"Shucks!"

"I--I have a little friend, who--who, like myself, has no parents
and is crazy over the circus. He wants to be a circus man just
as much as I do. If you had a place--if you could find something
for him to do, I should appreciate it very much."

"Who is he, that youngster with the clown face, who crawled in
under the tent this afternoon?"

Phil laughed outright.

"I presume so. That's the way he usually gets in."

"Where is he now?"

"Seeing the performance, sir."

"Nail him when he comes out. We'll give him all the show he
wants."

With profuse thanks Phil Forrest backed from the tent and walked
rapidly toward the entrance. It seemed to him as if he were
walking on air.

"Let that boy through. He's with the show now," bellowed Mr.
Sparling, poking his head from the doghouse tent.

The gateman nodded.