Blow, who, with his boy, had
come to witness the show.

Then the fellow sang a funny song. It was funny. His voice was cracked,
his delivery dolorous. He began to shuffle at the end of it.

"Faster, faster, sir!" cried the ringmaster, snapping his whip across
the bare limb exposed. "Faster, I tell you!"

"Ouch!" yelled the aspirant.

"Come, sir, faster. I say faster, faster, faster! Purely ring practice,
my friend. We do this to all the clowns, you know."

With the pitiless accuracy of a bullwhacker the ringmaster pursued his
victim. The whip-lash landed squarely every time, biting like a hornet.
The aspirant was now on the run.

"Stop! Don't! Help!" he roared. "I don't want to be a clown!" and with a
bellow he ran out of the tent, followed by the hooting candy peddlers.

"Well, who are you?" demanded the ringmaster of two colored boys who
stepped forward.

"Double trapeze act, sir," said one of them.

"Oh, here you are. Let's see what you can do."

The ringmaster set free the temporary trapeze rigging.

These aspirants did quite well, singly. When they doubled, however,
there was trouble.

The one swinging from the hands of the other lost his grip. He caught
out wildly, grabbed at the shirt sleeve of his partner to save himself.
This tightened the garment at the neck. Then it gave way, buttons and
all. Both tumbled to the ground. They began upbraiding one another, came
to blows, and the ringmaster sent them about their business, saying the
show could not encourage prize fighters.

The programme continued. There was an ambitious lad who was quite a
wonder at turning rapid cartwheels. Another did some creditable pole
balancing. One old man wanted to serve as a magician. All had a chance,
but their merit was not distinguished enough to warrant their
engagement.

Most of the crowd filed out when the last of the amateurs had done his
"stunt." Benares then stepped up to the ringmaster and beckoned to Andy.

At his direction Andy threw off his coat and hat, and old Benares led
the horse Andy had noticed into the main tent. It was a steady-paced,
slow-going steed. The ringmaster got it started around the ring.

"Do your best now, Wildwood," whispered Marco, who with the clown and
the manager had followed into the main tent.

Andy was on his mettle. He made a run, took a leap and landed on the
platform on the horse's back just as he had done a hundred times back
at Fairview.

"Very good," nodded the ring