THAT night not only the Brownies, but the circus children as well, were so excited they could not eat much dinner.

“Just think!” Eileen declared to Rosemary. “We’re to be in a real circus performance—not just a make-believe show! What a story we’ll have to tell when we return to Rosedale!”

While the Brownies were excited at the thought of being in the circus, Eva and the circus children could talk only of the Brownie Scout troop which was to be organized. Miss Gordon and Miss Whitlock had spent an hour together, discussing the investiture ceremony.

Eva, happier than she had been since Connie and Veve had joined the circus, flew everywhere, issuing instructions. She was not satisfied until she knew every detail had been arranged for the initiation. “Will you do your somersault tonight?” Veve asked her as the time approached for the evening performance to start.

“Of course,” replied Eva. “Who’s afraid? Not I. I’ll do that turn in the air without thinking twice. Just don’t forget to blow the whistle for my act.”

“We won’t forget,” promised Connie.

Just before the circus started, she and Veve were taken into one of the dressing tents to be fixed up for their “special” number.

One of the clowns who was an expert at make-up, coated the children’s faces with a cold-cream-like covering of zinc oxide and olive oil. This was not very pleasant.

Then their faces were heavily dusted with white powder. Next the clown painted on heavy red lines and lips with a stick of grease paint. Connie sat very still while the job was being done, but Veve kept twisting and wiggling.

“It tickles,” she complained.

Veve and Connie were dressed in clown suits and then they were ready for their act. The starter of the circus told them where they were to stand. They were instructed to remain out of view near the band players until time for them to blow the silver whistle. “I’ll let Connie start Eva’s riding act,” the man said. “And Veve may end it.”

The music soon struck up, filling the big tent which by this time was crowded with spectators.

Veve and Connie stood very still, feeling a tiny bit frightened.

“I’m glad we don’t have to ride a horse or swing on a trapeze,” Veve whispered. “Then I would be scared.”

The music had changed tempo, the signal for the opening procession. Into the arena trooped the elephants, the horses and the performers in their spangled costumes. Expectantly, Veve and Connie waited for the arrival of the golden coach.

Soon it rolled into the sawdust ring, drawn by spirited white horses with red and purple plumes.

Seated proudly in the coach were all the Brownies—Jane, Eileen, Rosemary, Belinda and Sunny, who grinned from ear to ear.

“How grand they look!” Connie whispered.

Half way around the big ring the coach was drawn, and then the driver halted the steeds in the center of the tent facing a large American flag.

The band struck up a piece which the girls knew very well indeed, for it began:

As the coach halted, the Brownies smartly saluted, raising right hand to the temple with the first two fingers straight and the baby finger held down.

Everyone cheered and clapped, Connie and Veve longer and louder than anyone else.

Then the music changed, the golden coach rolled on, and the circus began. With their part over, all the Brownies except Veve and Connie, crowded into the front seats to watch the show.

Whenever the whistle blew, the circus acts would change.

“It’s nearly time for Eva to ride now,” Veve whispered nervously.

“I—I wish we hadn’t promised to blow the whistle,” Connie said, her teeth chattering.

The man in charge stepped over to where the two girls stood.

“All right,” he said in a low tone. “Come with me.”

Connie and Veve followed him to the edge of the center ring. The stands were so filled with people they scarcely could see a vacant seat. High in the tent, trapeze performers whirled back and forth on their swings.

The man thrust the silver whistle into Connie’s hand.

“Now!” he ordered.

Connie took a deep breath and blew a shrill blast. Instantly, the music changed. Down the ropes slid the trapeze performers. And into the ring rode Eva, her mother and father on their beautiful white horses.

The three riders went through their act, winning thunderous applause. Eva at the right moment did the difficult somersault just as well as she had in the afternoon show.

The man in charge of the circus was watching the act closely. Turning to Veve, he gave the command:

“Now!”

Veve raised the whistle to her lips and blew as hard as she could.

Again the music changed. The riding act left the ring.

“Now scamper back to your places,” the circus man instructed the two girls. “That will be all.”

Connie and Veve moved toward the exit, trying not to walk in front of spectators. They both felt very proud and relieved, for they had blown the silver whistle at exactly the right moment.

Suddenly Connie paused, staring at a man in the audience.

“Veve, look over there!”

“I can’t hear you,” answered Veve. “The band is making too much noise.”

“Look over in the fifth row of seats!” exclaimed Connie in a louder voice. “Doesn’t that man look like Pickpocket Joe?”

Veve turned to stare at the spectator.

“Why, it does look a little like him,” she agreed. “Only I can’t see him very well because of the bright lights.”

“Let’s find Clem Gregg right away,” proposed Connie. She was very excited now.

“But are you sure it’s Pickpocket Joe, Connie? If we made a mistake, Mr. Gregg might be annoyed at us for bothering him.”

Connie gazed again at the man who was watching the ring acts.

“I’m not real sure,” she admitted.

“Then let’s sneak out into the audience and get behind him,” suggested Veve. “Perhaps we can see him better then.” “All right,” agreed Connie. “Don’t look at him when we walk past.”

The girls found vacant seats almost directly behind the man. Connie was certain he was the same person she had seen that morning at the railroad station. But was he Pickpocket Joe?

“I wish he would turn his face this way,” she whispered to Veve.

