n picked up, dazed, stunned, but
without a mark. Mr. Carroll had crept away unaided amid the confusion,
the sorrow, and tears, for the splendid Queen was doomed and done for!
Though Mr. Miles had risked his own life in an awful leap to save her
from falling through a trap, he could not save her life, and the almost
human groan with which she dropped her lovely head upon her master's
shoulder, and his streaming eyes as he tenderly wiped the blood from her
velvety nostrils, made even the scene-shifters rub their eyes upon the
backs of their hands. While the Queen was half carried and half crept to
the fire-engine house next door (her stable was so far away), someone was
going before the curtain, assuring the audience that the accident was
very slight, and the lady and gentleman would both be before them
presently, and the audience applauded in a rather doubtful manner, for
several ladies had fainted, and the carrying out of a helpless person
from a place of amusement always has a depressing effect upon the
lookers-on. Meantime Mr. Carroll was getting his wrist bandaged and a cut
on his face strapped up, while a basket of sawdust was hurriedly procured
that certain cruel stains might be concealed. The orchestra played
briskly and the play went on. That's the one thing we can be sure of in
this world--that the play will go on. That night, late, the beautiful
Queen died with her head resting on her master's knee.

Now "Mazeppa" was billed for the next night, and there were many
consultations held in the office and on the stage. "The wild horse of
Tartary" was gone. It was impossible to find a new horse in one day.

"Change the bill!" said Mr. Miles.

"And have an empty house," answered Mr. Ellsler.

"But what can I do for a horse?" asked R. E. J. M.

"Use old Bob," answered Mr. Ellsler.

"Good Lord!" groaned Bob's master. They argued long, but neither wanted
to lose the good house, so the bill was allowed to stand, and "Mazeppa"
was performed with old white Bob as the "Wild Horse of Tartary." Think of
it, that ingratiating old Bob! That follower of women and playmate of
children! Why, even the great bay blotches on his white old hide made one
think of the circus, paper hoops, and _training_, rather than of
wildness. Meaning to make him at least impatient and restless, he had
been deprived of his supper, and the result was a settled gloom, an air
of melancholy that made Mr. Miles swear under his breath every time he
loo