Every known variety of sound which small boys can produce greeted Ormond de Sylveste as he dismounted, and, with the grace of a dancing master, bowed his thanks.
Other performers appeared and went through their turns. Mr. Ollie Spudger made a speech, and when the show finally ended apparently every one was satisfied with the grand display made by the Peerless.
The spectators had scarcely risen to their feet when the dismantling of the seats began. The blows of hammers, the sound of heavy planks being taken up and piled one upon another, the sharp commands combined with the storm to produce a din and confusion which made only the youthful care to linger.
“Guess they’re going to get ahead of the wind and pull the old canvas down over our ears,” said Victor. “Great Scott! Say——”
“What’s the matter?” asked Dave.
“Don’t you see? Why, the menagerie tent is gone.”
“So it is.”
The brightly-lighted tent which had contained the animals was no longer visible through the exit, its place being taken by a square of darkened sky.
The two hurried forward and found, to their great satisfaction, that the rain had almost ceased.
“Doesn’t it look odd?” said Victor, glancing around, and kicking up the sawdust with his foot.