A very weary and dust-covered couple trudged to the top of the last hill just before sundown and paused, with Lou’s hand instinctively clutching Jim’s arm.

“Is that it; the Hudson?” She pointed over the fringe of treetops below them to the broad, winding ribbon of sparkling gray-blue, touched here and there with the reflection of the fleecy pink clouds drifting far overhead.

Jim turned to look at her, wondering what reaction the view would have upon the emotions of this child who, until a brief week ago, had known only the “brick house with a high fence and a playground where never a blade of grass grew.”

Her big eyes followed the river’s course 56until it was lost in a creeping mist behind high hills, and she drew a deep breath.

“How far does it go?” she asked.

“To New York; to the sea,” he responded. “The ocean, you know.”

“My!” There was wonder and a certain regret in her tone. “What a waste of good wash-water!”

Jim emitted an inarticulate remark, and added hastily:

“Let us get along down into Highvale. I must try to find a place for you to sleep, and remember, Lou, you’re my sister if anyone starts to question you.”

“All right; I don’t mind, if you don’t.” She gave the floppy hat a yank that slued the ridiculous green bow to a more rakish angle, and then stopped suddenly in the road. “O-oh, look!”

A barn had been built close up to the side of the fence, and freshly pasted upon it was the vividly colored poster of a circus. The enthusiastic admiration which she had denied to her first view of the great river glowed now in Lou’s eyes, and she stood transfixed.

57“What is it, Jim? The pretty lady on the horse an’ the other one up on the swing thing without–without any skirt to her, and the man with the funny pants an’ the big hat that’s shootin’-”

“There must be a circus in Highvale–yes, the date says to-night,” Jim replied.

“‘Trimble & Wells Great Circus & Sideshow,’” she read slowly. “I heard about them circuses; some of the children seen them before they came to–to where I was, an’ once one come to town an’ sent free tickets to us, but the deaconesses said it was sinful an’ so we couldn’t go. It don’t look sinful to me; it looks just grand–grand!”

She could have stood for an hour drinking in all the wonders of the poster, but Jim hurried her on although he was filled with sympathy. Poor little kid! What a rotten, black sort of life she must have had, and how he wished that he might take her to this tawdry, cheap affair and watch her naÏve enjoyment.

But their combined capital would not have covered the price of the tickets, and there was 58supper to be thought of, and the hazards of the immediate future. For the present the circus must remain an unattained dream to Lou.

The steep little hill down to the village seemed very long, and twilight was almost upon them when they came to a big, open lot upon which a circular tent was in process of erection, with lesser oblong ones clustered at one side.

A fringe of small boys and village loungers lined the roadway watching the corps of men who were working like beavers within the lot, urged on by a bawling, cursing voice which seemed to proceed from a stout, choleric man who bounded about, alternately waving his arms and cupping his hands to improvise a megaphone.

Jim was tired, and his side throbbed dully, but a sudden inspiration came to him, and he drew Lou over to the other side of the road.

“Sit down here and wait for me,” he told her. “I won’t be long. That’s where the circus is going to be, and perhaps I can fix it for you to see it.”

59Turning, he shouldered his way through the knot of loungers, and entering the lot, approached the stout gentleman.

“Want an extra hand?” he asked. “Anything from a ballyhoo to a rough-rider?”

The stout man wheeled and surveyed him in momentarily speechless wrath at the interruption. Then his eyes narrowed appraisingly as he noted the tall, lean, well-knit figure before him, and he demanded:

“How the h–l did you know that the Wild West act was all knocked to pieces?”

“It isn’t now,” Jim smiled. “Lend me a horse and a pair of chaps, and I’ll show you in five minutes what’s going to be your star act to-night.”

“You’re no circus man, nor a Westerner, neither.” The boss still stared. “And you don’t look like a bum. What’s your game, anyway?”

“To pick up a little loose change and get a horse between my knees again.”

The thought of the forlorn little figure which he had left by the roadside kept Jim’s 60smile steady, and added a desperate artificial buoyancy to his tired tones:

“Never mind who I am or where I came from; I can ride, and that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

There was an instant’s pause, and then the boss bawled a stentorian order and grabbed him by the arm.

“Come on. I’ll give you a chance to show me what you can do, but if you’re takin’ up my time on a bluff I’ll break every bone in your - - body!”

He led Jim to an open space behind the tents where presently there appeared a living convulsion in the shape of a bucking, squealing bronco seemingly held down to earth by two sweating, shirtless men.

As Jim surveyed that wickedly lowered head with its small eyes rolling viciously, his heart misgave him for a moment. What if he should fail? It was long since he had practiced those rough-riding stunts that had made him in demand for those society circuses of the ante-bellum days, and longer yet since he had learned to break a bronco on the ranch, 61which had been Bill Hollis’s hobby for a season.

What if that devil of a pony should best him in the struggle, and he should be thrown ignominiously from the lot before the eyes of the girl who was waiting patiently for him?

The next instant he had vaulted lightly into the high, Western saddle, the two men had jumped back, and the fight was on. The bronco lashed out viciously with his heels, leaped sidewise, and then, after a running start, attempted to throw his rider over his head, but Jim clung to him like a burr; he flung himself down and rolled over, but the young man jumped clear and was back into the saddle as the enraged animal regained his feet.

The struggle was strenuous but brief, and Jim found himself rejoicing that none of the old tricks had failed him, and that the wicked little brute was realizing that he had at length been mastered.

When the bronco was thoroughly subjected, Jim rode quietly up to where the boss stood with the two other men.

62“Want me to pick up a handkerchief for you, or any other of the old stunts, now?” he asked. “Don’t want to tire this old plug too much for the show.”

