"Are there many?"
"About five to every town we've played in," declared Billy. "They all want to break in, and it's policy to give them a show."
Andy was sent off by the manager to the superintendent of the moving crew about noon. There was considerable lifting to do. Andy was tired when, about six o'clock in the evening, he climbed up on a loaded wagon for the well-earned ride to Tipton.
He had met one of the circus detectives that morning, who told him they had so far discovered no trace of Jim Tapp, or his colleagues, or the stolen mail bag.
They got to Tipton about eight o'clock in the evening. Andy was "told off" to help in the construction work the next morning, and had now twelve hours of his own time.
He was hungry, and knowing that it would be difficult to get much to eat until late, when the cook's quarters had been re-established, he left the wagon as it reached the principal street in Tipton.
Andy went to a restaurant and got a good meal. He decided to stroll about a bit, and then join the clown in his new quarters.
Andy had been to Tipton before. His aunt had some acquaintances there. He walked up and down the principal street, looking in the store windows, and studying the country people who had come to visit the county fair.
Suddenly Andy drew back into the shadow of a doorway. Leaning against a curb hitching post was a person who enchained his attention.
"It's Tapp—Jim Tapp," said Andy. "I'd know that slouch of his shoulders anywhere."