Howard R. Garis

“ He tried to take a few steps, but sank back with a groan.
“My ankle's broken!” he exclaimed.
“Let me look at it,” the foreman said, with rough sympathy in his tones. “I'm a sort of doctor. Have to be, with a lot of men getting hurt all the while.”
Entering the ruined shack he picked Larry up as easily as if the young reporter was a child, and carried him outside. Then he looked at the right foot, which was the one that pained the lad. The ankle was swollen, and the shoelaces were stretched tight across the instep. The foreman whipped out his knife, and cut the strings. ”

“ Larry, too, enjoyed himself. He was particularly interested in Nero, the lion, and pointed the ugly beast out to Jimmy. The brute kept in one corner of his cage, and growled.
“His toothache bothers him yet,” explained one of the men, who remembered Larry's performance. “I guess we'll have to pull it.”
“Pull a lion's tooth?” inquired Larry. “I never heard of such a thing.”
“Often done,” replied the trainer. “Much easier than yanking one from an elephant. ”

“ Do you want to see him?”
“Oh, nothing special,” replied the reporter. “I was just wondering where he was.” He did not dare to tell the real reason for his inquiry, which was prompted by a fear lest the kidnappers should have been at work. ”