MENAGERIE JOE.

Otago Witness, Issue 3148, 15 July 1914, Page 81

MENAGERIE JOE.

By Everett Green.

[Copyright.], “It Isn’t that I don’t care, Joe; yon know it isn’t. It’s just dad. He won’|> hear of it—l know he won’t. Ever since I’ve been quite little it’s been the same. He wants to make a lady of me. H© doesn’t want me to have anything to do . with the show. I shouldn’t have been here now if mother hadn’t got ill. And if I hadn’t come I’d never have seen you.' You weren’t here last time I came to see them.” She looked with open admiration at tha tall, fine-looking fellow who stood leaning against the big oak tree. She thought she had never seen a finer kind of man in all her life. He had been all round the world, and had done all sorts of wonderful things,. and seen more than she knew there was to see on his travels. And' he was simply splendid with the beasts —those dreadful wild creatures in the cages that she never herself watched without a tremor of fear. As a little child she had been frightened bv an accident in the lions’ cage of which she had been a witness; and ever since, although fascinated by the beautiful, sullen, inmates of the travelling show, she always felt a qualm of fear when doors were opened or persons went.in and out. ' It was simply frightfully exciting to' watch Joe among them. He did things nobody else had ever dreamed of attempting, and she could not help watching him, her heart in her mouth. And in the daytime Joe would often talk with her, and tell her stories that sent delicious thrills down her spine. And when he went to drill the animals and put them through their paces, or teach them new 7 tricks, she must needs watch him, all in a quiver* of suppressed admiration and nervdusness. And suddenly she found that Joe had fallen in love with her—not in the silly insipid way she was used to from tho young men in the town where her aunt lived, and w'here she was learning to be “ quite a lady ” in her fond parents’ estimation, but in a great fierce, hungrv way that seemed to take her off her feet, and I carry. her she knew not whither. It was perfectly delicious, and she loved to be alone with him and hear his passionate protests; but she was just a little frightened , too; for pretty Annie had never attempted to be anything but a dutiful and submissive daughter; and she was quite, quite sure that her father would never hear of such a thing as a marriage between her and this big silent assistant of his who went by the name of “ Menagerie Joe.” “ But I am here now, Annie, and sc are you, And I love you, and you love me. And if you will just say that you are ready to give yourself to me, and come to me, and take me for better, for worse ” “Oh, Joe, you hurt me! You are so fearfully strong !” “ Did I hurt you, my darling? I be§ ten thousand pardons. But Annie, t want you —I want you so terribly! And I mean to have you. And when I mean a thing, I get it. Don’t you forget that I But I want you willing—l want every bit of your heart. I want your love and your life, and I’ll give you all of mine. Annio, Annie, do you dare to tell mo that you do not love me?” She never attempted such a denial. She had him fast by the lapel of his jacket, and her bright eyes were fixed hungrily upon his handsome face. Joe made a splendid lover, she thought, if only ho had not been her father’s hired servant. He was not one bit like anybody else she had ever seen or dreamed of. wven in the 'pages of the romances which she eagerly devoured she had never seen portrayed such a masterful personality as this. So their eyes met, and then their lips, and Annie felt lifted up into a new region of delight such as she had never dreamed of heretofore. But, oh, for the short-livedness of lovers’ happy moments! A harsh strident voice was heard angrily shouting in the distance, and the next moment Annie’s infuriated father had appeared upon the scene. Never, never could Annie recall just what passed or happened next. She knew that she was hying back to'the tents with tears streaming down her face. And that evening she heard that Menagerie Joe was to go. He would stop out this week, that was all —then off he would go—no matter how useful or successful he had been with the beasts. Annie’s father was a passionate, hot-tempered man; her mother peadecl in vain, knowing what a loss the show, would suffer. Annie said nothing, but her heart suddenly seemed to awaka within her. She seemed to bear a voice saying quite clearly in her ear: “ Better exile and a hard life with the man you love, than a petty, easy existence such as lies before you if you let this one chance Blip. ” , But what could Annie do? As though her father guessed at some such struggle within her, he kept her almost under lock and key all the rest of that w r eek. She heard the shouts of wonder and applause that greeted Joe’s feats night by night. She knew exactly when his turns with tho beasts came on,* and though she shivered with feu 1 ?, she thrilled with pride and joy, picturing his mastery over the wild creatures of the forest, and his marvellous success in dealing with them. It was awful never to see Joe, not even to say good-bye. Saturday came, and on Saturday there was an afternoon as well as an evening performance. She did not know it. so itj had named the matter to her, but an old showman who had been dismissed on account of drink was now returned to take his old place when Joe left, and was to go into the cage with

