"Well, I'm glad for my outfit," Big Dan said. "It's a real good camp for a tired crowd to spend Sunday in. We needn't move on until ten o'clock to-morrow: Coinbar's only good for a night performance, and we can get there in five hours. So your boy can get acquainted with us. He's got sense enough not to try any tricks with the animals, hasn't he?"
"Oh, yes. Hugh isn't a fooi."
"Doesn't look like one. But it 'ud fair astonish you to see how we've got to watch round for the youngsters in most of the townships. They hang round the horses and worry 'em no end. It doesn't seem to occur to 'em that a Circus horse wants rest an' peace when he's out of the ring, if he's to do his turn without any nerves; they get queer and nervy enough, most of 'em. It's an unnatural life for a horse—lights and excited crowds and the menagerie always handy. They don't like the cats. And always being tied up. It's a real holiday to a Circus horse not to be tied to anything."
"Well, you can let any of them loose in the orchard."
"What about your fruit trees?"
"They can't hurt them. The apples are no good and most of the trees are only fit to be chopped down and burned. It's a worthless hole; it has ruined me, so it might as well give your horses a good day if you care to turn them into it. I'll put my old screw into the yard, in case they don't agree; you can't afford to risk one of yours getting a kick."
"That's so. Well, I take it real kind of you, Mr. Rus-