the garment.

He could not therefore pay his fare into the show. Only for an instant,
however, was Andy daunted.

He suddenly realized that he could get more promptly to the manager or
the ringmaster from the rear.

He ran around the big white mountain of canvas till he reached the
performers' tent. Patrolling outside of it was a club-armed watchman.

"Please let me in," said Andy hurriedly. "I want to see the manager,
quick."

"Yes, they all do. G'wan! Games don't go here."

"No, no, I'm not trying to dead-head it," cried Andy. "Please call Mr.
Marco or Miss Starr. They know me--"

"G'wan, I tell you. I'm too old a bird to get caught by chaff.
Get--now."

The watchman struck Andy a sharp rap over the shoulders. Andy was in
desperation. He was started to run around to some other of the minor
tents, when a shifting slit in the canvas gave him a momentary view of
the interior of the big circus tent.

"Oh," cried Andy, wringing his hands, "the very act is on--the Benares
Brothers! I must act at once!"