The boss chuckled.

“Get down and talk business with me, young feller,” he said. “You won’t ride Jazz in the ring to-night; he’s the rottenest, most treacherous little wretch with the outfit, and I only put you on him to call your bluff. Want to join the show? We had to leave our rough-rider back in the last town with a broken leg.”

Jim shook his head.

“Only for to-night,” he replied. “My sister and I are beating it South.”

“Well, I’ll give you five dollars-”

“No, you won’t,” Jim smiled. “I’ll work for you to-night for just twenty-five cents.”

“Say, you ain’t bughouse, are you?” The boss stared again.

“The fourth part of a dollar, two bits!” Jim replied doggedly. Then his gaze wandered as though casually over to the cook tent, and he added: “However, if you could suggest anything to two hungry people, and 63something else for a little girl who has never seen a circus, Mr. Trimble-and-Wells, and who is waiting for me in the road-”

The boss roared.

“D–d if I don’t think you’re dippy, but you certainly can ride like h–l!” he exclaimed. “I’ll take you up on that; go get the kid and bring her in to supper, and I’ll see that she gets a reserved seat for the show. Holy smoke! A feller that can stick on Jazz, and wants to work for a quarter!”

Thus it was that when the clown came tumbling into the ring to the blaring of the band that night, a girl with the green bow all askew upon her hat and her violet-blue eyes a shade darker and snapping with excitement was perched on one of the front row planks which served as seats, clutching a bag of peanuts and waiting in an ecstasy for the wonders about to be unfolded.

The ride in the pedler’s van, the hours of currant-picking, and the hot, hilly, eight-mile trudge were forgotten, and she felt like pinching herself to see if she would wake up all of 64a sudden to find herself once more back in the attic at the Hess farm.

The beautiful lady with the fluffy skirts rode round the ring on tiptoe and jumped through the flaming hoops at the behest of the gentleman with the high silk hat and the long whip; the other lady “without any skirt to her” flew dizzily through the air from one trapeze to the other, and the performing elephant went through his time-worn tricks with the air of a resigned philosopher, and still Lou sat entranced.

Then the dingy curtains parted, and a man loped easily into the ring on a wiry, little Western horse. He was the same man she had seen in the poster that afternoon; the one with the funny pants and the big hat and the red handkerchief knotted around his throat, and he proceeded to do marvelous things.

It is highly probable that many a better exhibition of rough-riding had been given beneath the big top, but to Lou, as to the villagers surrounding her in densely packed rows, it was a supreme display of horsemanship, and they expressed themselves with 65vociferous applause when he uncoiled a rope from the peak of his saddle and dexterously brought down the bewildered steer which had been chivvied into the ring.

In the row directly in front of Lou sat a quartet who were obviously out of place among their bucolic neighbors, but as obviously bent on amusing themselves. The ladies of the party wore brilliant sweaters beneath their long silk motor coats, and veils floated from their small round hats, and the gentlemen wore long coats, too, and had goggles pushed up on their caps.

Bits of their chatter, and low-voiced, well-bred laughter drifted back to the girl’s ears between pauses in the louder comments of her immediate neighbors and the intermittent din of the band, and Lou was amazed.

Could it be that they were laughing at this glorious, wonderful thing that was called a “circus?” Were they ridiculing it, trying to pretend that they had seen anything more marvelous in all the world?

They didn’t laugh at the rough-rider, she noticed. The ladies applauded daintily, and 66once the stouter of the two gentlemen called out: “Good work!” as the rider executed a seemingly daring feat, and the other gentleman consulted his flimsy play bill.

Then all thought of the four was banished from Lou’s mind, for the rider had cantered from the ring and dropped a large white handkerchief upon the sawdust of the outer circle just before her. Wasn’t that bit of color in a corner of a handkerchief an American flag? Jim had told her that he was to do some work outside for the circus people that night, and the boss had kindly offered her a seat, but that handkerchief-

Suddenly the rider swept by with his horse at a dead run, and swooping down, seized the square of white in his teeth, and while the tent rang with applause, Lou sat very still. It was Jim! It was he, her “partner,” whom the people were all clapping their hands at, who was doing all these wonderful things! But his face had looked somewhat pale beneath that big hat, and his smile sort of fixed.

The bandage was gone from his head, and the plaster which had replaced it was hidden, 67but she could not have been mistaken. What if he were suffering, if his back and side were paining him again? She recalled the exhaustion with which he had slept at noontime, and the long, weary hike that followed it, and her heart contracted within her. It was for her that he was doing this, so that she might see the show!

One of the ladies in the seats before her leaned forward and exclaimed:

“Didn’t he look like Jimmie Abbott? If we didn’t know that he was on a fishing trip up in Canada-”

Lou did not catch the rest of the remark. Her eyes were glued upon the rider and her ears stilled to everything around her. With a final flourish he dashed for the dingy curtain at the exit and it parted to let him pass. It did not close quickly enough behind him, however; not quickly enough to conceal from the gaping audience his lurching fall from the saddle into the group of acrobats waiting to come on in their turn.

Then it was that a small, pink-checked cyclone whirled through the rows of closely 68packed humanity and half-way round the arena to the curtain, while above the clamor of the band arose a shrill cry; “Jim! Jim!”

“Did you see her?” The lady who had commented upon the rider’s appearance demanded of the gentleman beside her. “She called him Jim, too; isn’t that odd? Do you suppose, Jack, that she is with the circus; that little country girl?”

“Oh, it was only part of the show,” the stout gentleman replied in a bored tone. “Or else the chap was tight. He certainly rode as if he had some red-eye tucked under his belt; wonder where he got it around here?”