"All right, let him be," said Chris in disgust. "We ain't got time to
wake him. We'll miss the unloadin' if we do."

So Jerry and Chris tiptoed carefully downstairs, for they knew Mrs.
Mullarkey had gone back to bed, and ran through the dim light of dawn to
the railway station.

The circus train was in and the unloading had already begun. Nearly all
the small boys in town seemed to be perched on fences, roofs, and in
trees, watching the proceedings. The circus men were tired and cross and
made the children keep out of the way.

Jerry was dreadfully excited and exhilarated upon seeing four elephants
on the opposite side of the train, and his delight knew no bounds when
one of them was hitched to a heavy circus wagon on a car and pulled it
down a board incline to the road. The funny, awkward animal walked
right along as though the wagon were as light as a feather. Many of the
boys complained because the sides of the wagons in which the wild
animals were kept were closed, but not so Jerry. As long as he could
feast his eyes on the elephants he was content. He had but a passing
glance for the humpbacked camels and the two long-necked giraffes until
after the elephants had been taken away.

When the train had been unloaded and the last wagons were hauled away,
the troop of small boys--and many older ones and grown men as
well--followed them out to the circus ground.

Already one big tent and several smaller ones had been erected and the
elephants and the other animals were not to be seen. There was a