At last the celebrated animal doctor arrived. One evening Shaggo saw a number of men enter the zoo and walk over to his cage. There was that same, queer medicine smell.
“There’s the buffalo,” said the zoo keeper. “Can you cure that lump on his shoulder, doc?”
“I think so,” answered a big, bearded man, who wore large shiny glasses. “But first we must put the buffalo to sleep and bind him with ropes so he will not kick when I try to cure him. Yes, we must put him to sleep.”
Of course Shaggo did not know what all this talk meant, and he was rather frightened when, a little later, a number of men poked long poles through the bars of his cage. Some of the poles had ropes on them, and though he tried to keep out of the way of these ropes, they were soon cast about his legs, and poor Shaggo found himself all tangled up.
“Dido! Dido! What are they doing to me?” bellowed Shaggo to his friend the dancing bear.
“Don’t worry, Shaggo,” Dido answered. “They will not hurt you. The keepers are trying to cure your indigestion, or whatever it is you have. They will not hurt you.”
But Shaggo could not believe this, so he kicked and struggled, hurting his sore shoulder all the more, until, at last, he was so tangled in the ropes that he fell down on the bottom of his cage.
“Ah, now we have him!” said the doctor. “Now I’ll put him to sleep, and cure him.”
Shaggo was now so tied with ropes that he could not move. He lay on one side, and a moment later a cloth was put over his nose. There was a strange, sweetish smell to the cloth. Shaggo tried not to breathe the perfume from it, but he could not help himself. He began to feel very strange. His breath came more and more slowly. Then he began to feel as if he were once again sailing through the air as he did when he jumped. He seemed to be floating on clouds or a feather bed. His eyes closed—he could hear, as though from a far distance, the voice of Dido saying:
“They won’t hurt you, Shaggo.”