who had often been to Sydney to see famous circuses. Peterson's was on its mettle. Turn after turn went with a crisp freshness. Big Dan was beaming. Not for weeks had the Circus had such a house. Other towns would hear of it when the visitors went home: he could not have wished a better advertisement.
In the early part of the program the clowning was supplied by Joey and Jimmy. Toby, the dwarf, was reserved to add fun to the second half, when his work was chiefly done by bullying Joey, whose make-up as a baby was rendered more ridiculous by his huge size and the contrast with the midget who pestered him.
Like most dwarf performers Toby was difficult to handle. His conceit was out of all proportion to his stature, and his bad temper made him anything but a pleasant partner. It was hard to keep him from drinking: only his value as an attraction had saved him from dismissal many times. Crowe himself was usually his watchdog before a performance to see that he was fit for the ring.
This evening, however, Toby had given Crowe the slip. There was a hotel a hundred yards from the pitch; he had found it crowded with Show visitors, hugely interested in the dwarf and only too anxious to treat him. The result was evident to Big Dan from the moment he came into the ring. He watched him uneasily as he ambled forward.
The crowd suspected nothing. Every silly movement of the manikin meant only part of the fun, and Joey