Those scouts that we met were nice fellows. They were hiking back to Newburgh; that’s where they lived. They told us they had hiked up along the river to visit a place named Elm Center, about ten or fifteen miles west of Kingston. They said they had a bivouac camp just outside the city and that they had stayed there for a couple of days, so as to take in the circus.

We all went to the show together that night, and I sat on Marshal Foch’s cage wagon and rode around in the parade at the beginning of the show. All the fellows cheered me, even those new fellows. After the show I told them all that I wanted to go into the side show and say good-bye to my friends. We were all standing outside and Dorry Benton said, “I’ll go with you.”

Of course, as soon as he said that, they all wanted to go, but Harry said he guessed two were enough. So Dorry and I went in and made a call. The freaks were getting ready to go to bed, but anyway, they were glad to see us. I guess Madame Whopper slept in another tent; anyway, we didn’t see her. Maybe she had a whole tent to herself.

Mr. Lemuel Long said he was hungry and he wished he could eat a lot like scouts do. Gee, I have to admit that scouts eat a lot—especially dessert. You can bet I wouldn’t want to be a human skeleton. Judge Dot said he should worry, because he couldn’t grow any taller no matter what happened. He said he was fifty-two years old and after you get to be fifty-five you begin to shrink. He said everybody does, mostly. He said if he shrunk, he was going to make Mr. Costello give him more money. Gee whiz, I couldn’t blame him, especially on account of the high cost of living. He said Madame Whopper had gained fifty pounds and she made Mr. Costello give her a raise.

While we were talking with Judge Dot, Jib Jab came in and said, “Hello, Scouty, how did you like the show?”

I said, “You looked good and wild, that’s one thing, especially with that chain on.” He said that chain was his own idea.

I guess he had just been washing his face, anyway, there wasn’t any hair on it and the brown was all cleaned off. I could see now that he was a mighty nice looking fellow. His hair was kind of curly and his eyes were awful bright. He took off his fur covering and put on a kind of a bath robe and then sat down on a chair and stuck his feet up on Madame Whopper’s platform. Oh boy, you should have seen Dorry stare. First he looked at the fur covering. It had paws and claws on it just like an animal. Then he looked at Jib Jab. I guess he didn’t know what to make of him.

Jib Jab said, “Now for a smoke,” and he lighted a cigarette; “nothing like a quiet smoke after the day’s work is over. Back in the jungle I never had all this bother of dressing and undressing. Civilization is just killing me. Fact is I can’t be tamed. Anybody got a newspaper? I suppose I ought to be thankful I haven’t got my face all plastered up with fly paper. Where’s old Sky Scraper?” That’s what he called the giant.

“Gone to bed,” Judge Dot said.

“How about you, Shorty; got a match?” he asked Judge Dot.

Judge Dot just said very stiff like, “I’ll bid you good night, sir.”

“Happy dreams, Shorty,” Jib Jab called after him. Then he said, “That’s the trouble with all these freaks—uppish, especially the giant. Why he looks down on everybody. Ma’s about the best of the lot. Shorty thinks he’s the whole circus just because he has three rings on his hands. Same with Skinny. I’d rather be back in the jungle than living with this bunch. Half the time they don’t speak to me. You see I’m not a regular freak; they look on me as a kind of a butt-in.”

I said, “Gee, I’m sorry; I should think they’d like you.”

“They’re all jealous,” he said; “that’s the trouble. They’re all down on parade work, even Ma. They couldn’t stand for me making a hit with that chain. Last week, up in Albany, I started to growl just as Shorty started selling his photographs. The louder he piped away with that silly little squeaky voice of his, the more I roared. When it comes to roaring, I’ve got even the lions jealous. Fact is I’m not liked; they are all jealous, even the animals. And I feel it, too; any honest hard working what-is-it would. Especially if he’s human. The little two-headed boy we had was about the best of the lot, only he was double faced. He’s with Barnum’s now—fifty a week and overtime.”

“I don’t see why you want to be a what-is-it,” I told him; “especially if they don’t treat you right.”

He just went on smoking, awful funny, kind of. Jiminy, I couldn’t make him out at all.

He said, “Now you take Teddy Roosevelt, the elephant. He’s what you’d call a big attraction—very big. Do you suppose he’d refuse to pal with me just because I’m a poor, neglected what-is-it? Only this morning we had a bag of peanuts together; he and I and little Ruth. He’s just as plain and democratic as he can be. But you see my position isn’t easy. I’m human and yet I’m not. I don’t know where I fit in. The animals are kind of leary; you can’t blame them. And the freaks are as stuck up as poor old Marshal Foch was. Sometimes I wish I was back in the jungle.”

Jingoes, I didn’t know how to take him at all, and I could see Dorry was just staring at him as if he didn’t know whether he was jollying us or not.

“Anyway, we have to be sorry for you,” I said. He just kept puffing on his cigarette and he said, “Well, it’s good to sit back here when the freaks have turned in and have a quiet smoke. Pretty strenuous work jerking and pulling on that chain. It’s a hard life being a question mark.”

“You said something,” I told him; “cracky, I wouldn’t want to be a what-is-it.”

He just said, “No, when you grow up, make up your mind whether you’re going to be human or not. Don’t try to be two things. Don’t be a question mark. Why away down in my savage, primeval heart, I wouldn’t hurt a kitten. Yet here I am growling and roaring and wrenching at my cage bars and straining at that old chain, and the children and old ladies back up on the street when they see me, frightened out of their lives. I’m not loved by anyone. It’s mighty hard. Either one of you kids got a cigarette about you?”

I told him no, that scouts didn’t smoke cigarettes.

He said, “Well, drop in and see me down at Poughkeepsie or Newburgh if you happen in when we’re there. You’re always welcome.”

Gee, we just couldn’t make heads or tails of that fellow. Anyway, I liked him. And I had to admit that that was good advice he gave me about making up my mind whether to be human or not.