Al was, perhaps, the coolest person in the crowd. Disengaging himself from the embrace of his new-found friend, he said:
"There's nothing to cry about, madam; I'm all right."
"You're sure you're not hurt?" sobbed the lady, scarcely knowing what she was saying.
"Not in the least; not so much as scratched."
"You've had a mighty narrow escape, all the same, young man," said the elephant's keeper—the procession had come to a standstill, and many of the employees had crowded around the boy. "This ought to be a lesson to you not to try to cross a circus parade again."
"It will be," said Al, with a smile. "At any rate, I shall be careful not to get too near the elephants."
Just then a nervous, bustling little man with a notebook in his hand forced his way through the crowd to where Al was standing.
"I represent the Rockton Daily Banner," he announced. "Please give me your name, sir."
"Certainly," replied the boy, with an eye to business. "I am the advance agent of Wattles' New York Comedy Company, which plays here to-morrow night, appearing in——"
"That's all right," the reporter interrupted. "I know what it appears in. But your name, please."