He lay listening dreamily to the jolty clatter of the wagons, the shouts of the drivers, and the commotion of the animals in the menagerie cages. Meanwhile he was thinking ardently of the next day. It would decide his fate. He felt hopeful that the show would take him on from the fact that Miss Stella Starr had required his presence the next morning.
"Hey," spoke a sudden voice, "give us a chaw, will you?"
Andy with a start turned to face the boy he had noticed asleep. The latter had rudely knocked his shoulder. He had looked mean to Andy while slumbering. He looked tough as he fixed his eyes on Andy, wide open.
"I don't 'chaw,'" said the latter.
"Teeth gone?" sneered the other.
"No, that's why I don't care to lose them," retorted Andy.
"Huh! Say, Snitzellbaum, loan me a little tobacco, will you?"
The speaker had nudged the musician. The latter eyed him with little favor.
"You vas a kid," he observed, stirring up. "Vhen you grow up, maybe. Not now."
The boy let out a string of rough expletives under his breath. Then fixing his eye on Andy curiously, he demanded: