Barbour Ralph Henry
Four Afoot: Being the Adventures of the Big Four on the Highway

CHAPTER IX
SHOWS THEM BOTH HUNGRY AND SATISFIED

It was a very subdued quartet that took the road to Clearwater, the nearest village, although, after they had walked along in silence for a few hundred yards, Dan’s face began to clear and the corners of his mouth stole upward as he glanced at his companions. I don’t think that Barry meant to seem heartless or unsympathetic, but his conduct would have looked, to one unacquainted with his real nature, decidedly callous. He chased birds and squirrels, tried to climb trees, dug for mice, and barked and scampered just as though there was no such thing as misfortune in all the world. And only Dan, I think, understood and sympathized with him.

They walked rapidly and before long reached Clearwater. In spite of the fact that the map made it appear to be quite a village, Clearwater proved to be merely a collection of some half dozen houses surrounding the junction of two roads. There was neither store nor hotel there. They asked information at the first house they came to. To find an officer, they were told, it would be necessary to go on to Millford, two miles beyond, although if they liked they could telephone there. Bob thanked the man and was conducted to the telephone. In a few minutes he had supplied the officers at Millford with all the information possible and had described the stolen property. He promised also to see the officers when he reached Millford. After that there was nothing to do but keep on for that town.

“We’ll find a telegraph office there,” said Bob, “and Dan can wire his father for some money. Then we’ll go to a hotel, tell them how we’re fixed, and get them to trust us until the money comes.”

As no one had a better one to offer, that plan was adopted. But it was weary work, that last two miles. They were all extremely hungry; indeed, Tom looked so famished that the others almost expected to see him expire before their eyes. Nelson became temporarily unbalanced, if Dan is to be believed, and muttered incoherent things about roast beef and mashed potatoes. It was three o’clock and after when they at last wandered into Millford. It was a tiny village, but there were stores there, a telegraph office, and a hotel. They came to the telegraph office first, and so they went in and Dan wrote his telegram.

“Money stolen. Please wire fifty dollars this office. All well. Dan.”

That was the message, and, as Bob couldn’t suggest any improvements, it was handed to the operator. The latter counted the words.

“Twenty-five cents,” he said.

“Send collect, please,” said Dan.

“What’s your address?”

“We haven’t any yet. We’re going to the hotel.”

“Hotel’s closed; closed first of the month.”

Dan looked at Bob, and Bob looked at Dan; and then they looked at Nelson and Tom.

“Closed!” muttered Dan finally.

“Is there a boarding house here we can go to?” asked Bob.

“I don’t believe so; never heard of any,” answered the operator.

“Well – you’ll send that message, won’t you?” asked Dan anxiously. The operator hesitated.

“It’s against the rules,” he objected. “If you lived here I might.”

“It will be all right,” said Dan. “It’s to my father, and that’s his address there. We’ve lost every cent of our money, and I don’t know how we’re going to get any more unless that message reaches him.”

“Well – all right. I guess I can send it for you. You guarantee charges, do you?”

“Yes,” said Dan. “And we’ll come around in the morning for the answer. I’m awfully much obliged.”

“Where is the nearest place we could get lodgings and something to eat?” asked Bob.

“I don’t believe there’s a place nearer than Port Adams, and that’s about four miles from here. There’s a hotel there.”

“Gosh!” muttered Tom.

They thanked the operator again and went out. Then began a search for a boarding place that lasted for half an hour. They heard of one lady who had a room which she sometimes rented and they went to her posthaste. But the room was taken. At the end of the half hour they had seemingly exhausted the possibilities of Millford and were still without shelter.

“How about the police folks?” asked Tom.

“I’d forgotten all about them,” answered Bob. “Maybe they’ll let us sleep in the police station.”

But the police station proved to be only a couple of small rooms in the townhall. They told their story all over again, gave their home addresses, and departed with little hope of ever seeing their property again. For it was evident that the officer suspected them of trying to work a hoax on him, and his promises to look for the robber didn’t sound very enthusiastic. Out on the sidewalk they held a council of war. Bob was for keeping on to Port Adams where the hotel was, but none of the others agreed with him.

“I couldn’t walk four miles farther this afternoon if there was a million dollars in it,” asserted Dan.

And Nelson and Tom echoed the sentiment.

“Besides,” said Nelson, “maybe if we went there they wouldn’t take us at the hotel, and we wouldn’t be any better off.”

“And we’d have to walk back here in the morning to get the money,” added Tom.

“All right,” said Bob. “What will we do, then?”

