Suddenly the man in pink tights gave a loud cry just as he reached the highest point in a backward swing. Then, to Larry’s horror, and seemingly no less to the astonishment of the ringmaster and the helpers, the man was seen shooting downward, as if the ropes of the trapeze had broken. Larry was sure the man would be killed. But, just when it seemed that the man’s head would strike the ground, and he be terribly injured, the ropes suddenly became taut, and the performer’s downward course was checked, though he continued to swing back and forth in large arcs. All at once he straightened up, and lightly leaped from the cross-bar. “What do you think of that for a hair-raiser?” he asked. “Won’t that make ’em sit up and take notice some?” “It sure will,” replied the ringmaster. “I thought you were a goner. How did you manage that?” “I had the ropes on both sides shortened by a series of slip-knots,” the man in pink tights explained. “Then, when I was swinging good and hard, I yanked the cord that held the first two knots in place. The weight of my body pulled the others out, and the rope began to lengthen, and you saw me come down. I had it calculated so that I would cease falling a little ways from the ground.” “It’s a good trick,” commented the ringmaster. Larry thought so, too, and wondered how men cared to risk their lives in such dangerous performances. If the rope should break when the man’s descent was so suddenly checked, he would surely be killed. Larry saw about all there was going on among the performers, and decided next to visit the animal quarters. There he found a very lively place indeed. Some of the cages of wild beasts had just arrived from the train on which the circus came to New York, having been out on the road. The big wagons, containing lions, tigers, leopards, hyenas, giraffes, hippopotami, snakes, monkeys, bears, and other denizens of the forest, plain, or desert were rolled into place, either by horses pulling them, or by the elephants pushing them. Larry was quite surprised to see how these huge and seemingly unwieldy and clumsy creatures were made to perform hard work. They were useful as well as being ornamental, from a showman’s standpoint. Putting their big heads against a wagon or truck that would take the strength of eight horses, one elephant would shove it into place with ease, two men at the tongue directing its course. Larry found the head animal man, who gave the young reporter some facts to use in his story for the paper, and related a few incidents of the recent trip. While the cage of lions was being put into place there came from it a terrifying roar. It seemed to shake the very ground. “Old Nero isn’t feeling in the best of spirits,” said the animal trainer. “He’s got a bad tooth that pains him, and he’s as ugly as they come. I hope nothing happens. If he got out——” The showman shrugged his shoulders in a way that told more than words.