but to Phil Forrest there had been nothing of humor in it. The
sight of his uncle brought back too many unhappy memories.

The lad soon forgot his depression, however, in the rapid changes
that followed each other in quick succession as on a moving-
picture film.

Reaching the end of the village street the procession was obliged
to turn and retrace its steps over the same ground until it
reached the business part of the town, where it would turn off
and pass through some of the side streets.

Now there were two lines, moving in opposite directions. This
was of interest to Phil, enabling him, as it did, to get a good
look at the other members of the troupe. Mr. Sparling was riding
ahead in a carriage drawn by four splendid white horses, driven
by a coachman resplendent in livery and gold lace, while the
bobbing plumes on the heads of the horses added to the
impressiveness of the picture.

"I'd give anything in the world to be able to ride in a carriage
like that," decided Phil. "Maybe someday I shall. We'll see."

Now came the elephants, lumbering along on velvet feet. On the
second one there crouched a figure that somehow seemed strangely
familiar to Phil Forrest. The figure was made up to represent a
huge frog.

A peculiar gesture of one of the frog's legs revealed the
identity of the figure beneath the mask.