The following day Sube Cane made a pleasing discovery. He was strolling along the back street that bordered his father's garden when he was confronted by a vision of gorgeous beauty. He halted in amazement.

"Well, I'll be jiggled!" he gasped ecstatically. "I'd like to know when they put that up! It wasn't there this morning. There was nuthin' but a lot of patent med'cine ads."

And he gazed in rapture at the colorful announcement of the coming of Baylum & Barney's Greatest Show on Earth. At first a lady in fleshings doing a toe-dance on the back of a pinto percheron held his attention, but he was soon won from her by the Human Fly, who was depicted as in the act of walking on the ceiling. And it was not long before the Human Fly gave way to the Only Genuine Blood-Sweating Behemoth of Holy Writ Now in Captivity. Then Sube truly lost his heart.

The longer he gazed at the behemoth the more he admired it. It was, indeed, a case of love at first sight. Under his fascinated scrutiny the shifty eyes became kind; the broad ugly nose and cavernous mouth seemed to smile at him; the wrinkled hide looked as soft as a baby's skin. How he would have liked one for a pet!

In his mind as he stood there a definite idea assumed form; he would never be a lawyer when he grew up. Nothing short of a showman could satisfy him now. The thought of attending his own show every day was enticing. The informality of the circus life appealed to him. There would be no dining table to keep his elbows off from; no napkin to fold up. When he got hungry he would simply help himself to a few glasses of red lemonade and all the hot dogs he wanted, and no time would be wasted waiting for other people to be served. And when he led the parade, no common milk-white horses for him; he would train and drive a pair of good ol' blood-sweaters!

Then another idea struck him; a big one. Why not begin the business at once! He realized that for a time, at least, he would have to be hampered by living in a house and eating at a table; but there was nothing to prevent his starting his show in a small way. A third inspiration showed him how he could obtain a behemoth for immediate use. And by the time he had reached home his plans were well under way.

"Dad," he asked as he sauntered into the library a little later, "where is Holy Writ?"

"Where is what?" asked his astonished parent.

"Holy Writ."

"Why, if you mean the Bible," said Mr. Cane, "it is in on the parlor table." And he resumed the reading of his paper.

For a moment Sube was immovable. Then it dawned on him. The Holy Writ was just another name for the Bible. And those figures underneath the portrait of his favorite were a reference to the Book of Job. He would go back and see what they were.

Half an hour later as Mr. Cane stepped behind the davenport in the parlor to adjust a screen, he nearly fell over the boy.

"What in thunder are you doing there?" he demanded irritably.

"Sir?"

"I said, 'What are you doing there?'"

"Reading." Sube tried to cover up the object of his perusal by lying on top of it; but this move only excited further curiosity on the part of his father.

"What are you reading?"

"A book."

Evasion was always aggravating to Mr. Cane. "What book?" he cried as he struggled to keep down his rising temper.

"This one right here." Sube indicated it with a motion of his body.

"What is the name of it?" thundered the exasperated parent.

"Sir?"

"You heard what I said!"

"The name of this book?"

Mr. Cane did not deign to answer. He simply glowered, opening and closing his hands as if they itched to take hold of something.

Sube understood the look and the convulsive movement of the hands, and made haste to answer: "Why, the name of it's the—" he was compelled to turn the book over and examine the title—"the Bible," he mumbled.

"What's that?" asked Mr. Cane petulantly. "Speak so a person can understand you! Don't mumble."

Sube hung his head as he murmured, "I said, 'the Bible.'"

Mr. Cane softened instantly. He thought he had discovered an undreamed-of spark of reverence in his son. "That's a very good book for you to read," he said kindly. "I hope you'll read it every day."

If Mr. Cane had looked into the parlor two minutes later, he would have realized his mistake. For Sube carefully tore from the Holy Writ a single page which he folded up compactly and thrust deep into his hip-pocket. At that moment he heard his mother's voice calling him; and hurriedly thrusting aside the screen his father had so carefully adjusted, he leaped from the window and was gone.

