The Penitent Lion-Tamer

I am an animal painter, and in order to draw some newly arrived creatures, I joined a traveling company for the summer. There was one man among the employees of the Grand Unrivalled Cosmopolitan Menagerie who was always silent, shirked no toil, and seemed to set himself apart in sheer loneliness of spirit. He performed the most dangerous jobs without fear. When I asked the proprietor, Mr. Kingsley, about him, he told me the man’s history in confidence. Years ago, in a county town, 'Quiet Bill' had committed a murder in a moment of drunken, jealous rage. Though he escaped hanging through a clever lawyer, he was treated as an outlaw by his community and could find no work. Kingsley had hired him out of pity, keeping his past a secret. Bill seemed to view his dangerous work as a self-imposed penance for the life he had taken.

During a scorching August day in the suburbs of a growing city, our Bengal tigress grew increasingly agitated, lashing at the wires of her cage until the structure was visibly failing. Bill realized the danger to the crowd—which included many children—and rushed to warn the audience. When the beast broke free, Bill threw himself onto the tigress, clamping his arms around her neck and his legs around her loins to hold her back. He was crushed and mauled as they rolled in the ring. Kingsley managed to shoot and kill the tigress, but Bill was left dying beneath the weight. As he lay failing, he asked Kingsley, 'I think I’ve made it even, sir... I took a life; and I reckon I saved one, didn't I?' Kingsley assured him that he had, and Bill died with a sense of peace, believing he had balanced his karmic debt.