“What’s the matter here?” asked the keeper. Of course Shaggo could not answer and tell what ailed him, but the man knew something about animals, and when he saw the buffalo crouched down in the corner of the cage and noticed how much larger the lump on the animal’s shoulder had become, the keeper said:
“We’ve got to have a doctor here. I’ll get one.”
A little later another man came in to look at Shaggo—three or four men altogether, but only one was the doctor, and he had a queer smell about him—a smell that Shaggo did not like. The other animals, too, sniffed the air strongly. They did not like drugs or medicine.
“Take a look at the lump on that buffalo’s shoulder, doctor,” said one of the zoo keepers.
“Hum! I can’t see it very well,” the doctor said. “Can’t you bring him out here in the open?”
Shaggo did not pay much attention to what was going on, but, a little later, he felt the prick of a stick which was being poked in his ribs, and naturally, he moved away from it. He limped over to the front of his cage to look at the men gathered there.
“Now I can see the lump better,” said the doctor. “It’s too bad. It must be taken off. That’s the only way to cure that buffalo.”
“How can the lump be taken off?” asked the zoo keeper.
“You’ll have to get another doctor,” replied the first one. “You need a doctor who knows more about animals than I do. There’s one in New York, and I heard he was coming out this way. I’ll see if I can get him.”
“I wish you would,” said the zoo keeper.