pole. Understand?"

"Not entirely, sir."

"Well, do you want to join out with the Great Sparling Combined
Shows, or don't you?"

"You mean--I join the--the--"

Mr. Sparling was observing him narrowly.

"I said, would you like to join our show?"

"I should like it better than anything else in the world."

"Sign this contract, then," snapped the showman, thrusting a
paper toward Phil Forrest, at the same time dipping a pen in the
ink bottle and handing it to him.

"You will allow me to read it first, will you not?"

"Good! That's the way I like to hear a boy talk. Shows he's got
some sense besides what he's learned in books at some--well,
never mind."

"What--what is this, ten dollars a week?" gasped Phil, scarcely
able to believe his eyes as he looked at the paper.

"That's what the contract says, doesn't it?"