stop.

"Don't care a bit," said Bab, swinging on one of the ropes with a
happy-go-lucky air, for her spirits were not extinguished yet, and
she was bound to enjoy this exciting holiday to the very end. "I like
circuses so much! I wish I lived here all the time, and slept in a
wagon, as you did, and had these dear little colties to play with."

"It wouldn't be fun if you didn't have any folks to take care of you,"
began Ben, thoughtfully looking about the familiar place where the men
were now feeding the animals, setting their refreshment tables, or
lounging on the hay to get such rest as they could before the evening
entertainment. Suddenly he started, gave a long look, then turned to
Bab, and thrusting Sancho's strap into her hand, said, hastily: "I see
a fellow I used to know. May be he can tell me something about father.
Don't you stir till I come back."

Then he was off like a shot, and Bab saw him run after a man with a
bucket who had been watering the zebra. Sancho tried to follow, but
was checked with an impatient:

"No, you can't go! What a plague you are, tagging around when people
don't want you."

Sancho might have answered, "So are you," but, being a gentlemanly
dog, he sat down with a resigned expression to watch the little colts,
who were now awake and seemed ready for a game of bo-peep behind their
mammas. Bab enjoyed their funny little frisks so much that she tied
the wearisome strap to a post and crept under the rope to pet the tiny
mouse-colored one who came and talked to her with baby whinneys and