“Huh!”
After reading the contract through, the lad affixed his signature to it with trembling hand. It was almost too good to be true.
“Thank you, sir,” he said, laying the paper before Mr. Sparling.
“And now, my lad,” added the showman more mildly, “let me give you some advice. Some folks look upon circus people as rough and intemperate. That day’s past. When a man gets bad habits he’s of no further use in the circus business. He closes mighty quick. Remember that.”
“Yes, sir. You need not worry about my getting into any such trouble.”
“I don’t, or I wouldn’t take you. And another thing: Don’t get it into your head, as a good many show people do, that you know more about running the business than the boss does. He might not agree with you. It’s a bad thing to disagree with the boss, eh?”
“I understand, sir.”
“You’d better.”
“What do you want me to do? I don’t know what I can do to earn that salary, but I am willing to work at whatever you may put me to—”
“That’s the talk. I was waiting for you to come to that. But leave the matter to me. You’ll have a lot of things to do, after you get your bearings and I find out what you can do best. As it is, you have earned your salary for the first season whether you do anything else or not. You saved the big cat and you probably saved my wife’s life, but we’ll let that pass. When can you join out?”