"Say, he's great!" Andy exclaimed irrepressibly, as Ripley slowed down again.
"I guess so," nodded the latter, aroused out of his crustiness by Andy's enthusiasm. "That Lucille was famous, once. Past her prime a little now, but when her old driver has the reins, she don't forget, does she?"
Ripley took a turn into a side street and finally halted, giving Andy the reins.
"Got to order something," he said.
Andy saw him enter a store, but only to leave it by a side door and cross an alley into a saloon.
Ripley tried to appear very business-like when he came back to the wagon, but Andy caught the taint of liquor in his breath.
Twice again the circus veteran made stops in the same manner. He became quite chatty and confidential.
Ripley explained to Andy that he went regularly for the circus mail at each town where the show stopped.
"Postmasters kick, with five hundred strangers calling for their mail," he explained, "so we always forward a list of the employees. This mail, just before pay day, when the crowd is usually hard up, brings a good many money letters from friends. That rubber stamp you saw the manager give me O.K.'s all the registered cards at the post office. Once the wagon was robbed. The looters made quite a haul. Not when I was on duty, though."
At a drug store Ripley got several packages and some more at a general merchandise store. Finally they reached the post office, and Ripley drove around to a sort of hitching alley at its side.