d to the crashing accompaniment of the band, the
seemingly chaotic mass unfolded into a double line as the horses broke
into a sharp gallop around the freshly dug ring.

The first time Calico did the grand entry he felt as though he had been
sucked into a whirlpool and was being carried around by some
irresistible force. So dazed was he by the music, by the hum of human
voices and by the unfamiliar sights, that he forgot to rear and kick. He
could only prance and snort. He went forward because the rider of the
outside horse dragged him along by the bridle rein. Around and around he
circled until he lost all sense of direction, and when he was finally
shunted out through the dressing-tent flaps he was so dizzy he could
scarcely stand.

For a horse accustomed to shy at his own shadow this was heroic
treatment. But it was successful. In a month you could not have startled
Calico with a pound of dynamite. He would placidly munch his oats within
three feet of the spot where a stake-gang swung the heavy sledges in
staccato time. He cared no more for flapping canvas than for the wagging
of a mule's ears. As for noises, when one has associated with a steam
calliope one ceases to mind anything in that line. Old Ajax, it was
true, remained a terror to Calico for weeks, but in the end the horse
lost much of his dread for the ancient pachyderm, although he never felt
wholly comfortable while those wicked little eyes were turned in his
direction. Hereditary instincts, you know, die hard.

During those four months in which the Grand Occidental flitted over the
New England circuit from Kenduskeag, Me., to Bennington, Vt., there came
upon Calico knowledge of many things. The farm-horse to whom Bangor's
market-square had been full of strange sights became, in comparison with
his former self, most sophisticated. He feared no noise save that
sinister whistle made by Broncho Bill's long lash. The roaring sputter
of gasoline flares was no more to him than the sound of a running
brook. He had learned that it was safe to kick a mere canvasman when you
felt like doing so, but that a real artist, such as a tumbler or a
trapeze man, was to be respected, and that the person of the ring-master
was most sacred. Also he acquired the knack of sleeping at odd times,
whenever opportunity offered and under any conditions.

When he had grown thus wise, and when he had ceased to stumble over
guy-ropes and tent-stakes, Calico received promotion. He was