"Get out! No trespassers allowed here."
Andy wandered about for a long time. He greatly envied a lad about his own age who, adorned with a gilt-braided jacket, was walking a beautiful Arabian steed up and down.
While he was staring at the circus boy, two popcorn boys connected with the show ran into him purposely and tripped him up. They went off with a laugh at his mishap. Andy concluded he was getting in the way as a gruff, grizzled old fellow with a bludgeon ran forward and yelled to him to make himself scarce.
"I wish I could get into the show," murmured Andy "There seems no way to work it, though," he added disconsolately. "I wonder if they'd let me stay here? When that canvas flaps I can see right into the main tent."
Andy was right near the canvassed passageway leading from the performers' tent to the main one.
If no one disturbed him he could have occasional glimpses of what was going on inside, and that was better than nothing.
Fate, however, was against him. He heard quick breathing, and turning saw the big watchman rapidly making for him, club uplifted.
"Trying to get in under the canvas, eh?" roared the man.
"Not I—I wouldn't steal anything, not even a sneak into the show," declared Andy.
He retreated promptly, but in doing so tripped over a guy rope and went flat.