Billy Blow, the clown, woke up just as the wagon reached the tent site at Clifton. It was nearly midnight.
His sleep did not seem to have refreshed him much. He got down from the vehicle like a man half-awake, and as if the effort hurt him. He had to shake himself to get the stiffness out of his limbs.
"Dis vos dot poy I told you aboud, Billy," said the musician.
"Oh, yes, yes," answered the clown in a preoccupied way, with a quick look at Andy. "I'll take him under my wing until Marco comes along. This way, kid. I've some baggage to look after. Then we'll bunk."
Andy bade Hans Snitzellbaum adieu with reluctance. He liked the bluff-hearted old German with his fatherly ways.
"Goot py for dot bresent times," said the fat musician. "Vhen I sees you mit dose tumblers, I gives some big bang-bang, boom-boom, hey?"
"I hope you will," responded Andy with a cheery laugh.
He followed Billy Blow. The latter finally found the wagon he was after. He bundled its contents about and got a small wooden box and a big wicker trunk to one side.
"Wish you'd mind these till I see if I can't make quick sleeping quarters," Blow said to Andy.
"Yes, sir, I'll be glad to," answered Andy willingly, and the clown hurried off in his usual nervous fashion.