the sandy chin whiskers and
an inartistic yellow smooch down the front of his coat showed that the
eggs had followed him.

"Rather lively pair of yours; eh, mister?" commented a red-faced man who
dropped off the pole-wagon.

"Yes, ruther lively," assented Uncle Enoch, "'Specially when ye don't
want 'em to be. The off one's stiddy enough. It's this cantankerous
skewbald that started the tantrum. Whoa now, blame ye!" Calico's nose
was in the air again and he was snorting excitedly.

"Lemme hold him 'till old Ajax goes by," said the circus man.

"Thank ye. I'll swap him off fust chance I git, ef I don't fetch back
nuthin' but a boneyard skate," declared Uncle Enoch.

As Ajax lumbered by, the circus man eyed with interest the dancing
Calico. He noted with approval the coat of fantastic design, the springy
knees and the fine tail that rippled its white length almost to Calico's
heels.

"I'll do better'n that by you, mister," said he. "I've got a
fourteen-hundred pound Vermont Morgan, sound as a dollar, only eight
years old and ain't afraid o' nothin'. I'll swap him even for your
skewbald."

"Like to see him," said Uncle Enoch. "If he's half what ye say it's a
trade."

"Here he comes on the band-wagon team;" then, to the driver: "Hey, Bill,
pull up!"

In less than half an hour from the time Calico had bolted at sight of
the circus cavalcade he was part and parcel of it, and helping to pull
one of those mysterious sheeted wagons along in the wake of the
terrifying Ajax.

"The old party don't give you a very good send off," said the boss
hostler reflectively to Calico, "but I reckon you'll get used to Ajax
and the music-chariot before the season's over. Leastways, you're bound
to be an ornament to the grand entry."

Calico's life with the Grand Occidental began abruptly and vigorously.
The driver of the band-wagon knew his business. Even when half asleep
he could see loose traces. After Calico had heard the long lash whistle
about his ears a few times he concluded that it was best to do his share
of the pulling.

And what pulling it was! There were six horses of them, Calico being one
of the swings, but on an uphill grade that old chariot was the most
reluctant thing he had ever known. Uncle Enoch's stone-boat, which
Calico had once held to be merely a heart-breaking instrument of
torture, seemed light in retrospect. Often did he look reproachfully at
the monstrous combination of gilded wood and iron. Why need