Having finished his first act, he went to the center of the stage, and there standing on his hind legs made his bow to the audience.
One sniff and he had recognized his owners.
It was like a flash of lightning. Next instant he had hurled off his clown's hat and leaped at them like a mad thing. He bounded over benches and fell, eyes full of tears, whimpering softly, into the arms of Bertha, who held him trembling and sobbing.
For a long time they clung to one another. This performance amazed the public; the circus people thought at first that this was just one of Clown's mad tricks—to which they were growing accustomed—but soon the truth was known when Reine, surprised and anxious, came forward and asked for an explanation.
"Mademoiselle," said Bertha's father, "I am extremely sorry to interrupt the performance, but, as you see, the dog is ours. He was stolen from us. There is no doubt at all that he is our dog, and I demand that the manager give him back to us at once."
His decided tone convinced the young girl.
