"Not for me!" he breathed. "Rajah is right there, teetering back and forth from side to side, and winding his trunk around everything in sight."
"Where was Ben Ali?" demanded Burton, a glitter rising in his eyes.
"Getting out under the cages on the other side of the tent," replied McGlory. "I'll see if I can't head him off."
With that the cowboy shot out of the lean-to. Matt didn't think the effort to catch Ben Ali worth while, and once more dropped down on the pile of straw.
For a few moments Boss Burton walked back and forth in front of him, hands behind his back, head bowed in thought, and a black frown on his face. Abruptly he halted in front of Matt.
"The infernal Hindoo drew a knife on me!" he scowled.
Matt nodded. The fact had been too plain to call for comment.
"I'd pull the pin on Ben Ali in half a minute," continued Boss Burton, "if it wasn't for Haidee."
"Where did you pick up Ben Ali and Haidee?" inquired Matt.
"In Wisconsin," was the answer, "just as the show was starting out of its winter quarters. Rajah had run amuck, wounded a horse, smashed a wagon, and come within an ace of killing his keeper. Ben Ali applied for the job of looking after him, and I let him have it. He's been the only one, so far, who could take care of Rajah."