Men by this time had come up to repair the broken cage, and with a nod of farewell, the trainer left Larry, as there were many things to attend to toward getting the circus into shape. Larry wandered about the big Garden, seeing odd little incidents that he made use of in his newspaper story. He found the manager in charge of the freaks, and introducing himself, Larry started to ask if there was anything new that might make a story. “Well, yes, here is a little item you might work in,” replied the manager, looking at Larry in what the reporter thought was a strange sort of way. “We’ve a romance on our hands.” “A romance?” “Yes, you see the living skeleton has gone and fallen in love with the fat woman.” “Really?” asked Larry, thinking the manager might be trying to “string” him. “Of course. Come out and have a talk with him. But that isn’t the worst. You see, the fat lady is smitten with the India rubber man, and the bearded lady has gone and fallen in love with the living skeleton, so you see, things are all mixed up. Come out into the freak room, and see for yourself.” Wondering whether to believe the story or not, Larry followed the manager. He found the freaks all sitting in one corner of the Garden, on a sort of raised platform. Sure enough the living skeleton was gazing with a sort of lorn expression at the fat lady, who, in turn, was making eyes at the India rubber gentleman, who was practicing stretching his neck until the skin of it almost touched his forehead. The bearded lady, who was combing her whiskers every now and then, glanced in the direction of the living skeleton, who was shivering, though the day was warm. “You can see for yourself,” spoke the manager, in a whisper. “Don’t make fun of ’em, if you write it up.” “I’ll be careful,” replied Larry, thinking he had found something that would fit in the circus story very well. Having about all the material he needed, and seeing that the hour was getting late, Larry decided to go back to the office. He found himself in quite a crowd of men and boys who were hanging around the entrance to the Garden, as he came out. He thought he felt a hand in the side pocket of his coat, as he worked his way through the throng, but, as he knew he had nothing of value in it, he decided, even if it was a pickpocket, he would not stop then to try to capture him. So he pressed on. He was just in time to catch a car for the office, and gave the incident no further thought. “Well, did you get a good story?” asked Mr. Emberg, as Larry entered the city room. “Pretty good; one of the lions got loose.” “Don’t let them work any press-agent yarns off on you,” cautioned the city editor, with a smile, for he was used to such stories from circuses. “This is true,” replied Larry. “I saw it myself. In fact, I fired a revolver at Nero to drive him back.” “Was it Nero who was loose?” asked Mr. Newton, overhearing what Larry said. “That’s what they called him. He seemed ugly enough to be Nero.”