(See front cover)
Padding about uncertainly in the tumbled sawdust of the big cage, the last three or four lions responded to a cue from outside the bars, wheeled and sped toward the runway leading to their own cages. The crowd that packed Manhattan's cavernous Hippodrome one night last week was up in its seats, streaming toward the exits past the array of jabbering freaks in the lobby. And ducking into the wings with the last salvo of applause still drumming in his ears a small man, in a shirt and breeches that...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
