made his way to the tent. It was all in darkness. He looked in half-fearfully, hearing no sound; decided that he would wait for Jeff. The Big Top was almost empty now: watching it across the pitch he saw the last stragglers emerge, and in a few moments the lights were extinguished, only a glimmer remaining in the horse-tent, and in the smaller one that was used for an office, where Big Dan and Crowe were now counting the evening's takings.
Hugh began to realize that he was very tired. He looked back over the long day—what an age it seemed since he had waked up that morning and found Father's letter! He wondered where was Father now? what was he doing? With the thought came the knowledge of his own loneliness. He belonged to nobody. And suddenly he was only a very little boy, and afraid.
He sat down on the grass, his mind full of anxious questions. Suppose Big Dan did not keep him? Suppose the police got him, which could mean only a kind of prison, how would Father ever find him again? .Would the police let him go, if Father did come?
They were dreadful questions, for a small boy alone in the darkness. But out of the darkness help came. A quick footfall, a woman's form—and he sprang up to meet Mrs. Dan.
"Any one there?" she called. "Oh—it's you, Hugh. Whatever are you doing?"
"I was . . . waiting for Jeff."
She heard the break in his voice, and pitied him. Her