At this moment Toby saw Mr. Lord enter the tent, and he knew that the summons to start was about to be given.
“Goodby,” he said to the monkey, as he vainly tried to take him by the hand again. “Remember what I've told you, an' don't forget that Toby Tyler is feelin' worse tonight than if he was twice as big an' twice as good.”
Mr. Lord had come to summon him away, and he now told Toby that he would show him with which man he was to ride that night.
Toby looked another goodby at the venerable monkey, who was watching him closely, and then followed his employer out of the tent, among the ropes and poles and general confusion attendant upon the removal of a circus from one place to another.
III. THE NIGHT RIDE
The wagon on which Mr. Lord was to send his new found employee was, by the most singular chance, the one containing the monkeys, and Toby accepted this as a good omen. He would be near his venerable friend all night, and there was some consolation in that. The driver instructed the boy to watch his movements, and when he saw him leading his horses around, “to look lively and be on hand, for he never waited for anyone.”
Toby not only promised to do as ordered, but he followed the driver around so closely that, had he desired, he could not have rid himself of his little companion.
The scene which presented itself to Toby's view was strange and weird in the extreme. Shortly after he had attached himself to the man with whom he was to ride, the performance was over, and the work of putting the show and its belongings into such a shape as could be conveyed from one town to another was soon in active operation. Toby forgot his grief, forgot that he was running away from the only home he had ever known—in fact, forgot everything concerning himself—so interested was he in that which was going on about him.
As soon as the audience had got out of the tent and almost before the work of taking down the canvas was begun.