“Perhaps I will go into a circus some day,” answered Andy, seriously. “I’ve heard that some daring fellows earn two or three hundred dollars per week at it.”
“They do,” put in Pepper. “But they risk their necks every time they perform.”
“I don’t see how you can do some of those tricks,” put in Joe Nelson. “As you do them, they seem as easy as pie, but when I try them, I can’t do them at all.”
“I guess I was born to it,” answered Andy, with a quiet smile. “Somehow it always came natural to me.”
“Must have circus blood in your veins,” said Pepper, and then there was a general laugh.
In his cell, Dan Baxter passed day after day in moody silence. He was allowed only his school books, and each day Josiah Crabtree or George Strong visited him to hear him recite. Only once did Coulter manage to see him on the sly.
“Mumps and Paxton can’t come,” said Gus Coulter. “They are being watched night and day.”
“They have deserted me, and they gave me away!” growled the bully.
“No, they haven’t deserted you,” answered Coulter. “And they didn’t tell on you.”
“Then who did tell on me?”