“Seven—two of ’em halves,” answered Neale quickly.
“Well, where’s the money—where’s the cash?” asked the cashier rather snappily, and then, for the first time, he looked up. A queer change came over his face as he recognized Neale.
“Well, for the love of alligators!” he exclaimed, thrusting forth his hand. “When’d you get on the lot?”
“Just arrived,” answered Neale with a smile. “Got some friends of mine here who want to see the show.”
“Surest thing you know!” cried the cashier. “How many’d you say? Seven—two halves? Here you are,” and he flipped the tickets down on the wooden shelf in front of him. “Are you coming back to join the outfit?” he went on. “We could bill ‘Master Jakeway’s’ act very nicely now, I imagine. Only,” and he chuckled, “we’d have to drop the ‘Master.’ You’ve got beyond that.”
“No, I’m not coming back,” answered Neale. “That isn’t saying I wouldn’t like to, perhaps. But I have other plans. I’ve heard that my father has returned from the Klondike, and I want to see my uncle to find if he has any news. Is he around—Uncle Bill, I mean?”
“Yes, he was talking to me a while ago. And I did hear him mention, some time back, that he had news of your father. Well, well! I am glad to see you again, Neale. Stop in and see me after the show.”
“I’ll try to,” was the answer.
Hank, being given his ticket, went away by himself, and, after greeting some more of his circus friends, Neale began a search for his uncle. It was not an easy matter to locate any of the circus men on the “lot” at an hour just before the performance was to begin. And Tess and Dot were eager to go in and see the animals, the side shows, the main performance and everything else.
“I’d better take them in,” Ruth said finally. “You can join us later, Neale, you and Mr. Howbridge.”