Cautiously the rear door of the cage was opened. Two men grasped
Bob by the shoulders and hauled him out with a quick pull.
The crowd shouted in approval.
"All out! Let go!" shouted Mr. Sparling.
It took the strength of two men to pull the tent pole from
Bengal's grip. The instant he lost the pole the beast whirled
and pounced upon the spot where he had left his victim.
Finding that he had lost his prey, the savage beast uttered roar
upon roar, that made every spectator in the tent tremble and draw
back, fearing the animal would break through the bars and attack
them.
"Where's that boy?"
"Here he is, and I guess he's hurt," answered Teddy.
"Give him to me. I'll get him outside where we can get some
decent air into him. Is he much hurt?"
"I--I don't know."
The showman grabbed Phil, and as a helper lifted the bottom of
the tent's side wall, Mr. Sparling ran to his own small tent with
the unconscious Phil.
"Fetch a pail of water."
Teddy ran for the cook tent to get the water. He was amazed to
find no cook tent there. Instead, there remained only the open
plot of grass, trampled down, with a litter of papers and refuse
scattered about.
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