“Watch me! I’ll make him do it.”

Deliberately, Veve gave the man a little kick with her shoe. The fellow turned around quickly enough then.

“Say, be careful,” he said, scowling. “That’s my back you’re kicking.”

Now the man didn’t really glance at Veve or Connie. On the other hand, the girls obtained an excellent view of his face. Plainly, he had a large mole on his cheek.

“It’s Pickpocket Joe!” whispered Connie after the man had turned around again. “Now what shall we do?”

“We ought to get Clem Gregg.”

“The circus is nearly over,” whispered Connie. “He might start to leave before we could find Mr. Gregg and get back here.” “Then let’s just keep watch. If we could catch him taking a pocketbook, we’d have proof he’s a pickpocket.”

Connie thought for an instant and then had an even better plan.

“I’ll stay here and watch,” she offered. “You go as fast as you can for Mr. Gregg.”

“I’ll get back as quickly as I can,” Veve promised, scurrying away.

For a while after she had been left alone, Connie sat very still, scarcely taking her eyes from the man. He did not attempt to take anyone’s money, but only watched the circus.

The minutes passed and Veve did not return with Mr. Gregg. Anxiously, Connie looked about for them. She could not see Veve or the detective anywhere in the audience.

All too soon, the show came to an end. As the crowd started to leave the tent, the man also arose.

Connie scarcely knew what to do. She decided to follow the man, but that was not easy because he walked directly into the dense crowd. Connie had to wriggle and push to keep up with him.

The pickpocket was walking toward the exit. He did not appear to notice that he was being followed. After a while, Connie saw him press quite close to a fat, bald-headed man.

“Beg pardon,” he mumbled. “Did I step on your foot?”

As Pickpocket Joe spoke, his hand slid deftly into the man’s coat pocket. His fingers were very nimble. Had Connie not been expecting it, she never would have seen him steal the billfold.

Hardly knowing what else to do, she tugged at the fat man’s sleeve.

“Oh, Mister!” she cried. “Your billfold has been taken. And he took it.” She pointed to Pickpocket Joe.

The bald-headed man clutched at his coat pocket.

“My watch is missing too!” he exclaimed. “Hey, you!”

Whirling around, he seized Pickpocket Joe by the coat-tails. The man jerked away and started to squeeze through the crowd.

“Oh, he’s escaping!” cried Connie in alarm.

The fat man started after the pickpocket. However, he never could have overtaken him, for he was too large to get through the crowd easily.

Connie also darted after the pickpocket, calling for help. Now, unknown to her, assistance was close at hand. Veve, unable to find Clem Gregg, had gathered the Brownies together. Even at this moment, Miss Gordon, Mrs. Williams and the girls were coming directly toward the pickpocket.

Miss Gordon saw the man at the very instant that Connie called for help. And she recognized him as the stranger who had brushed against her at the Rosedale circus.

“Spread out, girls!” she gave the order. “Form a ring around him.”

Veve and the other Brownies obeyed the command, hemming the pickpocket in. Their action gave the fat man time to rush up and seize Pickpocket Joe.

“Help! Help!” he shouted, and his voice carried a long distance in the tent.

“Clem Gregg!” shrieked Connie.

Now the circus detective stood near the tent exit. Hearing the shouts, he elbowed his way to where the Brownies had ringed in the pickpocket.

The thief jerked free from the fat man only to run straight into Clem Gregg.

“Not so fast, Joe,” said the detective, seizing his arm and holding it in a tight grip. “I’ve been looking for you.” “Let me go!” the man demanded angrily. “I’ve not done anything.”

“Yes, he has,” accused the fat man. “He took my billfold.”

“And he’s the same one who stole Miss Gordon’s watch and our Brownie camp money,” added Veve excitedly.

Detective Gregg went through the man’s pockets. He found only one wallet which did not belong to the fat gentleman. Nor was his missing watch there either.

Veve and Connie were deeply puzzled. What had become of the articles? They knew the pickpocket had taken them.

“I suppose you dropped the watch and billfold when you ran,” said the detective to Pickpocket Joe. “An old trick of yours!”

“It may be an old trick, but you can’t prove anything,” the man retorted. “You’ve no evidence.”

Mr. Gregg knew the pickpocket was right. If he turned him over to the police, the man might bring a charge of false arrest.

Hearing the detective’s words, the Brownies started back through the thinning crowd. Carefully they searched the sawdust for the missing billfold and watch. The girls still were searching unsuccessfully when Connie heard a lady directly behind her exclaim:

“Well, I never! See what I’ve found!”

Connie whirled around in time to see the lady pick up an object from beneath one of the board seats. She knew Pickpocket Joe had passed that same place only a moment before his capture.

“Oh, give it to me, please!” she cried, hurrying toward the lady.

“Surely two watches and a billfold can’t belong to you,” replied the one who had found the articles.

“Two watches,” repeated Connie. “I saw Pickpocket Joe steal only one.”

Just then she caught a glimpse of the two watches. The large yellow gold one obviously belonged to a man. The other was a lady’s wrist watch, tiny and made of white gold.

Connie scarcely could believe her own eyes.

“Why, that’s the watch Pickpocket Joe stole back in Rosedale!” she exclaimed. “It belongs to Miss Gordon!”