"He's run away."
"Run away!" ejaculated Kit's uncle. "What is the meaning of that?"
"He said he didn't want to be a blacksmith, and that you had no authority to make him."
"But where has he gone? Have you any idea?"
"He has gone off with Barlow's circus."
"But what object can he have in going off with a circus?" asked Mr. Watson, no less bewildered.
"They've hired him to perform."
"Are you sure of this?"
"I ought to be," answered the blacksmith, grimly. "My wife and I saw him jumpin' round last evenin' in the circus tent over at Grafton."
"But I don't see what he—a green hand—can do. Ralph, can you throw any light on this mystery?"