"Yes, sir."
The lads delivered the message.
Mr. Sparling's eyes twinkled as these two worthies sneaked into his tent, each with a hangdog expression on his face. "Red" Larry had a black eye, while Bad Eye's nose appeared to have listed to one side.
The showman glanced at Larry's coat, then at the button in his own hand. He nodded understandingly. Bad Eye was collarless.
"Here's a button that I think you lost off your coat last night, Larry," smiled Mr. Sparling sweetly. "And, Bad Eye, here's your collar. Better send it to the washerwoman."
The men were speechless for the moment.
"Go to the boss, both of you, and get your time. Then I want you to clear out of here."
"Wha—what—we ain't done nothing," protested Larry.
"And you had better not. If I see you about the circus lot again this season, I'll have you both in the nearest jail quicker than you can say 'scat!' Understand? Get out of here!"
The showman half rose from his chair, glaring angrily at them. His good-nature had suddenly left him, and the canvasmen, knowing what they might expect from the wrathful showman, stood not upon the order of their going. They ran.