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caught of them. He decided that this exquisite person must have remained hidden in one of the caravans: and then forgot all about her in the roar of joy that greeted Joey, who came solemnly skipping into the ring, using the rider's silver rope; tripping over it at each jump, and finally falling flat at the ringmaster's feet. Toby, the dwarf, came behind him, a ludicrous figure in draggled black coat, the long tails of which swept the ground: his tiny feet encased in boots with toes nine inches long, pink spats lending a note of color that was echoed in a flowing tie. He removed his battered top-hat in an exaggerated gesture, and ordered Big Dan, his voice high and squeaky, to leave the ring at once. The crowd yelled with joy at the fooling that followed: and none yelled louder than little Hugh Russell—no longer a Circus hand, but an excited spectator.

There was no moment of the show that he did not enjoy. The horse work was clever and well-finished, from the troop of rosin-backs to the black and cream "sextet" that went through their drill wearing only plumed scarlet head-dresses. They moved to the changing music, following Big Dan's uplifted hand: trotting, cantering, galloping, wheeling round like one animal; manes and tails flying, eyes alight in the flaring rays of the lamps, hoofs a thunder of hollow sound on the beaten turf. They waltzed to his signal, keeping perfect time: broke into a gallop as the music changed, charged into the center of the ring, and, wheeling, reared up, beating the air with their forelegs, their proud heads tossed high. Then out