The boss chuckled.
“Get down and talk business with me, young feller,” he said. “You won’t ride Jazz in the ring to-night; he’s the rottenest, most treacherous little wretch with the outfit, and I only put you on him to call your bluff. Want to join the show? We had to leave our rough-rider back in the last town with a broken leg.”
Jim shook his head.
“Only for to-night,” he replied. “My sister and I are beating it South.”
“Well, I’ll give you five dollars─”
“No, you won’t,” Jim smiled. “I’ll work for you to-night for just twenty-five cents.”
“Say, you ain’t bughouse, are you?” The boss stared again.
“The fourth part of a dollar, two bits!” Jim replied doggedly. Then his gaze wandered as though casually over to the cook tent, and he added: “However, if you could suggest anything to two hungry people, and 63something else for a little girl who has never seen a circus, Mr. Trimble-and-Wells, and who is waiting for me in the road─”
The boss roared.
“D–d if I don’t think you’re dippy, but you certainly can ride like h–l!” he exclaimed. “I’ll take you up on that; go get the kid and bring her in to supper, and I’ll see that she gets a reserved seat for the show. Holy smoke! A feller that can stick on Jazz, and wants to work for a quarter!”