this time Billy had not been able to see the lion on account of the crowd of people before his cage. At last he squeezed to the front row and took his first look. That alone would have been quite enough to convince Billy that he was justly entitled to be called king of beasts, but other proof was not lacking, for as soon as the great, shaggy-headed lion saw a goat was gazing at him he was so surprised that he let out a terrific roar.

Even the people were startled and shrank back. As for Billy, he would certainly have keeled over in a fit of fright had not the legs of the on-lookers crowded against his sides so tight that he was held up in spite of himself. His giddiness passed away in a minute or two, but came near overcoming him a second time when he perceived that the great lion was addressing his remarks to him.

In telling the story afterward, Billy could never remember exactly what was said, he was so rattled at the time.

In spite of the lion’s great voice and savage appearance, Billy was surprised to find that his remarks were not unkind so far as he was personally concerned, but perfectly shocking about his captivity, the sort of life he was obliged to live, the dead meat he had to eat, the people who looked at him and never once remembered the suffering he daily endured.

“Little goat,” roared the lion, “I wish I could change places with you. Though I am called king of beasts, I would gladly give the title and all that goes with it to any free member of the animal kingdom, little or big, who will exchange his freedom with my captivity. I came from over the sea. My home is in the wild African desert where for ages my ancestors have reigned supreme. Boundless was our kingdom and no one there dared to oppose our will. My food I got by strength, and stealth, and cunning. Like all my race, I scorned to eat that which any other had killed. All went well with me and mine until a strange terror crept over the length and breadth of our wide domain. I heard the story, and laughed, when I heard it, that black men from the coast country were coming to the desert to capture the lions, that they had been bidden to do this by the king of the Belgians who in some way had cast an evil spell over them so that they had no choice but to obey his will, that if they failed of success they were tortured, maimed and even put to death. It was said that we lions were valuable and could be sold for much gold and that was why we were wanted.