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Circus: their feet kept time instinctively to the march the band was playing. The fences were lined with small boys: buggies discharged their eager passengers. Further up the road a tent-hand rang a large bell incessantly, shouting, "This way to the Circus!" It seemed to Hugh a most unnecessary proceeding—"As if everybody didn't know!" he muttered.

He had begun to fear that Jeff had forgotten him when he saw him, beckoning. Hugh wormed his way, eel-like, through the people, and they passed the man who was taking the tickets; he seemed unaware of Hugh's existence as he pressed close to Jeff.

"Now you're right. The Boss is in the horse-tent. You keep among those boys ahead and get well back in the cheap seats—high up. You'11 see well enough from anywhere. Cut back to the sleeping-tent when the crowd comes out."

Hugh gave him a grateful look, to which Jeff responded with a faint grin. He turned away, and the boy was lost among the jostling crowd. They scrambled up to the high, bare planks, where Hugh found himself between a fat boy and a lean bushman—he feit that his small body would be screened between them. Big Dan would never espy him up here.

Flares sprang up round the ring. The music outside ceased, and in a few moments the bandsmen filed into their box and again began to play. The music was soft now; scarcely heard over the chattering of the crowd. It was a good house: Big Dan's face was serene as he came

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