Ernie spoke up shrilly. "You bet your life he ain't going to leave the show." Dick turned pink about the ears.
"Never mind that, kid," he said uneasily. David instinctively knew that there was a girl in the balance.
Dick had the wonderful knack of "spotting" a policeman two blocks away. At times this quality in him was positively uncanny.
"I can see 'em through a brick wall," he said to David. "I guess it must be second sight."
"It's second smell," said Ernie briefly.
They came at length to the show grounds. Here, to David's amazement, every one they met greeted the tall youth with a shout of joy. He shook hands with all of them, from the hostler to the manager, from the "butcher" to the highest-priced performer, without any apparent distinction.
"Hello, Dick, old boy!" was the universal greeting.
"Hello, kid!" was his genial response, to young and old alike. Women, sunning themselves, waved their hands gayly at him; some of them wafted kisses—which he gallantly returned. Old Joey Noakes took his pipe out of his mouth, crinkled his face up into a mighty smile, and exclaimed:
"It's good for sore eyes to see you again, Dicky. How was it this time?"
"I liked the stone pile better than the chuck they gave us. Gee whiz, I'll never get pinched in that burg again."