"Then the Big Consolidated," said McGlory, "might as well look for another boss."
"See here, Burton," went on Matt, "you've been having the aëroplane tag your string of four elephants during the parade, and Rajah's been at the end of the string and right in front of the flying machine. You've got to give the machine another place. I'll not take chances with it, if Rajah's in the march. You ought to remember what a close call the brute gave us in Lafayette."
"Nobody's going to change places in the parade!" declared Burton.
He was a man of mercurial temperament, and could only be managed by firmness.
"Either Rajah stays out of the procession," exclaimed Motor Matt calmly, "or the Comet does."
"And you can paste that in your hat, Burton," added McGlory. "What Pard Matt says goes."
"Oh, hang it," growled Burton, coming to his senses; "if you fellows bear down on me like that, of course you win out; but I hate to have a measly elephant butt into my plans and make me change 'em. Now——"
"Say, Mr. Burton," spoke up a canvasman, stepping to the showman's side and touching his arm, "there's a dark-skinned mutt in a turban what wants ter see ye in the calliope tent."
Burton whirled on the canvasman.
"Dark skinned man in a turban?" he repeated. "Does he look like a Hindoo?"