"Must be a clown," suggested one.
"No, I am not a clown. My little friend who performs with me, and comes from the same town I do, is one. I wish he were here. He would make you laugh until you couldn't stand without leaning against something."
"Here, Joe! Here, Joe!" their guide began calling in a loud voice, alternating with loud whistling.
Phil heard a rustling over behind the straw stack, and then out trotted a big, black draft horse, a heavy-footed, broad-backed Percheron, to his astonishment.
"My, that's a fine piece of horse flesh," glowed the lad. "We have several teams of those fellows for the heavy work with the show. Of course we don't use them in the ring. Is this what you brought me here to see?"
"Yep. Git up there."
"What do you mean?"
"Git up and show us fellers if you're a real circus man."
"You mean you want me to ride him?" said Phil.
"Sure thing."