could do, and the whole town is talking about it."

"If you are going to the show you had better be getting ready,"
urged Phil, wishing to change the subject.

"All right, I will. I'll fix your clothes when I get back. Will
you be home to supper?"

"I don't know for sure. If I can I'll be back in time, but
please don't wait for me. Here is your ticket."

The lad hurried to the room the good woman had set aside for him
and quickly made the change of clothing. He was obliged to
change everything he had on, for even his shirt had been torn in
his battle with the broncho. After bathing and putting on the
fresh clothes, Phil hurried from the house, that he might miss
nothing of the show.

The sideshow band was blaring brazenly when he reached the lot.
The space in front of the main entrance was packed with people,
many of whom pointed to him, nodding their heads and directing
the attention of their companions to the lad.

Phil wished he might be able to skulk in by the back door and
thus avoid their attention, but as this was impossible, he pulled
his hat down over his eyes and worked his way slowly toward the
front of the crowd.

Getting near the entrance, he saw Mr. Sparling's assistant. The
latter, chancing to catch sight of Phil, motioned him to crawl