"What kind of a way was that?" Danny was all eagerness for information of that sort.
"I don't know," said Jerry. "He thought of something an' told me to keep my eyes shut an' I didn't see what he done."
"Didn't you open 'em jest once?" demanded Danny. "I would of and then mebbe we could of got into other circuses that way."
"It might of mixed our thoughts, like when I said something when he told me not to," Jerry observed.
"What d'you mean, mixin' your thoughts?"
Jerry was saved by the entrance of Mr. Burrows from trying to explain just what he did mean by that, for he hadn't understood very well himself. The circus man was smiling all over as he approached Jerry and seemed just as pleased that Jerry had found his parents as Jerry was himself.
"Well, well, well," he said, holding out a hand which Jerry accepted in the same amicable spirit in which it was offered, "so you're the son of Robert Bowe! We were good friends before you were stolen and I hope will be again when you get reacquainted with me. Maybe your father and mother will be satisfied to stay with the circus now that you have been found."
"Was they goin' to leave the circus?" asked Danny in an awed voice.
"So they said," answered Mr. Burrows, "but now I guess they'll stay."
"Go away an' not be a clown no more?" Jerry asked this new-old friend, as one man to another.