"So did I before I went into the business. A fellow may make a big stake this week and lose it all at the next stand. If you strike bad weather, or a crowd that hasn't got any money, it's up-hill work to pull in the entrance fee. Now, I have to pay a hundred dollars for this privilege, because I've got a big tent, and it wouldn't be any more if I had a show to compare with it in size. It'll take a good many ten-cent pieces to make that up."
This plain statement of facts caused Teddy to figure how many nickels he must receive before the capital invested and stolen would be returned, and the result was far from gratifying.
"The eighteen dollars which must be given to Uncle Nathan, the thirty I owe in Waterville, and ten I paid for the privilege of running the boards makes eleven hundred and sixty five-cent pieces. I'll never see so many customers as that, and Aunt Sarah was right when she called me a fool for thinking of going into the business," he said to himself, as his companions began to make their preparations for the night.
It is useless to "cry over spilled milk," however, and this he realized in time to prevent himself from being plunged into the lowest depths of despondency. It was barely possible business would be exceptionally good, he argued mentally, and if hard work could accomplish the desired result he must be successful.
Dan was already lying down with his head toward the side of the tent and his feet near the oil-stove, which had been left burning because of the dampness, and Teddy crawled over by the side of him. Sam had decided to sleep by the side of his host, probably with the idea that he might appear to be on terms of greater intimacy, and all hands gave themselves up to slumber.
The excitement of the morning and subsequent labor had so tried Teddy that, despite the hardness of his bed, he fell asleep in a very few moments, and it was not yet nine o'clock when all the inmates of the tent, save the goat, and possibly the alligator and snakes, were wrapped in blissful unconsciousness.
Half an hour later a terrific yell from Sam caused the remainder of the party to spring to their feet in alarm.
"What's the matter?" Dan cried.
"Somebody has got into the tent and been poundin' me with a club! I'm pretty near killed."
The faint glow cast by the oil-stove was not sufficient to illumine any portion of the tent, and the host made all haste to light a lantern, after which Dan proceeded to search for the supposed intruder; but before he had taken a dozen steps the proprietor of the museum burst into a hearty laugh.