As Sube's showmanship developed, his manners dwindled. Sometimes it seemed to his family that his reason was tottering. One evening at dinner he humiliated his parents and irritated beyond words a dyspeptic jurist who was his father's guest, by interjecting into the conversation observations regarding the peculiarities of the blood-sweathing behemoth. And this in spite of the fact that his mother had previously warned him that any attempt on his part to participate in the talk at the table would be considered as an unfriendly act. Finally his enthusiasm ran away with him to such an extent that he forced upon the diners over the sotto voce protests of his mother, an off-hand description of the creature of Job's fancy, so detailed and so unexpurgated that his instant dismissal from the table became imperative.

He left the room more outraged than chastened, muttering something about being able to "prove it" and fumbling sulkily in his hip pocket apparently for evidence. A few moments later he was standing before his beloved poster regarding his heart's desire with a sense of peculiar proprietorship. After a little he sat down on the grass; and while Sport, his old spotted dog, lay at his feet lazily digging at one ear with a rheumatic hind-foot, Sube drew from his pocket and read aloud in a halting monotone certain portions of the fortieth chapter of the Book of Job, often pausing between verses to verify the observations of the Patient Prophet by comparison with the portrait taken from life.

When the gathering dusk made further reading impossible, and began to blur the features of the behemoth into less pleasing form Sube stood up.

"Sport," he said, "you'll prob'ly make a bum job of it, but you're goin' to be a blood-sweatin' behemoth of Holy Writ."

The dog received this announcement with equanimity, little realizing the inconvenience it was to cause him.

The next day at Sunday School Sube declined to give the Golden Text, and recited in its stead a few verses from the Book of Job to which his teacher, Miss Lester, took choleric exception. He was immediately sent home; but when Miss Lester stopped in to explain matters to his mother he had not yet arrived. As he sauntered in half an hour later he met with a very warm reception and was placed on jail-limits for the remainder of the day, being forbidden to leave the premises. But this entailed no great hardship, for he spent the afternoon in the barn printing posters and making preparations for the circus which he was planning to launch on the morrow.

Monday was a red-letter day for the youth living in that part of the town known as the East Village. The lucky few who were associated with the management were engaged in building the "ampatheater" and fashioning the drop curtain from a quantity of ex-fertilizer sacks that were Gizzard Tobin's contribution to the enterprise; the others were kept busy knocking the show, and at the same time getting together the price of admission.

At about two o'clock in the afternoon a great hubbub was heard in the streets. It sounded at first as if a newspaper extra had arrived; but a careful listener would have been able to make out that the cry was, "Cir-cus!" instead of, "Ux-try!" Then came the additional announcement that the big show would start at two-thirty sharp in the main tent upstairs in Canes' barn.

The barkers darted from place to place with such amazing rapidity and shouted so lustily that it seemed as if there must be nearer forty of them than four. Indeed their cries appeared to come from all sides at once. Nor was the rapidity of their movements accelerated by their circus costumes, for they were all in full dress; and their upturned trousers would insist on coming down over their feet and tripping them up from time to time.

It is possible that this may account for the disreputable condition in which two or three fathers in the neighborhood found their evening clothes the next time they had occasion to wear them. Although, without exception, the boys in the affected families denied any knowledge of the matter.

When the time-piece on the shelf in Canes' kitchen reached two-thirty o'clock the "ampatheater" was crowded to capacity, and although several late comers were assured by the man at the door that there were plenty of "reserved seats for every man, woman and child, one and all, admitted to the big tent," they found on going inside that there was standing room only.

"Plen-ty of room! Plen-ty of room!" drawled the loud nasal voice at the door. "Do not loi-ter about the entrance, please! Either step in, or step aside! Gangway, please! Gang-way! Do not interfere with our pa-trons—"

These and many other remarks of a distinctly professional nature came from Ringmaster Cane, who seemed to be everywhere at once. Now he was at the entrance keeping it free from loiterers; now his nasal drawl could be heard issuing orders behind the scenes; now he was assisting a couple of ladies to find seats in the "ampatheater"; and at last, with three shrill blasts on a police whistle, he stood before the curtain and cracked his whip for order.