“Marie LaBelle she used to be; worked up on the flyin’ rings until she got too hefty,” his companion explained. “Now she takes care of the wardrobes and sort of looks out that the Human Doll don’t get lost in the shuffle; the midget, you know. Now peel, and I’ll give you a rub-down with some liniment.”
Jim tried to protest, but the husky individual only grinned the broader.
“You may be some boy when it comes to bronco-bustin’, but I’m the Strong Man in the sideshow, and you haven’t a chance.”
Meekly Jim submitted to his companion’s kindly ministrations, and then dressing quickly, made his way out into the glare of the early morning sun.
The big top was down, and poles and animal cages were being loaded on long trucks as he emerged. An appetizing odor of fried pork floated upon the air from the direction of the cook tent, and people seemed to be rushing all over the lot in wildest confusion, but Jim caught a glimpse of a bit of pink-and-white 72check through the mêlée, and headed for it.
Lou was sitting on the grass in cordial confab with a melancholy-looking, lantern-jawed man, but at his approach she jumped up precipitately and ran to him.
“Oh, Jim, you feelin’ all right?” There was a little tremble in her voice. “I knew it was you the minute you rode past an’ picked up that handkerchief Mr. Perkins give you yesterday, an’ when you pitched off that horse I thought you was dead. You hadn’t no call to take any chance like that with your back hurt an’ that long tramp an’ all; but it was splendid.”
She paused, breathless, and he patted her shoulder. Somehow she didn’t look so downright homely this morning, or else he was growing used to her little, turned-up nose. Her tow-colored hair was looser about her face, and where the sun struck a strand of it, it shone like spun gold.
“I’m fine,” he assured her. “But who was that man you were talking to just now?”
“Him? Oh, that was the clown,” Lou replied. 73“He says the old man is just crazy ’bout your ridin’, an’ if you’ll stay along with the show he can teach me to stand still for the knife-thrower; the last girl got scared, an’ quit just because she got a little scratch on the neck. The clown says I got the nerve for it, an’ I guess I have, only they ain’t goin’ towards New York.”