Nelson accepted it and thanked him. On the back was written in letters half an inch high: “Your frand, Thomas Cronan, the wild man.” They were formally introduced to the Snake Charmer, the Albino Patti, and the Fortune Teller; also to a sad-looking little man in a suit of misfit clothes whose duty it was to lecture about the attractions. Presently they said good-by to Mr. Cronan and went out to the ticket booth. Dan tried to pay for three reserved seats for his companions, but the ticket seller refused to accept any money.
“Go ahead in,” he said smilingly, pushing the tickets and the money toward them. “This is on the show.”
So they thanked him, presented their tickets, and were shown to seats, Dan, however, leaving them to go to the dressing tent and taking Barry with him. There was not so great a crowd as in the afternoon, but for all that the big tent was comfortably filled. They had grown to know a number of the performers by sight now, and the evening performance proved more interesting for that reason. Dan’s fame had spread, and when, near the end of the performance, he appeared at the foot of the ladder, quite a salvo of applause greeted him.
“Look at Barry!” exclaimed Tom.
Dan had brought the terrier in with him, and now, when he began to mount the ladder, Barry started after him. The audience laughed and clapped. Barry managed three rounds of the ladder by hooking his paws over them and dragging his body up, but that was as high as he could get. Three times he made the attempt and three times he tumbled off. Then he gave it up, barked once, and stood watching his master. As before, the tent became stilled, Dan’s voice came down eerily from the platform, the drums rolled, the ringmaster cracked his whip and shouted his shrill “In mid-air!” the dropping pink figure revolved twice, and the water splashed from the tank. Then, as the applause broke out, Dan’s wet head appeared, and Barry leaped frantically toward it. Fighting the terrier off, Dan scrambled from the tank with the assistance of two of the red-coated men, and, grabbing Barry in his arms, disappeared toward the dressing tent.
Afterwards they sought and found Jerry. The mess tent was gone, the wagon packed, and that department was all ready for the road.
“Where do you go next, Jerry?” Bob asked.
“Ridgefield,” answered Jerry. “It’s about forty miles. We travel all night.”
“Don’t you ever go by railroad?” asked Nelson.
“Not when we can help it. It costs more, you see. Some of the performers take the train, though.”