"Why, my father was the 'Wild Hunter of the Plains.' Didn't you ever see
or hear of him?" said Ben, as if surprised at her ignorance.

"Bless your heart, child, I haven't been to a circus this ten years, and
I'm sure I don't remember what or who I saw then," answered Mrs. Moss,
amused, yet touched by the son's evident admiration for his father.

"Didn't you see him?" demanded Ben, turning to the little girls.

"We saw Indians and tumbling men, and the Bounding Brothers of Borneo,
and a clown and monkeys, and a little mite of a pony with blue eyes. Was
he any of them?" answered Betty, innocently.

"Pooh! he didn't belong to that lot. He always rode two, four, six,
eight horses to oncet, and I used to ride with him till I got too big.
My father was A No. 1, and didn't do any thing but break horses and ride
'em," said Ben, with as much pride as if his parent had been a
President.

"Is he dead?" asked Mrs. Moss.

"I don't know. Wish I did," -- and poor Ben gave a gulp as if something
rose in his throat and choked him.

"Tell us all about it, dear, and may be we can find out where he is,"
said Mrs. Moss, leaning forward to pat the shiny dark head that was
suddenly bent over the dog.

"Yes, ma'am. I will, thank y'," and with an effort the boy steadied his