However, as he reached the edge of the wood, the rain grew less violent. Night was coming on but among the trees he could see bright lights shining.

Drawing nearer, Clown made out some kind of a big camp; carriages and closed wagons and tents stood out against the background of the forest. At last he saw people and animals coming and going in all directions.

When he was quite close to this busy scene, Clown stopped, breathless and anxious, sniffing the air, listening keenly to the slightest sound.

He was not quite satisfied, and in his doubt he thought of going farther on the chance of finding other shelter. But he was more tired than he was afraid. Plucking up his courage, poor Clown crept slowly toward the larger of the two lighted vans that stood on the edge of the woods.

Just at this moment the curtain that closed the rear of one of these vans opened and a young girl came out and stood on the doorstep. She wore a gleaming costume of spangles, with a very short, fluffy skirt, covered with shiny stones, and she had little satin slippers on her feet, and the daintiest of pink stockings. A plaid shawl hung from her shoulders.

Clown was dumbfounded. Never had he seen his dear mistress in such a dress. While he was gazing in astonishment at her, the girl stretched out her hand to see if it was still raining. As she looked down she caught sight of our poor little doggie, who, squatting in front of her, wet through and muddy, raised imploring eyes, waiting till she should take pity on him.

"What's this? A lost dog?" and, bending toward him, she coaxed him nearer, saying:

"Poor doggie, poor little thing."

Clown went forward at once, trembling, anxious to please but still half afraid. He let this strange girl pet him, and made himself so agreeable, so eager and so interesting, that ten minutes later she had him all cleaned, combed and brushed.

Having won the favor of this kind-hearted girl, Clown became once more his old handsome self.

On a soft pile of blankets he passed an excellent night. Now and again strange noises troubled his ears, but completely worn out, and drowsy from so much fresh air, he fell asleep again and dreamed golden dreams.

The next morning the sky was clear again and the air was fresh and balmy.

Clown was awakened at dawn by the sound of people rushing about, packing up, just as though they were moving house. Without leaving his bed, his eyes still half-closed, he listened closely, and finally understood with what kind of people he had to deal. Then were explained the low growls which had so puzzled and frightened him during the night. The carriages, the cages, were the dwelling places of strange and terrifying animals, such as he remembered having seen at the fair of Neuilly, whither his dear mistress, Bertha, had taken him one evening when he was still a baby.

He had, then, fallen in with an immense traveling circus which, constantly on the move, gave performances in the principal cities of the world. Just now it was headed, by gentle stages, for the center of France. Clown was quite comforted and happy at the thought of one day or another reaching Paris. Then—then—then he would manage somehow to see her again, her for whom he yearned, her whom he loved with all his faithful little heart.

Traveling this way was much nicer than running along the highroad. He was a sturdy fellow, but, all the same, that one day of walking under such conditions had made him somewhat thin. In short, he had had enough of it, especially when he remembered that he hadn't the least idea how to get to Paris.

Slipping cautiously under the tents which sheltered the cages, Clown took a good look around the place.

The stables, huge affairs, contained no less than one hundred and fifty horses of all kinds and colors. He saw, too, three monstrous elephants, dromedaries, giraffes, zebras, donkeys, and even pigs.

Then came the turn of the menagerie—a fine collection of lions, tigers, panthers, jaguars, foxes, hyenas, boars. What didn't he see? Boxes full of snakes, crocodiles, monkeys in cages—a chimpanzee who was walking about all alone gave him a terrible fright.

Parrots of every hue swayed on swinging perches, uttering, for no reason that Clown could see, harsh discordant cries.

Thus he passed slowly through the whole menagerie, seeing all the animals. He even grew bold enough to lap freely at a large lake of milk, put there, he thought, for the snakes and monkeys, who are very fond of it. After this light breakfast he felt stronger and more light-hearted. He spent some time visiting and making much of his new mistress, and then went on to finish his visit with the animals so happily begun.

Passing close to the elephants, he noticed their small intelligent eyes, contrasting so queerly with their huge size. While he was wondering about them, Clown, who was by nature very curious, drew nearer, wanting to sniff more closely at those long noses which swayed so slowly and calmly from side to side. He succeeded in getting close enough to touch them, but at the slightest movement of the trunk he leaped back, his tail between his legs, although he just had to return.

Suddenly, without being in the least hurt, he felt himself lifted like a feather, and cleverly drawn into the elephant-house. Now it was the elephants' turn to sniff at him. One blew upon his nose until he could scarcely breathe, while another gently pinched his hind-quarters, and they all laughed at the figure he cut. I can tell you, Clown did not enjoy all this one bit. He did not even dare to show his teeth, he was so afraid of being torn to pieces if he made the slightest movement. Those five minutes in the air seemed to him very long and terrible.

