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"No. Daisy's sold."

"Good luck to Daisy!" said the man. "Well, where's your Dad?"

"He's asleep. Oh—do wait—I'll get him."

He was down from the gate-post in a flash. The man's hand went up, and the red caravan stopped. All along the procession ran the unspoken signal; every weary beast came to a halt. Hugh was shouting as he ran.

"Father! Father! Wake up—there's a Circus!"

John Russell's head appeared at his window.

"What on earth ?"

"Circus!" Hugh panted. "They want to camp—in our field! Oh, do let them, Father!"

"Well, it won't hurt us," Russell said. "Teil them they can, Hugh. I'll come out as soon as I get some clothes on."

"Father says you can!" Hugh was racing back to the gate, shouting as he ran.

"Then he's a good sort," said the man on the black horse, thankfully. "What about water, sonny?"

"Oh, there's a creek. I'll go and let down the slip-rails."

"You wait till I get my Boss," said the man. "He likes to see where he's goin' to camp." He cantered back, along the motionless procession, while Hugh danced with impatience in the gateway.

He had only a few moments to wait. The black horse reappeared, this time with a new rider: a huge man, bare-headed, in shirt and trousers. His head was a tousled black mass: his dark face, with its long black

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