By the time Teddy and Phil reached the circus grounds several
wagons were already there. Shouts sprang up from all parts of
the field, while half a dozen men began measuring off the ground
in the dim morning light, locating the best places in which to
pitch the tents. Here and there they would drive in a stake, on
one of which they tied a piece of newspaper.

"Wonder what that's for," thought Phil aloud.

"Hey, what's the paper tied on the peg for?" shouted Teddy to a
passing showman.

"That's the front door, sonny."

"Funniest looking front door I ever saw," grunted Teddy.

"He means that's the place where the people enter and leave their
tickets."

"Oh, yes. That's what they call the 'Main Entrance,'" nodded
Teddy. "I've seen it, but I don't usually go in that way."

With the early dawn figures began emerging from several of the
wagons. They were a sleepy looking lot, and for a time stood
about in various attitudes, yawning, stretching their arms and
rubbing their eyes.

"Hey, boy, what town is this?" questioned a red-haired youth,
dragging himself toward the two lads.