Andy reached the principal street just as the grand pageant went by. It was a spectacle that dazzled him. The music, the glitter, the pomp, the fair array of wild animals made him forget everything except that he was a boy enjoying a rare moment of existence.
It was the inner life of the circus people, however, that attracted Andy. It was his great ambition to be one of them. He was not content to remain a spectator of the outside veneer of show life. He wanted to know something of its practical side.
Andy did not dally around the ticket seller's booth, the side shows or the crowded main entrance of the show.
Once, when a small circus had visited Fairview, he had gotten a free pass by carrying buckets of water to the cook's tent.
He had now a vague hope that some such fortunate chance might turn up on this new occasion.
Andy soon discovered, however, that the present layout was on a far different scale to the second-class show he had seen at Fairview.
It was a city in itself. There were well-defined bounds as to the circus proper. Ropes strung along iron stakes driven into the ground kept curious visitors at a distance.
The performers' tent, the horse tents, the cook's quarters and the sleeping space of the working hands were all guarded, and intruders warned to keep their distance.
Everything was neat and clean, and a well-ordered system prevailed everywhere.
The savory flavor of roasting meat made Andy desperately hungry. He saw a fat, aproned cook hastily gathering up some chips near a chopping block. Andy offered to split him some fresh wood, but received only an ungracious: