FEED A HIPPOPOTAMUS AND HE’LL DO THE RESTFEED A HIPPOPOTAMUS AND HE’LL DO THE REST.
FEED A HIPPOPOTAMUS AND HE’LL DO THE REST.
FEED A HIPPOPOTAMUS AND HE’LL DO THE REST.
BON, THE BABY HIPPO, FOR WHOM A MAN GAVE HIS LIFEBON, THE BABY HIPPO, FOR WHOM A MAN GAVE HIS LIFE.
BON, THE BABY HIPPO, FOR WHOM A MAN GAVE HIS LIFE.
BON, THE BABY HIPPO, FOR WHOM A MAN GAVE HIS LIFE.
Hurrying men “spotted” the cage where a red glow had shown for an instant, then faded—the hippopotamus den, evidently set afire by a spark from the engine. The train stopped. Workmen and performers rushed forward.
The den was dripping with water, evidently carried from the circus water-cart just ahead. A bucket lay beside the cage. But Mike the “hippo nurse” was not to be found.
Then came a shout. They had discovered him by the right of way, his neck broken; in the fight for his grotesque comrade’s life, he evidently had slipped on the top of the den and fallen from the train. Death had been instantaneous.
But that last bucket of water had extinguished the fire.