“They wuz on the lots waitin’ for us when the boss landed to lay off the pitch for the round top, we wuz only usin’ one then an’ had no an’mals to speak of. The fakirs got in the game early an’ transparent cards from gay Paree was the first bait and bitin’ was good. ’Fore the parade started all hands was busy on the lot takin’ care of the games an’ say the farmers had it with ’em in rolls. The foxy boy in the ticket wagon has all his bad coin ready and the constable with the badge has been fixed with a ten to see there’s no argument when short change is handed out.
“Oh! we worked systematic them days.
“Well, say, before the band had struck up the grand march for the entree gold bricks wuz sellin’ like cod fish cakes at a nigger camp meetin’ an’ the boys what was workin’ the shells had to lay off to get the stiffness out’er their fingers.
“I hates to tell it, I hates to tell it in the days there’s nothing’ doin’.
“You see I was cappin’ for the boss of the show an’ say that day keeps me busier than a man drivin’ sheep. The outfit was gettin’ thirty-five per cent. of the graft an’ if the partic’lar grafter who was gettin’ the coin failed to come up we se’ed that he was prop’ly turned over to the off’cers of the law an’ we did the prosecutin’ on the groun’ that we was runnin’ a strictly moral show. Say, while I was watchin’, a farmer with a bunch of weeds under his chin an’ a face like a quince comes up to me an’ makes a holler. Somebody had touched him for his wad ’fore he could get to the games an’ he was dead sore. I se’ed that he was goin’ to make trouble so I remembers that his wagon is standin’ in the dirt road by the lot. I gives a stakeman the tip he kicks the off bay in the flanks an’ there’s a runaway. The corn cutter chases after his team an’ forgits that he ever had a roll.
“An’ say at night down in the car the air was hot. The tin horns was busy and coin was droppin’ like rotten apples in a mill race. The boys what was dealin’ the faro had monkeyed with the deck an’ it was far to the bad for the spenders. ’Bout time to start haulin’ for the cars two burly boys begins to talk fight an’ it looks like Hey Rube all aroun’. One sticks his knuckles into me face an’ I says to him sort’er fierce like.
“Say, young fellow, if youse lookin’ for fight I’ll git one of the boys to stick his teeth in your neck an’ you’ll change your mind.
“There was no gun playin’ but there was a lot of chinnin’ and cussin’ but we finally gets the tin horns out an’ starts ’em up the road to the first section. The gang is hot after us an’ there was only one thing saved us. Jes’ as the crowd was closin’ in I sees the tiger den with the two blacks pullin’ it comin’ over the hill. I chases forward to the trainer an’ when the cage gits up close we jes’ shoves them two tin horn dealers in the den with the tigers an’ saves their lives.”
“Never could make a return date there, could you, Bill?” asked the Boss Canvasman as he made one of the spotted coach dogs take a jump through his hands.