“Then that makes it even, eh, Bob? How do you vote?”
“We might as well run around that way, Tom.”
“I suppose Clifton won’t be happy unless he can give the elephants peanuts,” grunted Charlie.
The scattered buildings had given place to long rows. Along a wide avenue lined on both sides with handsome residences the Rambler Club’s motor car carried the three toward the business section of Racine. Again the chauffeur was obliged to look out for cars, vehicles and pedestrians, but, as no time was lost save when absolutely necessary, the town was quickly crossed.
At length they came in sight of several circus tents rising in the midst of a vast lot. They could see, too, a number of huge red wagons, a miscellaneous collection of venders’ stands and a considerable crowd seeming to move in all directions.
“Gee! Looks like some show to me,” remarked Tom, highly interested. “Mighty big pictures they have hanging up by the entrance.”
“That’s high art,” said Charlie.
“How do you know?” queried Tom.
“That’s easy; they’re at least six feet off the ground.”
“Huh, you’re getting real smart,” snapped Tom.