only one of those, but it was the final touch of joy. He stood with Nita and her father, watching the delight of the horses at finding themselves free. Many were rolling: Merrylegs struggled to his feet after a prolonged roll, his shining coat matted with dust and fallen leaves, and trotted down the hill to the water-hole, wading in knee-deep beside a bay mare who greeted him with a whinny that plainly said, "What a day we're having!" The piebalds were exchanging notes over the yard fence with Nugget, who was stirred out of his usual calm to utter loud neighs of greeting to the newcomers. All over the orchard wandered the Circus horses, brushing under the boughs, sometimes stretching up to nibble the stunted apples: all free, all happy.
"Jolly good sight!" said Big Dan, looking as satisfied as they. "I think I'll put a rope round the gate, though, Hugh: some of our lot are cunning enough to open any ordinary catch. Then I'll have a yarn to your Dad about this wonderful Tinker of yours. He might ride over with me after dinner to see the man who bought him."
The Circus people were waking up. At the mess-wagon the cook was busy over his stove: savory smells began to drift towards the house. A cauldron of potatoes was bubbling over a fire on the ground. Some of the women cooked in the caravans, like Mrs. Dan; but most of the performers, as well as all the tent-men and grooms, drew their rations from the wagon. The "stars" were beginning to appear; Nita pointed them out to the awe-struck Hugh. There was first Mrs. Brown, the "high-school"