But no one offered a suggestion. Instead they stood and stared dejectedly across the street. Even Barry appeared to have lost spirit; there was a weary air in the way he held his stump of a tail. On the other side of the street a fence was placarded with highly colored circus posters. “Millford, Sept. 9,” was the legend they bore. That was to-morrow.

“If we get that money,” said Nelson, “let’s stay and see the circus.”

“Never mind about the circus,” said Bob irritably. “What we’ve got to do is to find some place to sleep.”

“And something to eat,” added Tom sadly.

“Let’s sleep outdoors,” said Dan. “It’s going to be fairly warm to-night, I guess.”

“But how about food?” asked Bob.

“Let’s go to a house and ask them to feed us,” suggested Tom. “Tell them we’ll pay in the morning.”

“No, sir,” answered Bob. “That’s begging, and I won’t beg.”

“Nor I,” said Nelson.

“It isn’t begging if you pay for it,” said Tom indignantly.

“Well, it sounds a whole lot like it. I’d rather go without eating.”

“We might draw lots,” said Dan, “and eat one of us.”

“Wish I was home,” muttered Tom.

He thrust his hands deep into his trousers pockets and stared disconsolately across at the circus posters. Then suddenly his face lighted, he uttered a gurgle, and yanked his left hand out of his pocket.

“Lu-lu-lu-look!” he sputtered.

They looked. There in Tom’s palm lay a shining half dollar.

“Where’d you get it?” they cried.

“Lu-lu-left pocket. I pu-pu-pu-put it there du-du-day before yu-yu-yu-yesterday and forgot all abub-ub-ub – all about it!”

The others searched their own pockets frantically, but were not so lucky.

“Say, that’s great!” cried Nelson.

“You bet!” said Dan. “Are you – are you sure it’s good?”

“Course it’s good!” said Tom.

“Gee! Doesn’t half a dollar look big when you’re starving?” said Dan softly. It was passed around from one to another, all examining it as though it were a quite unusual object. Bob sighed as it left his hand.

“It certainly looks good to me,” he muttered.

“Now, what’ll we do with it?” asked Tom. “I don’t suppose anyone will give us four suppers for half a dollar.”

“We might get two for that price,” suggested Dan. “Two of us could get supper and bring something out to the others.”

“Well, don’t let Tom go,” laughed Nelson.

“If only there was some sort of a restaurant in this idiotic place!” sighed Bob.

“I tell you!” cried Dan. “We’ll go to a store and buy some grub, pitch a camp, and cook it ourselves! We can get a lot for fifty cents!”

“Good scheme!” said Bob.

“Fine!” said Nelson.

“Swell!” agreed Tom. “Come on!”

They sought the main street and the stores. At a market they purchased a pound of round steak for twenty-five cents, and, in response to Dan’s hints, the man threw in a good-sized bone for Barry. Farther on they found a grocery store and spent five cents for a loaf of bread, seven cents for a quarter of a pound of butter, six cents for a quart of milk – the groceryman good-naturedly supplying a bottle for it – and five cents for half a dozen cookies. Thus armed they sought a place to pitch their camp. Five minutes of walking took them out of the village, and they soon espied a knoll which promised a suitable spot. They crossed a field, climbed the knoll, and found an ideal location on the western side of it. The trees were sparse, but, there was enough undergrowth here and there to serve as wind-break during the night. The four were once more themselves and in the highest spirits. Bob took command, and under his direction the others were set to finding fuel, whittling sticks for forks, and building the fireplace. By five o’clock the flames were sending a column of purple smoke up into the still evening air, and the slice of steak, cut into four portions, was sizzling over the fire on as many pointed sticks. And Barry was busy with his bone. In short, life was worth living again.

Now, if you have never spent the day out of doors and supped at night in the open with the wood smoke floating about you, you can have no very definite idea of how good that meal tasted to the Four. The steak was done to a turn, brown and crisp outside, burned a little about the edges as every camper’s steak should be, and inside slightly pink and so full of juice that a napkin, had one happened along, would have done a land-office business! And then the bread! Well, I suppose it was just an ordinary loaf, but – it didn’t taste so! There was a beautiful golden-brown crust all over the outside that broke with a brittle and appetizing sound. And under the crust was the whitest, softest, freshest, sweetest bread that ever made the thought of butter a sacrilege. I don’t mean by that that the butter wasn’t used; it was, lavishly as long as it lasted; after it was gone it was never missed. The cookies, too, and the milk, ridiculously rich milk it was, were simply marvelous. Really, it was astonishing how much better Long Island food was than any other! And Barry, flat on the ground, both paws on the big bone and teeth busy, grunted accordantly.