At last he was gently put upon his feet again. He made one bound for liberty, a bound which brought him close to the giraffes. Here again he felt a keen pang of fear, for one of them, suddenly stretching his long neck over the top of the box, touched him quite unexpectedly with his long black tongue.

After this Clown was much more watchful and did not come too close to the animals in the boxes. Even the sound of a fly buzzing put him on his guard, and this was a good thing for him, for he was in the midst of a horde not always pleasant and sometimes quite dangerous, where all sorts of accidents might have happened to him. Fortunately he had escaped harm, and these lessons made him very careful afterwards.

A bell rang. Immediately commotion arose; people moved about in all directions; the feeling of unrest showed more and more in the cages; the inmates turned and twisted. Clown wondered what could be the matter. The wild beasts roared, the horses whinnied; all the animals clamored at once.

There was a medley of sounds that was simply deafening. It was feeding time.

Barrows full of fresh meat, loaves of bread and bundles of forage, were passed around freely. Each animal was served in turn according to his taste. After the first bite or two calm gradually returned, in the cages anyhow.

Clown was served apart and lunched with excellent appetite. His new mistress fairly stuffed him with dainties, feeding him out of her own hand. Her kindness made Clown love her more and more.

When the animals were all fed and the men had finished their own meals, the whole circus got ready to move. By noon everything was ready, and at a given signal, the entire troupe set off.

As the country was flat, and they were to march until evening before reaching their next stopping place, orders were given to leave the shutters of the cages open and to lead as many of the animals as possible so that they might breathe in the fresh air and stretch their legs a bit. You can guess that the passing of such animals on the road frightened more than one good peasant as they went along, although everyone along the road was warned in time by the tamer and his helpers, who rode at the head of the procession so as to avoid accidents.

It was in an elegant carriage, with good springs, drawn by two fine young horses, that Clown made the journey, seated beside his new mistress. The longing to go quickly, made him hang his tongue out of his mouth so that his white teeth showed under his black moustache, and his eyes, turning from his mistress to the splendid horses and back again, spoke his impatience but at the same time his delight at the progress they were making.

They went on and on, over miles of road bordered by poplars, on into the golden dust, into the purple sunset.

A few miles more, and there lay Dijon.

A week before, the town had been prepared, by bright-colored posters, for the coming of the great, the marvelous circus. The walls and fences were simply covered with pictures of the wonderful performance.

Performing horses, looking huge as elephants, clowns at their most amusing tricks, gymnasts doing their most thrilling feats, all were pictured.

The tamer was there too, life-size, his head in the mouth of Sultan, the big black Persian lion, while Mademoiselle Reine, his charming daughter, Clown's new mistress, beneath a cloudless sky drove four white does, scattering flowers as she went.

At last the travelers came to the first country houses, the vineyards and finally the spires, the tower of St. John the Fearless and the other buildings of the capital of Burgundy standing out against the evening gloom.

Before they entered the town, a halt was called. Order was restored, the cages were shut, a moment's rest was taken; then the troupe set out again, to encamp at last on a large piece of open ground near the gates of the city.

While the tents were being set up and the cages placed—in short, the whole circus installed—a huge procession bearing torches was organized, which rode through Dijon, led by a band of music.

Knights in shining armor, mounted on magnificent horses, handed out bills telling of a big performance for the next evening and giving the program.

The whole town was abroad to see and admire this strange sight. Men, women, children, all came out to meet them. It was a grand spectacle. Everybody wanted a program. Just imagine a procession of elephants, decked with gold and silver, a hundred and fifty horses, some ridden and some driven but all with magnificent harnesses, dromedaries, parade chariots shimmering with gold and gleaming with precious stones, and all these lighted up by flaring torches.

Clown had been dressed up for the occasion with yellow ribbons, a color which suited his black coat to perfection. Seated beside his new mistress he was radiant upon a canopied chair of gold borne by four zebras.

After going through the principal streets the troupe at last came back to camp to rest for the night, still followed by a vast crowd who did not think of sleep until long after the circus fires were all out.

The night was calm, but at daybreak, as on the preceding day, the noise in the camp started again, perhaps even a little louder this morning on account of the rehearsal which was to take place in preparation for the evening's performance.

Clown, always very curious, was present at all the rehearsals and enjoyed them thoroughly—so much, indeed, that he suddenly joined in and showed how well he could skip. Then he wanted to jump over and through everything. At last he got so excited that Reine made him take a nice hot sugar-drink with a little orange flower in it to calm him.

After this, Clown was considered one of the troupe.

Always on the watch, our doggie learned at breakfast that three days hence they were to go to Fontainebleau, where they were to give two performances, and after that they were to set off for Paris, so as to arrive in time for the opening of the big festival at Neuilly.

