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to attention as Hugh came in. The ring ceased to exist for him; his eyes did not leave the boy's face, searching it hungrily. He leaned forward, clenching his hands, when Hugh's moment came and Joey carried the fighting form into the ring.

Joey was in great humor. All that he most wanted had come true: that he was to be spared Toby forever was in itself enough to rejoice him—and now he had his chance to make up for the disaster of last night, to show the crowd what a clown could do when he had not a log to play with! His high spirits were infectious; and Hugh was already bubbling over with excitement. They had the thrill, the spur, that come from laughter and applause —the house was shouting from the first moment. The roar of joy that went up when Hugh escaped from his giant captor keyed them to their highest point.

The man in the cheap seats watched breathlessly— the one person in the audience who neither shouted nor laughed. The turn went, in the Circus phrase, "with a bang." It was so fresh, so happy: the ridiculous towering figure, a melancholy baby mammoth, striving to get the better of the joyous urchin who danced before him, chaffing him, slipping through his legs, eluding him just when capture seemed certain. Never had it been so completely a game to Hugh. He forgot the grinning ring hands, the Boss, the crowd that grew more delighted each moment. There was no one there but himself and Joey—and they were having a lark.

The crowd grew tense as he darted up to Ram Singh:

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