oming of that time. In all available open spaces,
such as vacant lots abutting upon the sidewalks and the junctions of
cross streets, booths and tents and canvas-walled arenas had been set
up. Boys of assorted sizes and colors hung in expectant clumps about
marquees and show fronts. Also a numerous assemblage of adults of the
resident leisure class, a majority of these being members of Red Hoss'
own race, moved back and forth through the line of fairings, inspired by
the prospect of seeing something interesting without having to pay for
it.

Red Hoss forgot temporarily the more-or-less indefinite purpose which
had brought him hither. He joined a cluster of watchful persons who
hopefully had collected before the scrolled and ornamented wooden
entrance of a tarpaulin structure larger than any of the rest. From
beneath the red-and-gold portico of this edifice there issued a blocky
man in a checkered suit, with a hard hat draped precariously over one
ear and with a magnificent jewel gleaming out of the bosom of a
collarless shirt. All things about this man stamped him as one having
authority over the housed mysteries roundabout. Visibly he rayed that
aura of proprietorship common to some monarchs and to practically all
owners of traveling caravansaries. Seeing him, Red Hoss promptly
detached himself from the group he had just joined, and advanced, having
it in mind to seek speech with this superior-appearing personage. The
white man beat him to it.

"Say, boy, that's right, keep a-coming," he called. His experienced eye
appraised Red Hoss' muscular proportions. "Do you want a job?"

"Whut kinder job, boss?"

"Best job you ever had in your life," declared the white man. "You get
fourteen a week and cakes. Get me? Fourteen dollars just as regular as
Saturday night comes, and your scoffing free--all the chow you can eat
thrown in. Then you hear the band play absolutely free of charge, and
you see the big show six times a day without having to pay for it, and
you travel round and see the country. Don't that sound good to you? Oh,
yes, there's one thing else!" He dangled a yet more alluring temptation.
"And you wear a red coat with brass buttons on it and a cap with a plume
in it."

"Sho' does sound good," said Red Hoss, warming. "Whut else I got to do,
cunnel?"

"Oh, just odd jobs round this pitch here--this animal show."

"Hole on, please, boss! I don't have no truck wid elephints, does I?"

"Nope. The elephants are