For some time the doors leading into the "big show" had been open. Crowds were entering the menagerie tent, and passing from there into the "circus top." The noise was steady and continuous, so that it was impossible for Matt, who was usually a light sleeper, to hear the entrance of the Hindoo.
Dhondaram lingered for several minutes. He had not his flat-topped basket with him, and he whirled abruptly and hurried out of the "lean-to."
From the look that flamed in the face of the Hindoo as he left, it seemed as though he was intending to return again—and to bring the cobra with him.
He had not been gone many minutes, however, when Boss Burton entered the calliope tent. This was where he usually met the man from the ticket wagon, as soon as the receipts had been counted and put up in bags, received the money, and carried it to the bank. This part of the work had to be accomplished before three o'clock in the afternoon, as the banks closed at that hour. The money from the evening performance always accompanied Burton in the sleeping car on the second section of the show train, and was deposited in the next town on the show's schedule.
Burton did not see Matt lying on the ground, close up to the calliope, and seated himself on an overturned bucket and lighted a cigar. The weed was no more than well started, when Dhondaram, carrying his basket, appeared softly in the entrance. At sight of Burton, the Hindoo stifled an exclamation and came to a startled halt.
"What's wrong with you?" demanded the showman.
"Nothing at all, sahib," answered Dhondaram, recovering himself.
"Feeling all right now?"
"Yes, sahib."
"Good!"