Bert Wilson on the Gridiron

by J. W. Duffield

The group of collegians had stood stupefied for a few minutes watching the escaped lion, for such the animal proved to be. The big brute seemed bewildered by the crowds and the shouting, and knew not what use to make of his new-found freedom. But suddenly he emitted a deep roar, and bounded toward the main exit, in which a struggling, shouting crowd was now solidly packed. Suddenly Bert sprang into action. "Head him off! head him off!" he shouted and, suiting the action to the word, started diagonally toward the entrance. Tom and Dick were close after him, followed by the more courageous of their companions. By this time several of the animal keepers and trainers had also struggled through the press, and were hot in pursuit of the fleeing lion. But they were too far behind to be of any good, and the lion would surely have dashed headlong into the packed mass of humanity had not Bert and the others with him intervened. They waved their hats and shouted, and the lion, somewhat taken aback, halted for a second. Then he gathered himself together and, with a mighty bound, leaped clear over their heads. With another spring he cleared the crowd at the entrance, and was free. He hesitated a moment, looking this way and that, and then, just as one of the keepers, a rifle in his hand, reached the tent entrance, bounded swiftly forward and disappeared around a corner.

The trainers started out in hot pursuit, accompanied by Bert and his friends. "I don't want to shoot him," panted the man with the rifle as he ran, "he's worth five thousand dollars. He's one of the finest lions in captivity, and his loss would mean a bad blow to the outfit. But if I get a crack at him I'll shoot, just the same. We can't run the risk of trying to capture him alive."

It was not difficult to trace the lion's path, although not once did they actually catch sight of him. Distant shouts and cries told of the beast's progress, and their path was lined by closely shut doors and pale faces peering from upper windows. Soon they reached the outskirts of the town and then, in the more open country, were able to catch a glimpse of their quarry. He was about half a mile distant, and evidently making directly for a dense piece of woodland just ahead of him. Soon he disappeared among the trees, and the man carrying the rifle, who was evidently the head trainer, called a halt.

"How far do those woods extend?" he asked Bert.

"Not very far," replied Bert. "I should say there's not more than a square mile of woodland, at most."

"Well, then," said the other, "the chances are ten to one that Leo will stick to the trees, and not come out unless he has to. In that case, all we have to do is surround the place to see that he doesn't get away. Then I don't think we'll have much trouble recapturing him."

As this seemed to be the opinion of his assistants, too, their leader sent one of them back to the circus to make a report and bring out reinforcements, and then made plans to surround the strip of woods. By this time quite a crowd had collected, and the animal trainer selected volunteers to set up a guard about the trees and give warning if the lion attempted to break cover.

"All you have to do," he explained, "is to climb a tree near where I post you, and if you see anything of the lion, sing out. He can't climb a tree, of course, so you'll be perfectly safe."

There was no lack of volunteers, and our three comrades were among the first to proffer their services. "This is a little more than we had counted on," laughed Tom; "we expected some excitement for our money, of course, but nothing like this."

"Well, we won't kick now that it is handed to us," remarked Bert; "it begins to seem like old times again. Only that time we were up against a tiger instead of a lion."