When it came to the bear's turn, the whip cracked a special signal.
Whereupon, instead of ignoring the hoop as he had done before, he
stuck his head through it and marched off with it hanging on his neck.
All four hoops he gathered up in this way, and, retiring with them to
his place, stood shuffling restlessly and grunting with impatience
until he was relieved of the awkward burden.

A moment later four more hoops were handed to the attendants. They
looked like the first lot; but the attendants took them with hooked
handles of iron and held them out at arm's length. Touched with a
match, they burst instantly into leaping yellow flames; whereupon all
the beasts, except King, stirred uneasily on their pedestals. The whip
snapped with emphasis; and all the beasts--except King, who sat eying
the flames tranquilly, and the bear, who whined his disapproval, but
knew that he was not expected to take part in this act--formed again
in procession, and ran at the flaming hoops as if to jump through them
as before. But each, on arriving at a hoop, crouched flat and scurried
under it like a frightened cat--except the white goat, which pranced
aside and capered past derisively. Pretending to be much disappointed
in them, Signor Tomaso ordered them all back to their places, and,
folding his arms, stood with his head lowered as if wondering what to
do about it. Upon this, King descended proudly from his pedestal and
approached the blazing terrors. With easiest grace and nonchalance he
lifted his lithe body, and went bounding lightly through the hoops,
one after the other. The audience stormed its applause. Twice around
this terrifying circuit he went, as indifferent to the writhing flames
as if they had been so much grass waving in the wind. Then he stopped
abruptly, turned his head, and looked at Tomaso in expectation. The
latter came up, fondled his ears, and assured him that he had done
wonders. Then King returned to his place, elation bristling in his
whiskers.

While the flaming hoops were being rushed from the ring and the
audience was settling down again to the quiet of unlimited
expectation, a particularly elaborate act was being prepared. A
massive wooden stand, with shelves and seats at various heights, was
brought in. Signor Tomaso, coiling the lash of his whip and holding
the heavy handle, with its loaded butt, as a sceptre, took his place
on a somewhat raised seat at the centre of the frame. Hansen, with his
pitchfork