ence, but never had he been within it. Neither had he
worn before a broad pad. By dint of leading and coaxing he was made to
understand that his part of the act was to canter around the ring with
Mlle. Zaretti on his back, where she was to be allowed to go through as
many motions as she pleased.

For a green horse Calico conducted himself with much credit. He did not
stumble. He did not shy at the ring-master's whip. He did not try to
dodge the banners or the hoops after he found how harmless they were.

"Well, if I cut my act perhaps I can manage, but if I break my neck I
hope you'll murder that fool driver," was Mlle. Zaretti's verdict and
petition when the lesson ended.

Mlle. Zaretti's gyrations that afternoon and evening were somewhat tame
when you consider the manner in which she was billed. Calico did his
part with only a few excusable blunders, and she was so pleased that he
got the apples and sugarplums which usually rewarded the grays.

The galled shoulder healed, but the lame leg developed into an incurably
stiff joint. Three nights later Calico, to his great joy, left the
band-chariot team forever, to find himself on the light ticket-wagon and
regularly entered as a ring horse. Nor was this all. When the season
closed Mlle. Zaretti bought Calico at an exorbitant price. He was
shipped to a strange place, where they put him in a box-stall, fed him
with generous regularity and asked him to do absolutely nothing at all.

It was a month before Calico saw his mistress again. He had been taken
into a great barn-like structure which had many sky-lights and windows.
Here was an ideal ring, smooth and springy, with no hidden rocks or soft
spots such as one sometimes finds when on the road. Mlle. Zaretti no
longer wore her spangled pink dress. Instead she appeared in serviceable
knickerbockers and wore wooden-soled slippers on her feet. In the middle
of the ring a man who was turning himself into a human pin-wheel stopped
long enough to shout: "Hello, Kate; signed yet?"

"You bet," said Mlle. Zaretti. "Next spring I go out by rail with a
three topper. I'm going to do the real bareback act, too. No more broad
pads and wagon shows for Katie. Hey, Jim, rig up your Stokes' mechanic."

Jim, a stout man who wore his suspenders outside a blue sweater and
talked huskily, arranged a swinging derrick-arm, the purpose of which,
it developed, was to keep Mlle. Zaretti off the ground whenever she
missed her footing on Calico'