"Yes."

"By whom?"

"I don't know. That's all the information we can get."

"Seen any other showmen about town this morning?"

"No; not any that I know, nor any with paper and brush under
his arm."

"H-m-m-m," mused the showman. "That's queer. It can't be that
the young man across the way has got the start of us. No; that
is not possible. He is too green for that. Have his men gone
out on the country routes yet, or are they still asleep?"

"I don't know. Nobody has seen a living soul around that car
this morning, so far as I know."

"I'll go over town and do a little squaring on my own hook.
I'll soon find out who has been heading us off, if anyone has."

The manager hurried off with his assistant, but even he was
unable to get any information.

He was baffled and perplexed. He did not understand it.
Tactics entirely new had been sprung on him. He was an expert
in the old methods of the game, but these were different.