Eddie Riggs, reporter for the Express, clucked sympathetically.
'Maybe they aren't getting the right vitamins, Pop,' he suggested.
Pop disagreed.
'It ain't that,' he said. 'They're gettin' the same feed we always give 'em. Plenty raw meat. But they're restless as all git-out. A cat is a lazy critter. Sleeps hours at a stretch and always takin' naps. But they don't do that no more. Cranky. Fightin' among themselves. I had to give Nero a good whoppin' the other day when he tried to beat up Percy. And when I did he made a pass at me — me, who's took care of him since he was a cub.'
From across the water-moat Nero snarled menacingly at Pop.
'He's still got it in for me,' Pop said. 'If he don't quiet down, I'll give him a raw-hidin' he'll remember. There ain't no lion can get gay with me.'
He glanced apprehensively at the lion-run.
'I sure hope they calm down,' he said. 'This is Saturday and there'll be a big crowd this afternoon. Always makes them nervous, a crowd does, and the way they are now there'll be no holdin' 'em.'
'Anything else you heard of going on?' Riggs asked. Pop scratched his chin.
'Susan died this morning,' he declared.