Before them as they sat in a semicircle about the little fire the hill sloped down to a broad pasture, here and there overgrown with bushes and dotted at intervals with low trees. Beyond the pasture was a swamp closed in on its farther side by a line of woods looking dark against the saffron evening sky. To their right, perhaps a quarter of a mile distant, was a farmhouse and buildings, and from the house a thin filament of blue smoke arose. Now and then a voice reached them; sometimes a dog barked afar off and Barry lifted his head and listened; once the chug-chug of an automobile, speeding along the road behind them, disturbed the silence.

Conversation was fitful at the best during that meal, for it must be remembered that they had had no lunch and had done a day’s march. And after the last morsel had disappeared no one complained of being uncomfortably full. But they had fared well and there were no complaints.

“I don’t know,” said Bob, “but what we’d ought to have kept something for the morning.”

“Oh, never mind the morning,” answered Dan. “We’ll have plenty of money then and we’ll breakfast in state.”

They fed the fire to keep it alive for the sake of its cozy glow and then leaned back on their elbows and talked. Barry abandoned his bone with a satisfied sigh and curled himself up by Dan’s side. Presently the sunlight faded and a crescent moon glowed brightly behind the knoll. The chill of evening began to make itself felt, and now they built up the fire for more practical purposes and edged themselves nearer. Before it got quite dark they busied themselves preparing for the night. They cut evergreen branches and piled them high in the lee of a clump of bushes. The packs were opened and each fellow donned as much of the extra clothing as was possible, the ponchos serving as blankets. Toward half-past eight they settled themselves for the night, burrowing deep into the fragrant branches and lying as close together as was compatible with comfort. The little fire danced and gleamed, the crickets sang loudly from all sides, and the slender silver moon sailed overhead in a purple sky.

Then Tom fell off to sleep, and the crickets’ song was quickly drowned.

CHAPTER X
IN WHICH NELSON SEES STRANGE VISIONS

Although it had been fairly mild when they went to sleep, by early morning the chill had crept under the rubber blankets, and the four sleepers twisted and turned uneasily, conscious of the cold and yet too sleepy to awake. Nelson was on the outside and therefore less protected than the others. At length, unable to endure it any longer, he sat up and looked about him with heavy eyes. It was beginning to get light, and the crescent moon, far down in the sky, was becoming dim. The other three slept on. Barry raised his head above Dan’s shoulder and glanced gravely across at Nelson. Then, with a sigh, he curled up again and went back to sleep.

Nelson’s legs were stiff and aching, and after a moment of indecision he got up and began to walk around. That warmed him up considerably, and presently he paused and looked about him over the sleeping world. Back of the knoll a rosy tinge was creeping upward. The farmhouse showed no signs of life as yet and the chimney sent no smoke into the gray sky. And everything was very still.

And then, of a sudden, from somewhere came a strange sound, a sound that was utterly at variance with the calm hush of early morning. Nelson puzzled over it for several moments. It was a sound made up of many lesser sounds, the sound of moving wheels, of creaking wagons, of heavy footfalls, of rattling harness, of clanking metal, and, so Nelson thought, of voices. He looked about him in bewilderment. At the farmhouse not a sign of life showed, nor did the sound seem to come from that direction. Nelson turned toward the summit of the little knoll and listened intently. Then he hurried to the top and – rubbed his eyes in amazement at what he saw. For a moment he thought that he was still asleep and dreaming.

Across the field which lay between him and the road lumbered a huge shape, black against the lightening sky. For a second it was formless, gigantic in that half-light. Then Nelson’s eyes served him better, and he saw that the approaching object was an elephant and that beside it walked a man. Yet surely he was dreaming! What could an elephant be doing in the middle of that country field at five o’clock in the morning? And then, as he looked again toward the road, he found the explanation. For now, coming from the direction of the town, emerging from behind the trees which hid the road there and turning into the field, came a procession of wagons and horses and – yes, surely that strange-looking thing was a camel! It was all clear enough now. The circus had arrived!

Several sections of the fence had been removed, and one by one, with urging and coaxing, the big boxlike wagons were being driven into the field. By this time the elephant had reached the end of his journey, and the attendant had brought him to a stop some fifty yards away from where Nelson stood and was filling and lighting his pipe. The wagons lumbered, creaking and jolting, across the grass and were drawn up in two rows. Then other wagons appeared, flat and low these, and made straight for the middle of the field. And after that so many things happened at once and with such amazing celerity that Nelson could only stand there on the knoll and stare.

