imitate the different breeds--hound-dog, bull-pup,
terrier--but the manager was definitely shaking his head.

Suddenly his partner spoke. "The girl might take a turn!"

"In the show?" the portly man said in surprise.

"The Company's Una weighs two hundred pounds and has a face as broad as
a barn-door. She shows she is afraid of the lion when she stands beside
him in the street parade, and--curse him--he is so clever that he knows
it, no matter how he is doped. It incites him to growl at her all
through the pageant, and that simply queers the sweet peace of the
idea."

"And you think this untrained girl could take her place?"

"Why not? She couldn't do worse--and she _could_ look the part. See," he
continued, in as business-like way as if Valeria were merely a bale of
goods or deaf, "ethereal figure, poetic type of beauty, fine expression
of candor and serene courage. She has a look of open-eyed innocence--I
don't mean _ignorance_." He made a subtle distinction in the untutored
aspect of the two countenances before him.

"Would you be afraid of the lion, child?" the stout man asked Valeria.
"He is chained--and drugged, too--in the pageant."

It was difficult for the astonished Valeria to find her voice. "A lion?"
she murmured. "I never seen a lion."

"No? Honest?" they both cried in amazement that such a thing could be.
The portly man's rollicking laughter rang out through the thin walls of
canvas to such effect that some savage caged beast within reach of the
elastic buoyant sound was roused to anger and supplemented it with a
rancorous snarl.

Valeria listened apprehensively, with dilated eyes. She thought of the
lion, the ferocious creature that she had never seen. She thought of the
massive strong woman who knew and feared him. Then she remembered the
desolate old grandparents and their hopeless, helpless poverty. "I'll
resk the lion," she said with a tremulous bated voice.

"That's a brave girl," cried the manager.

"I hev read 'bout Daniel's lions an' him in the den," she explained.
"An' Daniel hed consid'ble trust an' warn't afeard--an' mebbe I won't
be afeard nuther."

"Daniel's Lions? Daniel's Lions?" the portly manager repeated
attentively. "I don't know the show--perhaps in some combination now."
For if he had ever heard of that signal leonine incident recorded in
Scripture he had forgotten it. "Yes, yes," as Valeria eagerly appealed
to him in behalf of Brent, "we must try to give Hubby some lit