gentleman! Wish I could do something." She endeavored to console herself by making the beds anew, remarking that they looked as if a cyclone had made 'em.
Hugh knew nothing of this. With Nita always at his side he was wandering among the folk of the Circus. They were kindly people in the main: they talked to him and told him stories of the ring and of the life of the roads— "tenting," they called it. Hugh hung on their words. Pazo, the tamer, took him to see his "cats," and played with them through the bars. The lionesses rolled in the straw, making soft little dabs at the Spaniard's hand, and letting him pull their ears. But the big lion would have nothing to do with him: he stared past him in the fashion Hugh found so disconcerting. Pazo laughed, snapping his fingers at him.
"Today 'e think. Why not? Today is Sunday for 'im too. 'E 'ave long thoughts, of 'is country, per'aps. Like me: I think of Spain an' the sunshine—better than your hard Australian sun. Tomorrow we do our tricks, 'im an' I."
"Does he like you?" Hugh asked.
"I think 'e 'ate me. But 'e do 'is tricks, for all that. Well, we will leave 'im to 'is think." He strolied off, laughing. Hugh decided that he was rather like his "cats."
When there seemed no more stories to be told him, and the Circus people had strolled away into the bush or up the creek, or had gone to sleep again, Nita demanded a new amusement.