He had heard so much circus talk during his free labors that his mind was more full of the show than ever.
Andy had heard one of the workers describe to a new hand all the excitement, bustle and novelty attending a jump from one town to another.
He strolled about the place but grew restive. Just before dusk he bought some crackers and cheese, filled his pockets with the eatables, and started down the road leading towards Centreville.
Andy met an advance guard of the circus about two miles out of Clifton. Some wagons carried the cooking camp outfit. A little farther on he was met by some menagerie wagons.
"They'll come in sections," ruminated Andy.
"The big tent people won't make a start till after the evening performance. I won't risk going any farther. There's an open barn near the road. I'll take a little snooze, and wake up in time to join the procession of big loads."
Andy secured his little cash reserve in a marble bag. He ate some lunch and made for the open structure he had observed.
It was an old doorless barn near a hay press. A great many bales were stack up at one side. Climbing among these Andy found a cozy boxed in space, carried some loose hay to it, and composed himself for sleep.
"Twenty cents a day is pretty economical living," he reflected, as he studied the stars visible through a chink in the roof. "I wonder what the circus people pay a beginner?"
Wondering about this, and a variety of similar themes, Andy dozed, but was suddenly awakened by the sharp snap of a match and a brief flare.