him tins afternoon, to help him over the nprformance. Of course, he had been in the beasts already. They knew him again, and though not subservient and fawning towards him, as they were with Joe, tn cy behaved quietly, and, being kept well fed, were in a complaisant humour. The discharged man was glad enough to be taken on again by his former master, and was not at all disposed to take any hints from Joe as to his method of conducting himself in the cages. But Annie knew nothing about all this. Only she felt that she simply could not endure the confinement of the tent any more,- She did not want to visit the show. Her father would be there, and, although ’busy, would be certain 5 to spy -her out. But her mother/" who was sorry for the girl, and knew that Joe would be fully occupied all the afternoon —for he was no shirker of his duties, though he had maintained a {complete silence towards his employer since the fracas in> the wood saw no reason why she should not get a oreath of air if only she would keep away from the meadow where the show was pitched. So Annie slipped' away, and with one long backward- glance towards the place where herjover was performing his duties, she set off for t-h'e wood, where so many times they had met each other, and sat herself down beneath the oak tree, trying to reconstruct for-herself that wild, splendid love scene, and to feel in imagination once more the kisses on her lips. She heard from afar the sound of the strident music and the shouts of the admiring crowd, all so familiar, t-e her by this time. She scarcely knew when if was that she roused herself to .the understanding of some kind of tumult that was not normal. Suddenly she sprang to her feet trembling. Something untowards had happened. She was sure of it. The shouts were mingled with screams of terror. . She felt, (rather than actually saw, that neople were flying in all directions. She began to run towards the scene of confusion, to learn what terrible thing had, happened. She had run a little way when she stooped dead short, simply frozen with horror. A great tawny beast was bounding towards her. Annie recognised at a glance the largest of the lions in her father’s show. She threw up her arms, uttered one piercing cry—“ Joe! Joe! Oh, save me!—save me !” and pitched forward on. ,her face and lay motionless and senseless along the ground. The great beast who had sighted her and -was coming bounding towards her as towards a prey, came upon her lying along the ground. He sniffed at her curiously several times, and then, as though somewhat uncertain as to his next action, he lay down with both hfc front paws across the ’prostrate body, and waited; his fierce red eyes turned towards the sounds that were approaching, his mane bristling with an admixture of anger, distrust, and possibly some measure of fear, but reioicing in his liberty, and in the consciousness of his own superb strength. Six men were racing after the escaped beast. The foremost of these was Annie’s

father. The last was iVfenagerie Joe. And ' he was the, last because he had'to make > a preliminary rush to his own quarters for that rifle which ho kept always loaded. As • he sprinted after the others, overtaking them at every stride, he suddenly heard the awful cry of the distracted father.

“My child! My child! Oh, God, it can’t be true. The beast has killed my beautiful child! Oh, save her—if she be not already dead!” The lion was baring his fangs. His tail began to lash.* Joe was by the side‘of the desperate father, his levelled rifle lifted.

'* Sir,’’ he said, “ I can shoot the beast dead. I’m not afraid I’ll miss. But it’s an awful thing to do with his paws across the girl. I don’t think he’s touched her yet. But in the death agony ” “ Man, man, -what can you do to save

her?” “ There’s one thing I can try—to anger and irritate him, so that he will leave her and spring at me. Once free of her, I can fire; but there’s a greater chance to miss. What kind of- shots are your men? And what kind of guns have they got?” ‘‘Save my child! Save nr child!” wailed the distracted father. “If she is not. hurt already, 7 save her—save her!'' Joe saw that he must act on his own initiative. He fixed his gaze upon the lion and advanced, speaking stern words of command. The beast seemed to recoil. He lifted one huge paw from across Annie’s body, then the other, and sat up on his haunches, and then with .lashing tail crouched for a spring. What happened in the next few seconds none could ever say. The spring was made —right across the girl’s unconscious body. Two shots rang out, and the great beast came hurtling through the air, as though to fling himself in all his fury and strength, upon his assailant. Man and beast seemed to fall together in an awful struggling mass. The struggle lasted a few seconds. Then all was still, and Annie suddenly awaking from her swoon, rent the air with her piercing cry. “ Joe! —joe ! Oh, my love ! Father—father, Joe has saved my life, and now he is killed himself. Oh, why did not I die, too?” ‘‘l’m not dead,” spoke a voice from beneath the lion’s quivering carcase. “ Some of you fellows get this brute away. I think he’s broken’my arm, just with the weight of him.” A few minutes later a dishevelled and white-faced man staggered to his feet, and Annie, regardless of fathe” or spectators, simply flung herself upon his breast. “ Oh, Joe, Joe, Joe, you did it for me!” Her father’s hand was on her shoulder, his voice shook a little as he said: “ All right, my little girl; all right!

You’ve got your Joe, and he’s’ got you, and he’s won you, too, and I’m not likely to try and come between you again. So come along, my lad, and let the doctor look you over, and then we’ll get the lawyer to draw up the deed of partnership, and the parson to splice you up with little Nan. And if so be that you can’t

be happy apart, why, then, you’ll have to go on being Menagerie Joe to the end of the chapter.’’