Whether “Curly” was careless and mistook the cage will never be known, but the other attendants were appalled by terrible screams issuing from Rajah’s cage, and on rushing forward saw to their horror that the man was being held in the tiger’s mouth by his head. The details are too terrible to go into, but here again Mr. Stevenson, who has earned for himself the name of the Guardian Angel of the Show, rushed into the cage, and, at the peril of his life, did his best with iron bars to force the tiger to let go.
But nothing would induce the beast to relax his hold, and in the midst of his growling the man was calling piteously for help. After this, pistols were fired at him; but, when warned to come out, Sam Stevenson would not leave the man, although he was surrounded by bullets, each one of which was likely to strike him at any moment. Rajah was hit once or twice, but he only let go his hold on the man’s head to take a firmer one round his waist.
Neilson was eventually drawn out, but he died soon afterward, to the deep grief of all in the show. Most trainers are superstitious, and great attention was drawn at the time to the fact of the number thirteen playing so prominent a part in the boy’s history. He was born on the thirteenth, had thirteen letters in his name, and so forth.
It is, perhaps, the living in this perpetual state or atmosphere of danger which causes indifference and, in some cases, neglect on the part of the attendants. Each man and boy knows perfectly well that he is daily exposed to bites and scratches, and, perhaps, fearful mutilation; for all this is carefully impressed on every newcomer,—sometimes so much so that they depart with a shiver, which proves them totally unsuitable. The treachery of the animals is almost daily demonstrated in some way or another; the attendants are often witnesses of what terrible things wild animals can do, and yet I have seen them pass close to the cages, or stand indifferently by them, when every moment they were risking the loss of a limb, and, perhaps, their lives.
I am always afraid of accidents with an extremely quiet man,—a man, that is, who never speaks to or appears to take any notice of the animals. All wild animals are very sensitive, and seem to know instinctively when people are interested in them. A friendly word or a little interest goes a long way with them. Captain Bonavita, for instance, never speaks to his lions when performing, but he loves his animals and takes the greatest interest in them, and when in their cages talks to each one by name.
Whenever I notice an attendant who evidently takes no interest whatever in the animals, I invariably get rid of him. He may be in the show for some time, but one of these days the animals will get him; so, to prevent a bad “accident,” I consider it wise to let him go.
MR. SAM STEVENSON
Whose bravery in saving lives has earned for him the sobriquet of “The Guardian Angel”
A very small error is often the cause of a serious accident, and this I experienced myself at one time with Rajah, the tiger who killed Albert Neilson. I had been putting this animal through his rehearsal one day, and was returning through the runway to shut him in his cage. By an error on the part of an attendant, the door was not shut as it should have been, and Rajah had an opportunity to jump on my defenseless back. It was an opportunity he did not hesitate to seize immediately. The indiscretion of this attendant nearly cost me my life. Rajah got his fangs inside the head-protector I wore, and his claws into my body. After the first terrible sensation of tearing, I remember nothing more, for I became unconscious, and, in addition to other injuries, had concussion of the brain afterward.