"You bunk right there, kid," said Marco, stowing Andy behind a pile of
seat planks that lined the side of the canvassed passageway joining the
performers' tent with the main one.

Andy promptly climbed up on top of the heap of boards. The curtain that
separated the two circus compartments was festooned at one side. Just
beyond was the orchestra. Andy could look over their heads and past
them, with a perfect view of the performing ring.

He gave himself up so completely to the enjoyment of the grand privilege
accorded him, that for one engrossing, bewildering hour he seemed in a
dreamland of rare delight.

Everything went smoothly and neatly. The various acts were new, and
cleverly performed.

When it came to Stella Starr's turn, Andy witnessed a second exhibition
of the superstitious folly of these strange circus folk.

The equestrienne sharply halted the man who led her horse forward for a
dash into the ring.

"Back him--instantly," she called out. "Right foot first over the dead
line. I wouldn't start on a left foot _entree_ for the whole day's
proceeds."

The imperious mandate was obeyed, and Andy raptly witnessed some
bareback riding that made his heart quicken and his eyes flash with
pleasure and admiration.