As if by magic a small tent arose at the end of the twin lines of wagons. Dozens of men hurried hither and thither in squads, carrying canvas, ropes, poles, with never a sign of confusion. The camel, its ridiculous head moving from side to side superciliously, was driven over to where the elephant stood. Men with stakes and mallets followed, and in a minute the two animals were tethered. By that time the larger tent was lying stretched over the ground ready for raising. Fires gleamed near the smaller tent, and there came a rattling of pots and pans. Still another heap of canvas was dragged from a wagon and stretched out. Unconsciously Nelson had moved down the hill. The elephant watched him expectantly with his little eyes as he passed. Nelson kept on until he stood just outside the scene of operations. They were raising the big tent now. One end of it suddenly arose into air; men shouted and hurried; ropes were hauled and tightened, slackened and made fast; the great mallets rose and fell with resounding blows; inch by inch, foot by foot, the great gleaming canvas house took form. From somewhere came an appealing odor of coffee and frying bacon, and Nelson suddenly discovered that he was very hungry. He walked toward the fires.

Those who passed him looked at him curiously but offered no word of remonstrance. The sun came up behind the distant hills with a leap and glittered wanly on the tarnished gold carvings of the chariots and on the pots and pans of the busy cooks. There were two of these, and a youth of about sixteen was acting as helper. As Nelson approached, the youth disappeared into the tent with a basket of tin plates and cups. The flaps were up and Nelson could see a long table formed of planks in sections resting on wooden trestles. The boy was setting the table for breakfast. The stoves, of which there were two, were queer round cylinders of sheet iron which were fed with wood through doors in front. On one a great copper caldron was already beginning to throw off steam. On the other an immense frying pan was filled with bacon, which, as fast as it was done, was removed to other pans upon a near-by trestle. A wagon was backed up close at hand, and as they worked, the cooks went to it for salt and pepper and other ingredients, which they took from drawers and cupboards with which the rear of the wagon was fitted. It was all very astonishing and interesting to Nelson, and he looked and looked until presently one of the cooks saw him and spoke.

“Hello,” he said.

“Good morning,” answered Nelson.

“You’re up early,” continued the other, removing the cover from the caldron for an instant and slamming it back into place. He was a thickset man with a humorous, kindly face and the largest hands Nelson thought he had ever seen.

“Not as early as you,” said Nelson smilingly.

“No, that’s so. It’s our business, you see. Had your breakfast?”

“Not yet.”

“Have a cup of coffee, then?”

Nelson hesitated.

“Got plenty of it?”

“About four gallons,” was the answer. “Here, it’ll warm you up. Toss me a cup, Joe.”

The other cook obeyed without taking his attention from the sizzling bacon, and Nelson’s friend held it under a faucet at the bottom of the caldron.

“There you are. Now you want some sugar. We haven’t got the milk out yet. O Jerry! Bring a spoon and some sugar.”

“Thank you,” said Nelson as he accepted the tin cup of steaming coffee. “It smells mighty good.”

“Well, it ain’t the best in the world,” answered the cook cheerfully, “but it tastes pretty good on a cold morning. You, Jerry! Oh, here you are. Pass the sugar to the gentleman.”

Nelson turned and for the first time had sight of the boy’s face. The hand which he had stretched forth fell to his side.

“Why! Hello, Jerry Hinkley!” he cried.

“Hello,” responded Jerry with an embarrassed smile. He was quite a different-looking Jerry already. His hair had been cut, the faded overalls and blue gingham shirt had given place to a suit of plain, neat clothes, half-hidden by a long apron, and there was a new expression of self-reliance in the gray eyes. He shook hands with Nelson a bit awkwardly, but looked very glad to see him again.

“What are you doing here, Jerry?” asked Nelson.

“I’m cook’s boy,” was the answer. “I joined the show last Wednesday, the day after I seen you. Have some sugar?”

Nelson helped himself, accepted the proffered tin spoon, and stirred his coffee.

“Do you like it?” he asked. “It must be rather a change from the farm.”

“Yes, I like it first-rate,” said Jerry.

“I don’t like to interrupt the meeting of old friends,” said the cook good-naturedly, “but they’ll be in for breakfast in about ten minutes, Jerry, and if you ain’t ready for ’em they’ll scalp you alive.”

