the scream of grinding ironwork, and above it all the roar of frightened animals—tigers, lions, panthers, tossed, still in their cages, to be buried beneath the wreckage, or hurled free to tumble down the embankment. In this dream Johnny crawled from beneath the canvas to find himself staring into the red and gleaming eye of some great cat that was stalking him as its prey. He struggled to draw his clasp knife from his pocket, and in that mad struggle awoke.

With every nerve alert he caught the click-click of wheels, the distant pant of the engine. It had been nothing more than a dream. He was still traveling steadily forward with the circus.

Yet, as he settled back, he gave an involuntary shudder and, propping himself on one elbow, stared through the darkness toward the spot where, in his dream, the great cat had crouched. To his horror, he caught the red gleam of a single burning eye.

Instantly there flashed through his mind the row of great caged cats he had seen that day. Pacing the floor of their dens, pausing now and again for a leap, a growl, a snarl, they had fascinated him then. Now his blood ran cold at the thought of the creature which, having escaped from its cage, had crept along the swinging cars, leaping lightly from one to the other until the scent of a man had arrested its course. Was it the Senegal lion? Johnny doubted that. Perhaps the tawny yellow Bengal tiger, or the more magnificent one from Siberia.

All this time, while his mind had worked with the speed of a wireless, Johnny’s hand was struggling to free his clasp knife.

Once more his eye sought the ball of fire. Suddenly as it had come, so suddenly it had vanished. He started in astonishment. Yet he was not to be deceived. The creature had turned its head. It was moving. Perhaps at this very moment it was crouching for a spring. A huge pile of canvas loomed above Johnny. A leap from this vantage, the tearing of claws, the sinking of fangs, and this circus train would have witnessed a tragedy.

He strained his ears for a sound, but heard none. He strove to make out a bulk in the dark, but saw nothing. Could it be a tiger or mountain lion, jaguar or spotted leopard? Or was it the black leopard from Asia? A fresh chill ran down Johnny’s spine at thought of this creature. Other great cats had paced their cages, growled, snarled; the black leopard, smaller than any, but muscular, sharp clawed, keen fanged, with glowering eyes, had lurked in the corner of his cage and gloomed at those who passed. It was this animal that Johnny feared the most.

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