Outside, the Toyman kept looking, looking everywhere. There was no sign of Marmaduke's tow head nor of little yellow Wienerwurst.
They were on the other side of the tent, outside too, mixed up with men and women they didn't know, and hundreds of boys and girls. They could see other men too, with striped shirts and loud voices, standing in small houses. And the small houses looked just like little stores, and on the counters were good things to eat,—popcorn, peanuts, cracker jack, and something cool in glasses, like lemonade but coloured like strawberries. Loud did the men shout, trying to sell those good things to everybody who came near.
But Marmaduke couldn't buy even one peanut. He didn't have any money. How was he ever going to get into that circus!
Oh, where was the Toyman?
But he didn't cry. You know he didn't. He just shut his teeth hard, and winked and winked.
At last Wienerwurst gave a little bark. He saw a little hole, and Wienerwurst always liked little holes. It was under the tent and just his size. Right into it he crawled. All Marmaduke could see of his doggie now was his little tail like a sausage. The rest of him was under the tent. Thump-thump-thump went the tail. And Marmaduke knew it must be pretty nice inside.
Then the tail, too, disappeared. So down on his stomach went the little boy and crawled right in after his doggie.
The tent had several big rooms and he was in one of them. On every side were big cages with iron bars.
"Girrrrrrrrrrrhhh!" went something in one of the cages.
That wicked runaway tiger!