Nathan Tarbox was not a liberal man. Indeed he had the reputation of being very close-fisted and mean. Never had he been known to invite a friend to a place of amusement, never had he been willing to incur the expense of a dime for another. Yet here he had paid fifty cents for a ticket of admission to the circus, and presented it to the constable. We know, however, why he did this. He saw no other way of compassing his revenge upon the giant who had so grievously offended him, and revenge even outweighed money in his eyes.

Well, it had turned out a failure. In spite of the cowardice of Spriggins something might have been accomplished, and at all events the Norwegian might have been put in the attitude of a man defying the law, which would have made the eventual penalty greater. But there had been a ridiculous error in the warrant—an error for which he was compelled to admit that he himself was responsible. Thus he was balked of his vengeance, for the time being at least, and he was a dollar out of pocket. That Spriggins should deliberately disobey him and stay to see the show was aggravating. He would rather have thrown the money away.

"Goin' to stay and see the show!" repeated Tarbox, angrily. "You can't do it, Spriggins."

"Why can't I?"

"I didn't buy you the ticket for no such purpose."

"Can't help that, Mr. Tarbox. I should be a fool to leave the show, now I'm in, and my ticket paid for."

"Then, Mr. Spriggins, I shall expect you to repay me the fifty cents I spent for your ticket."

"You must excuse me, Mr. Tarbox; you paid me in. I didn't ask you to, but now I'm in I'm goin' to stay. I wouldn't have come to pay my own ticket, for I'm a poor man, and I can't afford it."

"Do you think I can afford to throw away a dollar on two tickets?" demanded the farmer, angrily.

"I should say you could if you wanted to. You're pretty well off, and if I was as rich as you I wouldn't mind goin' to anything that comes round."

"You don't know anything about my circumstances. Besides I guess they'll give me my money back, if I tell 'em how I was deceived into buyin' tickets."

"Ask them, if you want to. If they'll do it, I'll go out."

The two made their way to the portal, and Tarbox said to the ticket-taker: "I only came in on business; I didn't come to see the show. I want to know if I can get my money back."

"Of course not," said that official.

"But I came in on business connected with the law."

"Can't help it! You've seen part of the show already; I saw you lookin' at the curiosities."

"I wanted to arrest one of the curiosities," said Tarbox, indignantly. "I wouldn't give two cents to see 'em all."

"Then if you're an enemy of the show, you can't expect any passes. Just stand aside and let people pass."

Tarbox was utterly disgusted. He was baffled at every turn. If he only had been concerned he would not have minded so much, but that Spriggins should pass an evening of enjoyment at his expense rankled in his breast.

"We'll go out anyhow," said he to the constable.

"You can do as you please, Mr. Tarbox. I'm goin' in to get a seat and see the show."

"Your conduct is disgraceful, constable. You ain't fit for your position."

"I shall do as I please," said Spriggins, independently. "If you choose to let the show keep your money, and you get nothing for it, you may. I ain't such a fool. They'd be glad if all would do the same. All they want is the money."

This argument made an impression upon the farmer. As he couldn't get his money back, it did seem worth while to get some value for it. Besides, if the truth must be told, he had some curiosity to see the performance. Never in all his life had he been to a circus, and he always spoke of them as sinful; still he wanted to know what they were like.

"I don't know but you're right, constable," he said. "I don't hold to enconragin' such demoralizin' sights, but on the other hand I don't want to do 'em a favor by makin' 'em a present of a dollar for a free gift. I feel obliged to stay, situated as I am."

"That's the way to look at it," said the constable, gratified at the change in his companion's sentiments. "Come and let's get seats, so we can see what's goin' on."

He led the way and Tarbox followed him. They succeeded in obtaining favorable seats, notwithstanding it was within five minutes of the time for beginning the varied list of performances.

It must be admitted that Mr. Tarbox was interested, in spite of himself, in the successive features of the entertainment. I do not propose to describe them in detail. I advance to one in which one of our characters takes part.

"Gentlemen and ladies," said the manager, "I will now introduce to your notice Robert Rudd, the champion bareback rider of his age in the world."

A horse was led into the ring, and Robert, dressed in tights and a showy costume, bounded into the ring also.

The horse was started. He ran along by the side of it; then, laying his hand upon the animal, vaulted upon his back. After riding round the ring once or twice he rose to his feet and maintained his position with perfect ease while the horse, stimulated by the crack of the whip, galloped round the course.

"I declare, that beats all!" said Spriggins, who had never attended a circus before.

"That's the boy that was with the giant," said Tarbox.

"Well, he's a smart rider. I never saw the beat of him."

Mr. Spriggins was destined to be still more astonished. Hoops were brought and placed at regular intervals, covered with paper, and the boy rider jumped through each in succession, landing again on the horse's back.

"Did you ever see anything like it before, Mr. Tarbox?" asked the constable.

"No, and I never want to again," said Tarbox, with a growl, though he regarded the boy's performance with as eager curiosity as his companion.

"I think it's beautiful," said Spriggins; "I'm glad we come."

"I dare say you do, as long as I pay the bills," said Tarbox, in a sarcastic voice.

"Don't you like it yourself?"

"I don't care anything for it. I only stayed because I didn't want the show people to get the advantage of us."

Robert finished his act, and at his exit was greeted with a storm of applause.

He was followed by the younger boy, Charlie Davis, who went through a similar performance, and was received with similar favor. Young performers generally win the favor of an audience, and their efforts to please are received with considerable indulgence, though on the present occasion this was not needed.

On two reserved seats sat an old gentleman whose seamed face and bleached hair indicated advanced years. By his side sat a man of thirty-five, with a dark face and keen, watchful black eyes, whose expression was not likely to prepossess a stranger in his favor. The lines about his mouth indicated a hard, selfish man, whose thoughts were centred in himself.

This much by way of introduction. I need only add that the first impressions likely to be formed of this man were the correct ones. To the old man who sat at his side, and whom he regarded watchfully, he bore the relation of nephew.

It was perhaps surprising to see at the circus a man as old as Cornelius Richmond, for this was the name of the uncle, but he had been persuaded by his nephew, Hugo, with whom he was travelling, to attend, and, as the only alternative was an evening at a dull hotel, he yielded. But during the first part of the performance he looked on in a listless manner, not seeming interested. Hugo, who was younger, appeared more attentive. But when Robert Rudd bounded into the ring, the old man started, and leaning forward, said quickly, in a tone not free from agitation, "Do you see that boy, Hugo?"

Hugo, too, seemed struck by the boy's appearance, but he answered with studied indifference, "Yes, uncle, I see him. What of him?"

"Is he not the image of my dead son? Never have I seen such a resemblance to what Julian was at his age!"

"My dear uncle," said Hugo, shrugging his shoulders, "I assure you that it is all a fancy on your part. To me he looks very unlike my cousin."

"You don't remember him as I do, Hugo. If Julian's son were living, he would look like that boy."

"Possibly, uncle," said Hugo, carelessly; "but as he is dead that cannot interest us!"

While Robert was in the ring the old man followed him with a glance almost painful in its eagerness.