“No, I don’t guess I could, Ranger.” His chin quivered a little.
“What does it make you think of, Scout?”
“A circus?” His face fell. “I saw a moving picture once—”
“It’s like creation; it’s the first chapter of Genesis.... Boy, it isn’t given to many to see a thing like this; we must remember it all the days of our life. We are watching the earth bring forth the living creature ... cattle and creeping thing and beast of the earth....”
“Yes, sir,” said the Scout, earnestly.
All the animals for miles about must have been congregated in that cañon; it had been, until now, scatheless, and there was water, but their sanctuary had betrayed them and they were fleeing for their lives from the red terror, passing the lesser enemy with hardly a conscious look. They came on for an incredible time but there was an end of them at last. Small stragglers came gasping at the heels of the procession and scurried by; then the slope was empty of movement.
Dean Wolcott drew a long breath. “Now, we’ll get to work, Scout; plenty of time to stop it.”
But the boy pointed excitedly. “Look—there’s one more lion, all alone!”
It was far below them, standing still, a beautiful great beast, and it lifted its head and called, a long, seeking, mournful cry.
“It’s lost its mate, Scout; it doesn’t want to go without it. That’s pretty fine, isn’t it, with the fire just three jumps behind?”