“I better be goin’,” said Jerry. “Glad I seen you again.”

“All right,” answered Nelson. “When can I see you? Are you busy all day?”

“No; ’long about ten o’clock I generally don’t have much to do.”

“Good! I’ll look you up then,” said Nelson. “The other fellows will want to see you too; I’ll bring them along.”

“Will you?” asked Jerry eagerly from the door of the tent. “That’s mighty kind of you. Good-by. I – I’ll look for you.”

“Know Jerry, do you?” asked the cook as he pulled a box of tin cups toward him and began setting them on a trestle. Nelson told of their former meeting, sipping the boiling hot coffee the while.

“Well, Jerry’s a pretty good boy,” said the cook. “Tends to his work and ain’t got no highfalutin’ nonsense about bein’ too good for it. Come around and see us again.”

“Thanks,” said Nelson. “I will. And I’m awfully much obliged for that coffee; it went right to the spot.”

“Knew it would. Have some more? No? Well, so long.”

Nelson turned away and retraced his steps. The coffee had warmed him up, and he wished the others could have some. He stopped one of the canvasmen and asked the time.

“Twenty-five minutes after six,” said the man, consulting a big nickel watch.

Nelson thanked him and went on. But it wouldn’t do to wake up the others yet, for, of course, the telegraph office wouldn’t be open before eight, and they wouldn’t want to wait around without any breakfast. So instead of joining them he turned and looked about him. The big tent was up, and so was the dressing tent alongside. The ticket seller’s box was set up beside the main entrance, and men were stretching a forty-foot length of painted canvas across some upright poles. He walked toward them and watched. When finally in place the canvas advertised the attractions of the side show. There was a highly colored picture of “Princess Zoe, the Marvelous Snake Charmer.” The princess was an extraordinarily beautiful young lady and was depicted standing in a regular chaos of writhing snakes, while two others proved their subjugation by twining themselves caressingly about her arms and neck. Then there was a picture of “Boris, the Wild Man of the Tartary Steppes.” Nelson didn’t find Boris especially attractive. According to the picture he was a squat gentleman with a good deal of hair on his face, a remarkably large mouth, a flat nose pierced by a brass ring, and an expression of extraordinary ferocity. Add to that that he was shown in the act of making his dinner on unappetizing-looking pieces of raw meat, and you will understand Nelson’s lack of enthusiasm. Queen Phyllis, the fortune teller, while not particularly beautiful, was much more pleasing to look upon. The last picture was that of “Zul-Zul, the Celebrated Albino Prima Donna,” singing before the crowned heads of Europe. Having exhausted the fascinations of Zul-Zul, Nelson wandered unchallenged into the main tent and found a squad of men erecting the seats. Even that palled after awhile, and he went out again and walked through the lane formed of the chariots and wagons. The cages were still boarded up, but the legends outside threw some light on the identity of the occupants. “Numidian Lion,” he read; “Asiatic Zebra,” “Black Wolves,” “Royal Bengal Tiger.” Now and then a cage would rock on its springs as its occupant moved about, and sometimes a snarl or a grunt reached his ears. A strip of canvas festooned the big tent on the roadside and bore the inscription in big black letters:

MURRAY AND WIRT’S

MAMMOTH COMBINED SHOWS

AMERICA’S GREATEST CIRCUS

AND HIPPODROME!

At a little after seven, having seen all that was to be seen at present, he returned to the camp. On his way he stopped for a look at the elephant and camel, which were breakfasting on a bale of hay. In broad daylight the elephant was distinctly disappointing. He wasn’t much larger than the camel, as far as height and length went, but there was a good deal more of him. He was secured by a short chain which led from an iron ring around one hind foot to a stake driven in the ground. He ate slowly and thoughtfully, with much unnecessary gesticulation of his trunk. He was sadly deficient in the matter of tusks, for he showed only one, and that one had been broken off about three inches from his mouth and looked much in need of cleaning. Yes, Nelson was disappointed in the elephant. Nor, for that matter, was the camel much more satisfying. He was a dirty, rusty camel with a malicious gleam in his little eyes and a forbidding way of snarling his upper lip back over his discolored teeth.

“Oh, don’t be so grouchy,” muttered Nelson. “I’m not going to swipe any of your old hay.”

When he got back to the knoll he found only Barry fully awake, although Dan showed symptoms of wakefulness, muttering away at a great rate and throwing his arms about. While Nelson watched, the expected happened. One of Dan’s arms descended forcibly on Tom’s nose, and Tom awoke with an indignant snort.

