"Up, Nero! Up! Sit on the table!"
And though Nero did not know the little girl, and did not remember having seen her before, the trained lion knew what the words meant. He had heard his trainer say them many, many times. So Nero slowly walked over to the table, got up on it with a jump, and then and there, right in front of the tramp and the little girl and her father and mother, Nero sat on his hind legs on the table, just as he was accustomed to sit on a stool in the circus ring.
"There! What did I tell you?" cried the little girl, clapping her hands. "I knew he was the tame, circus lion! Doesn't he sit up nice?"
"Yes," said the farmer, "he does. But there is no telling how long he may sit there. He must have escaped from the circus, and I had better telephone the men that he is here. They'll be glad to get him back."
"It's a good thing he scared the tramp," said the farmer's wife, as she looked at the ragged man. "What are you doing here, anyhow?" she asked him.
"I—I just came in to get something to eat," he whined. "And then your lion wouldn't let me go."
"He isn't my lion," replied the farmer. "But he's done me a good turn. I'll have the constable come here and take you away."
And a little later the constable, who had been telephoned for, came and took the tramp to jail. Nero looked on, wondering what it was all about, and wishing some one would give him something to eat. And the little girl thought of this.
"The tramp has spoiled the ham for us, Mother," she said. "Can't I give the rest of it to Nero?"