This made him so happy that for the moment he quite forgot to eat. Then, hope in his soul and joy in his heart, he made up his mind to do his very best at the next performance. He wanted to make all the people admire him, to do something that would repay Reine and her father for their kindness. Perhaps, too, he hoped that by acting in this way he might get talked about and get his name into the papers. Man is vain and even a dog has his pride. His fame might perhaps reach Bertha, his dear, tender, much-regretted mistress. All this made him very serious when at last the time for the performance arrived.

Beneath an immense tent, brilliantly lighted, decorated with garlands of foliage and flowers, the orchestra struck up a joyous march.

Immediately the doors were flung open, and to the sound of the music a great crowd poured into the huge tent and took seats.

For about an hour and a half the menagerie held the floor. Then the animals were put back into their cages. The wild beasts were obedient and rebellious in turn; whips sounded continuously. The noise of squibs, firecrackers, and growls almost drowned the orchestra.

Three times did the tamer put his head into Sultan's great mouth. The excitement of the audience was tremendous. They really thought he was done for.

"Enough, enough," was heard on all sides, and amid a thunder of applause, the first part of the performance came to an end.

Then came an interval of ten minutes.

Soon the second part was announced by a cheerful burst of music and the mad entrance of the clowns. Our Clown only waited for this moment to show off his talents, those already known and those nobody had ever seen before. He entered barking, in a series of wild leaps exactly like those of his companions. It was then that an artist in the troupe, astonished and enthusiastic, took off his clown's collar, and then and there put it round the neck of the poodle, naming him the "Dog-Clown."

So, for the second time, although until then they had not known what to call him, he received the name of Clown—"Dog-Clown."

During the first number, Clown set to work to copy all the fun-making tricks of the other clowns, and succeeded wonderfully well. Jumping through hoops and over barrels, he gave himself up to the pleasure of the thing; pleasing everyone so well that they clapped and clapped until he came back several times.

When the second number was called, there appeared on the scene a very handsome horse led by a groom dressed in the latest fashion. No sooner had they entered than they were followed by Clown, who, as he had seen done at the rehearsal, leaped with one bound into the saddle. They had great difficulty in coaxing him down. He could not see that this was not the place for him. Reine, beautifully dressed in a blue spangled gown, was placed with her father, in the saddle and set off at a gallop, to the sound of music and the gay cracking of the whip.

A clown joined the groom and Dog-Clown, who in spite of everything had remained on the scene, began to limp along behind them, to the great amusement of the spectators.

He was the success of the evening. He even, it is said, caused some jealousy among the artists of the troupe. Thus from the very beginning Clown felt the thrill of stage life and became a privileged actor.

Petted and adored by the public, he became so important that he hardly ever appeared on the scene until the end of the first and second numbers, a place reserved always for the stars of the troupe.

As was fitting, Dog-Clown had the place of honor on the circus posters. Sometimes he was a groom, sometimes a clown, but he did not stop there. He succeeded in showing that he was a mimic, and in a little play written for him by the manager, he made a huge success. Reine, who introduced Clown, shared the applause with her favorite.

Between whiles—and this was what astonished the company most—the dog invented unexpected and novel entrances. He gradually became a part of the circus life, and always watching what was going on around him, he was cute enough to make a place for himself in every number, and the tricks he played were so funny that everyone howled with laughter.

When the circus left Dijon, the people of that town were heart-broken. The mayor himself even begged that the manager give a few more performances. In vain. The manager was sorry, but time pressed; he had made arrangements for a certain date at Fountainebleau.

When Dog-Clown appeared for the first time in public in this town, even before he began he received such a welcome that he was moved to tears. The people had heard all about him and were wild to see him. In a moment the stage was covered with a mass of good things, thrown to him from all parts of the house, from the nearest seats to the farthest. Some threw sugar, some cakes; the clown even picked up cigars and oranges.

Dog-Clown, by way of thanks, gave such a performance as even he had never given before. His success was almost unbelievable. At last so great did his fame become that the Paris papers took it up, giving long accounts of this wonderful dog.

Clown was glad to be on the road again, for each move brought him that much closer to Paris. Besides, now that he was an important member of the company he always rode in state beside Reine, with velvet cushions to nap on if he chose.

It was late in the afternoon when they reached Fountainebleau, so no performance was given till next day, and the animals had a needed rest. Clown spent his time in thinking up new tricks with which to surprise the people who came to see him.

I must tell you that, as soon as Clown had shown what an artist he was, and how wonderfully he could adorn a collarette, the management had attached to his person a dressmaker who made for him all sorts of quaint costumes.

Soon he had a rich and thoroughly equipped wardrobe, from a frock-coat to a bull's skin and horns, a costume which he wore to act the bull in a mock bullfight in which young dwarfs figured as matadors and teased him.