Page:Harper's New Monthly Magazine - v109.djvu/264

244 stood calm and dignified, the only woman who dared venture out.

Then around the curve by the post-office came a galloping tawny brute, scattering the dust in clouds as he ran. The watchers on the church steps, terrified by the sight, burst inside the church, leaving Mrs. Noah alone to confront the situation. She grasped the handle of her parasol tighter, and waited with supreme confidence till the last possible moment. The lion had now settled into a stealthy trot, and seemed about to pass the building without molesting its occupants, when Mrs. Noah, who had been gazing intently at him, took a step forward.

"It is Joshua, as I live!" she exclaimed; "there's that selfsame scar on his cheek, I declare!"

At the sound of her voice the lion stopped immediately and stood, lashing his tail. Then his heavy muzzle was raised, his fangless jaws opened, and he emitted a mournful roar. Mrs. Figtry stood her ground.

"Joshua, Joshua," she called to him, as one calls to a stray poodle; "don't you know me, Joshua?" and she started down the steps.

From the windows and through a hazardous slit of half-opened door the astonished members of the congregation stared upon a marvel. They saw her boldly approach the beast and lay her hand calmly upon his head. They saw his bloodthirsty rage wilt into docility as Joshua recognized his former benefactor. One by one the church-goers crept out upon the steps to witness this unwonted scene, the men first, the women following, timid but curious, ready at a moment's notice to bolt back into their refuge.

"You needn't be a bit scared," Mrs. Noah was saying. "I'll tend to this lion," grabbing him by the ear and swinging him round. "He's all heat up, anyhow. Deacon Skinner, can't you let me take your overcoat to wrap him up with? This southwest wind isn't like what he's used to in the tropics of Sahara, and I'm afraid he'll catch cold, perspiring so."

She took the overcoat that was hesitatingly offered her, spread it carefully on Joshua's back, pinning the sleeves around his neck. Then she sat herself upon his hind quarters as he lay in the middle of the road, and proceeded to give further orders.

"Now, Deacon Skinner, I want you should bring your buggy round here. I've got to take this lion home. It wouldn't do for him to stay here, and if he walks I'm afraid he'll be run into by some team. He ain't much used to travellin' afoot."

Deacon Skinner was meekly obedient, and going round to the sheds, untied his horse and led him back. But at the first sight of the lion the horse became paralyzed with terror. Nothing could induce him to move forward. The dilemma seemed unsolvable. Mrs. Figtry looked up and down the road in despair. Then the rhythmic thud of machinery was heard as an automobile touring-car came rapidly towards them.

Without a word, but with lips compressed, Mrs. Figtry stepped directly into its path. There, holding her parasol in front of her, she opened and shut it rapidly, making frantic signals to the chauffeur. He came to a stop a few feet away from her. There was no one else in the car.

"See here," she cried to him; "can't you take me and this lion back to the circus in your steam-engine? It's nothing more nor less than cruelty to animals to let him stay here, and horses are scared to death of him." She paused for his reply.

The chauffeur, with a grin, pulled off his mask of goggles. It was Steggins. "Why, how-de-do, Mis' Figtry?" he cried. "I'm proud to see you! Step right in. I never calculated to see you or Joshua again, least of all together. Come, Joshua," he commanded.

At the sound of his master's voice the old lion leaped into the automobile. Here he was pushed into a back seat. Mrs. Figtry, after seeing that the overcoat was well wrapped about the animal's shoulders, got in beside him. In another instant the car had bounded off down the road. The awestruck congregation watched its heroine well round the turn and then filed in to church.