In the menagerie portion matters were different; here there was
a free and easy air, the animals realising that for the present
the eyes of the public were off them, and they could put in the afternoon
as they chose.

The big African apes had dropped the "business" of showing their teeth,
and pretending that they wanted to tear the spectators' faces off.
They were carefully and painstakingly trying to fix up a kind of
rustic seat in the corner of their cage with a short piece of board,
which they placed against the wall. This fell down every time
they sat on it, and the whole adjustment had to be gone through again.

The camel had stretched himself full length on the tan, and was enjoying
a luxurious snooze, oblivious of the fact that before long he would have to
get up and assume that far-off ship-of-the-desert aspect. The remainder
of the animals were, like actors, "resting" before their "turn" came on;
even the elephant had ceased to sway about, while a small monkey,
asleep on a sloping tent pole, had an attack of nightmare
and would have fallen off his perch but for his big tail.
It was a land of the Lotus-eater

"In which it seemed always afternoon."

These visions were dispelled by the entry of a person who said,
"D'ye want to see Dan?" and soon Dan Fitzgerald, the man who knows
all about the training of horses, came into the tent with Montgomery,
the ringmaster, and between them they proceeded to expound the methods
of training horseflesh.

"What sort of horse do we buy for circus work? Well, it depends what