bad when we feel this way."

During this speech Toby had still clung to the little brown paw, which
the monkey now withdrew, and continued to gaze into the boy's face.

"The fellers all say I don't amount to anything," sobbed Toby, "an'
Uncle Dan'l says I don't, an' I s'pose they know; but I tell you I feel
just as bad, now that I'm goin' away from them all, as if I was as good
as any of them."

At this moment Toby saw Mr. Lord enter the tent, and he knew that the
summons to start was about to be given.

"Good-bye," he said to the monkey, as he vainly tried to take him by the
hand again; "remember what I've told you, an' don't forget that Toby
Tyler is feelin' worse to-night than if he was twice as big an' twice as
good."

Mr. Lord had come to summon him away, and he now told Toby that he would
show him with which man he was to ride that night.

Toby looked another good-bye at the venerable monkey, who was watching
him closely, and then followed his employer out of the tent, among the
ropes and poles and general confusion attendant upon the removal of a
circus from one place to another.

CHAPTER III.

THE NIGHT RIDE.

The wagon on which Mr. Lord was to send his new-found employe was, by
the most singular chance, the one containing the monkeys, and Toby
accepted this as a good omen. He would be near his venerable friend all
night, and there was some consolation in that. The driver instructed the
boy to watch his movements, and when he saw him leading his horses
around, "to look lively, and be on hand, for he never waited for any
one."

Toby not only promised to do as ordered, but he followed the driver
around so closely that, had he desired, he could not have rid himself of
his little companion.

The scene which presented itself to Toby's view was strange and weird in
the extreme. Shortly after he had attached himself to the man with whom
he was to ride, the performance was over, and the work of putting the
show and its belongings into such a shape as could be conveyed from one
town to another was soon in active operation. Toby forgot his grief,
forgot that he was running away from the only home he had ever known--in
fact, forgot everything concerning himself--so interested was he in that
which was going on about him.

As soon as the audience had got out of the tent--and almost before--the
work of taking down the canvas was begun.

Torches were stuck in the earth at regular intervals, the lights