“The tent seems to be actually swallowing people,” objected Clifton. “There won’t be any places left.”
“Only wish they were turning hundreds away,” exclaimed Charlie. “Then we wouldn’t be able to go in.”
When the stampede to gain admission was over the band ceased playing with remarkable promptness, and Dave as promptly resumed speaking.
It was clearly evident that those who failed to avail themselves of the opportunity of seeing the great Spudger show on that particular afternoon would be making one of the most amazing mistakes of their lives. Dave almost said as much.
“Thank goodness we haven’t missed it,” said Bob, with a smile. “Oh,” he turned abruptly at the sound of a voice—“you here again, Joe!”
“’Tain’t nobody else,” chuckled Joe.
“Mr. Rodgers looks like a living danger signal,” said Charlie, his eyes scanning Joe’s flaming red vest.
The circus boy seemed to construe this as a great compliment. He grinned complacently.
“You fellers is certainly all to the good,” he said, graciously. “An’, say, isn’t Dave a Jim dandy?”
“Of course he is,” laughed Charlie. “How do you like circus life, Joe?”