"Sure," eagerly nodded the lad addressed. "I got him fixed up, platform,
blanket and all, before school. He's tied up, waiting, at the end of
father's ten-acre lot."

"Yes, and I've got the hoop all ready there, too," chimed in Alf Warren,
another schoolboy.

"See here, fellows," demurred Andy dubiously, "I haven't much heart for
frolic. I'm expelled, you know, and there's Aunt Lavinia--"

"Forget it!" interrupted Ned. "That will all right itself."

Andy consented to accompany the gleeful, expectant throng. They had
arranged the night before to hold an amateur circus exhibition "on their
own hook."

One boy had agreed to provide the "fiery steed" for the occasion. Alf
Warren was to be property man, and donate the blazing hoop.

They soon reached the corner of the ten-acre lot. There, tethered to a
stake and grazing placidly, was a big-boned, patient-looking horse.

Across his back was strapped a small platform made of a cistern cover.
This had been cushioned with a folded buggy robe.

Alf Warren dove excitedly into a clump of bushes. He reappeared
triumphantly holding aloft a big hoop. It was wound round and round with
strips of woolen cloth which exuded an unmistakable and unpleasant odor
of kerosene.