“Do you live at Greeley?” I inquired.
“No, sir,” he said, in an embarrassed way, as most anyone might in the presence of greatness. “I live on a ranch up the Pandre. I was just at Greeley to see the circus.”
I thought I would play the tenderfoot and inquiring pilgrim from the cultured East, so I said: “You do not see the circus often in the West, I presume, the distance is so great between towns and the cost of transportation is so great?”
“No, sir. This is the first circus I ever was to. I have never saw a circus before.”
“How did you like it?”
“O, tip-top. It was a good thing. I'd like to see it every day if I could, I laughed and drank lemonade till I've got my cloze all pinned up with pins, and I'd as soon tell you, if you wont give it away, that my pants is tied on me with barbed fence wire.”
“Probably that's what gives you that anxious and apprehensive look?”
“Yes, sir. If I look kind of doubtless about something, its because I'm afraid my pantaloons will fall off on the floor and I will have to borrow a roller towel to wear home.”
“How did you like the animals?”
“I liked that part of the Great Moral Aggregation the best of all. I have not saw such a sight before. I could stand there and watch that there old scaly elephant stuff hay into his bosom with his long rubber nose for hours. I'd read a good deal first and last about the elephant, the king of beasts, but I had never yet saw one. Yesterday father told me there hadn't been much joy into my young life, and so he gave me a dollar and told me to go over to the circus and have a grand time. I tell you, I just turned myself loose and gave myself up to pleasure.”