“Hello, Nel,” he muttered. “What time is it?”

“About a quarter after seven, I guess. I can’t tell you exactly, for I seem to have mislaid my watch.”

Tom gave his attention to Dan.

“Here, wake up, you lazy brute!” he cried. “Want to sleep all day?”

He accompanied this remark with a violent tweak of Dan’s nose, and the effect was instantaneous. Dan sat up with a start and sent Barry flying on to Bob.

“Wh-what’s the matter?” he asked, startled.

“Time to get up,” said Tom virtuously.

“That’s right,” agreed Nelson. “Everyone’s eating breakfast.”

“Huh!” said Tom. “Wish I was.”

“Who’s eating breakfast?” asked Bob, rolling over with the struggling terrier in his arms.

“Well, the elephant and the camel, for two,” answered Nelson.

“Elephant and cam – !” ejaculated Dan. “Say, that’s what comes of sleeping in the moonlight. I’ve heard of it before. I wonder if you’re daffy, too, Bob. Are you? Try and say something sensible and let’s see.”

“The moonlight can’t have any effect on you,” said Bob significantly. Dan sighed.

“You too! I feared it! Say, Nelson, how are the pelicans and the white mice getting on? Had their hot chocolate yet?”

“I didn’t see them,” answered Nelson. “But the Numidian lion and the royal Bengal tiger aren’t up yet.”

“You don’t say? Dear, dear, most careless of them! Say, Tommy, how about you? Are you – er – ?” Dan tapped his forehead.

“I will be if I don’t get something to eat pretty soon,” replied Tom dolefully. “How soon does that telegraph office open?”

“Eight, I guess,” said Nelson. “Wonder where we can wash up a bit?”

“How about the farmhouse over there?” suggested Bob.

“All right, I guess. Let’s break camp and go over. By the way, I saw Jerry a little while ago.”

“Jerry who?” asked Tom.

“Jerry Hinkley.”

Dan, who had started to get up, sank back again and viewed Nelson with real concern.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded.

“Why, Jerry Hinkley,” answered Nelson with a laugh. “Haven’t forgotten Jerry, have you?”

Dan shook his head sorrowfully.

“No, but you’d better forget him. Joking aside, Nel, what’s the matter with you?”

“Oh, nothing. Or – well, the fact is, I thought I saw things; elephants and camels and – and circuses, you know. I suppose I must have dreamed it.”

“Well, rather!” said Dan relievedly.

“What was Jerry doing?” asked Bob. “Feeding the elephant peanuts or riding the camel?”

“He was setting the table,” replied Nelson gravely.

“Say, you must have had a corking nightmare!” exclaimed Tom. “I did a little dreaming myself; dreamed I was freezing to death, for one thing; but I didn’t see any menageries.”

“Well, come on, fellows,” said Bob. “Pack up and let’s get a move on. We’ll get them to loan us some water over at the house and then mosey toward town. Gee, I’m beastly hungry! Feel as though I hadn’t had a thing to eat for six weeks.”

“I had a cup of coffee about an hour ago,” said Nelson musingly.

“Say, chuck it, will you?” begged Dan earnestly. “You make me feel creepy, Nel.”

“Was it hot?” asked Tom in far-away tones as he tied up his pack.

“Boiling,” answered Nelson. “It was great. I wished you fellows had been there.”

“Thanks. Where was it?” asked Bob. “In the Sahara desert?”

“No; down at the mess tent.”

“What mess tent? Jerry’s?”

“Well, he was there. That’s where I met him. It was the circus mess tent. The cook gave it to me. It was peachy!”

“Su-say!” cried Tom. “Maybe he isn’t lying, fellows! You know there was to be a circus here to-day!”

“Yes, that’s what made Nel dream of ’em,” said Bob.

But Tom was studying Nelson’s face attentively, and something about his smile made Tom suspect that he was on the right track.

“I’ll bu-bu-bet you it’s su-su-su-so!” cried Tom. “Where is it, Nel?”

“Come on,” said Nelson.

They followed him up to the brow of the hill. Before them lay the tents and the wagons, and, nearer at hand, the elephant and the camel were still quietly eating breakfast. They stared in amazement.

“Well, I’ll be bu-bu-bu-bu – !”

“Of course you will, Tommy,” said Nelson soothingly. “Only don’t explode.”

“ – bu-bu-bu-blowed!” ended Tom triumphantly. “Wouldn’t that cu-cu-cu-craze you?”

Then Nelson had to tell them all about it.