until help arrived to liberate the unconscious trainer, who lay
huddled against the bars on the opposite side of the cage.

"Poke one of the tent poles in to him and let him bite it!"
roared Mr. Sparling. "Half a dozen of you get around behind the
cage and when we have his attention one of you pull Bob out.
Keep your poles in the opening when you open the door, so Bengal
doesn't jump out. Everybody stand back!"

The commands of the showman came out like so many explosions of a
pistol. But it had its effect. His men sprang to their work
like machines.

In the meantime Mr. Sparling himself had grabbed the tail of the
beast, taking a hold higher up than Phil's.

"Pull the boy off. He's hanging on like a bull dog. If you had
half his sense you'd have put a stop to this mix-up minutes ago."

Teddy by this time had gotten in under the ropes again, and,
grasping his companion about the waist, he held on until he had
untwisted the tiger's tail from his companion's arm and released
Phil, staggering back with his burden against the rope.

Phil's limp body, the moment Teddy let go of him, collapsed in a
heap.

The circus men were too busy at the moment to notice him. One of
the men had thrust a short tent pole between the bars. Bengal
was upon it like an avalanche.