When they parted, the manager was better pleased than ever with Al. His "points" did not seem to be needed by the boy; a knowledge of and adaptability to the business seemed to have been born in him.
"You're all right," said Mr. Wattles, slapping his new advance agent on the shoulder just before they parted. "I consider a big house in Rockton a dead-sure thing."
Al was not quite so confident, however. In Boomville circumstances had favored him, but he could not hope for the same luck in Rockton; there he would have to prove his fitness to be the advance agent of the New York Comedy Company by tact and hard work.
In conversation with a gentleman on the train, he learned a fact of which Mr. Wattles had not informed him—that Barnum's circus was at Rockton.
"There won't be a corporal's guard at your show," said his informant, unsympathetically. "Everybody for miles around has been saving up to go to the circus. Other shows will be simply not in it."
As if to add to Al's annoyance, the circus parade was going on when he reached Rockton; at any other time he would have stopped and looked at it, but he was not in the mood now.
The sidewalks near the depot were crowded with eager sightseers. Al forced his way through their ranks, and attempted to cross the street, heedless of the warning cries of those who saw him.
He had reached the middle of the street when he attracted the attention of one of the elephants, an animal with a national reputation for viciousness. The beast quickened its pace, reached the boy, seized him in its trunk and raised him high in the air, with the evident intention of dashing him to the pavement.
A cry of horror rose from the crowd. Apparently Al was doomed to a frightful death.