“Well,” says Bosco sad-like, “I ain’t been paid for two weeks, and they left me stranded here without no clothes, so you can draw your own conclusions.”
Never since the Lord dumped the leavings of the Bad Lands and wrote in the big book, “They will call this Piperock,” has the old moon looked down upon the like. Into the old cow-town, at five A.M., drags the darndest conglomeration a human ever conceived. The Simpkins’ Stupendous Shows Combined drifted into Piperock. It was Magpie’s idea. I wanted to take the things the other way, but Magpie wanted to give the old-timers the treat of their lives and Magpie usually has his way.
Magpie drove the team, which hauled dogs, monkeys, tent-poles and so forth. Then came Bosco on Alcibiades, leading Allah, and behind them cometh Ike Harper driving four calico ponies hitched to a tiger’s cage, inside of which Cleopatra yowled and complained against alkali, rheumatism and lack of sleep. We led our broncs and left ’em at our own shack as we came past.
We pulled around behind the city, unhitched, unloaded and then laid down on a part of the Pearl of Egypt’s tent and went to sleep. When we wakes up we observes Scenery Sims looking over our outfit.
“What is this here mess and what you fellers aiming to do?” he asks.
“This?” asks Magpie surprized-like. “This is Simpkins’ Stupendous Shows Combined.”
“Yes? What you aiming to do with it?”
“Show her off in Piperock tomorrow. She’s some attraction, Scenery.”
“Belong to you, Magpie?”
“Feathers and everything!”