Even quiet, self-contained Dave felt his nerves tingling curiously. The ordeal of waiting tried his patience. He felt that his throat, for some reason or other, was becoming unpleasantly husky.
And now, after much preliminary tooting, the band struck up. A grand crash was followed by several resounding bangs; then the musicians were safely off. The brass easily predominated, almost drowning the well-meaning attempts of the others.
“When we started on that motor car trip how little I ever expected to run into anything like this,” murmured Dave, softly. “I certainly do wonder where those boys could have gone.”
“Hey there!”
He recognized the rasping voice.
“All right, sir.”
The great moment had arrived.
A strong effort stilled the quick beating of his heart. Walking with a firm step he reached Mr. Whiffin’s side.
“Up with ye! An’ chuck it over strong, now!” commanded the manager.
The chilly wind blowing hard across the lots swayed the great canvas paintings before the entrance and violently fluttered a multitude of flags and pennants floating from the top of ridge poles and strung along various ropes.