of the turmoil. All at once, like the bursting of a dam, the whole mass
pours down into the ring. They sweep across the arena and over the
showman's barriers. Miguel gets a frightful trampling. Who cares for
gates or doors? They tear the beasts' houses bar from bar, and, laying
hold of the gaunt buffalo, drag him forth by feet, ears, and tail; and
in the midst of the _mêlée_, still head and shoulders above all, wilder,
with the cup of the wicked, than any beast, is the man of God from the
Florida parishes!

In his arms he bore--and all the people shouted at once when they saw
it--the tiger. He had lifted it high up with its back to his breast, his
arms clasped under its shoulders; the wretched brute had curled up
caterpillar-wise, with its long tail against its belly, and through its
filed teeth grinned a fixed and impotent wrath. And Parson Jones was
shouting:

"The tiger and the buffler _shell_ lay down together! You dah to say
they shayn't and I'll comb you with this varmint from head to foot! The
tiger and the buffler _shell_ lay down together. They _shell!_ Now, you,
Joe! Behold! I am here to see it done. The lion and the buffler _shell_
lay down together!"

Mouthing these words again and again, the parson forced his way through
the surge in the wake of the buffalo. This creature the Latins had
secured by a lariat over his head, and were dragging across the old
rampart and into a street of the city.

The northern races were trying to prevent, and there was pommelling and
knocking down, cursing and knife-drawing, until Jules St.-Ange was quite
carried away with the fun, laughed, clapped his hands, and swore with