g slowly
overland toward the Spanish frontier, drew up for an hour's rest at
Quimperle. I, however, as usual, prepared to ride forward to select a
proper place for our night encampment, and to procure the necessary
license.

The dusty procession halted in the town square, which was crowded, and
as I turned in my saddle I saw Byram stand up on the red-and-gold
band-wagon and toss an armful of circulars and bills into the throng.

The white bits of paper fluttered wide and disappeared in the sea of
white Breton head-dresses; there was a rhythmic clatter of wooden
shoes, an undulation of snowy coiffes, then a low murmur as the people
slowly read the circulars aloud, their musical monotone accompanying
the strident nasal voice of Byram, who stood on the tarnished
band-wagon shouting his crowd around him.

"Mossoors et madams! Ecooty see voo play! J'ai l'honnoor de vous
presenter le ploo magnifique cirque--" And the invariable reclame
continued to the stereotyped finis; the clown bobbed up behind Byram
and made his usual grimaces, and the band played "The Cork Leg."

The Bretons looked on in solemn astonishment: my comrade, Speed,
languidly stood up on the elephant and informed the people that our
circus was travelling to Lorient to fill a pressing engagement, and if
we disappointed the good people of Lorient a riot would doubtless
result, therefore it was not possible to give any performance before
we reached Lorient--and the admission was only ten sous.

Our clown then picked up the tatters of his threadbare comic speech.
Speed, munching a stale sandwich, came strolling over to where I stood
sponging out my horse's mouth with cool water.

"We'll ride into Paradise in full regalia, I suppose," he observed,
munching away reflectively; "it's the cheapest reclame."

I dashed a bucket of water over my horse's legs. "You'd better look
out for your elephant; those drunken Bretons are irritating him," I
said. "Mahouts are born, not made."

Speed turned; the elephant was squealing and thrusting out a
prehensile trunk among the people. There would be trouble if any fool
gave him tobacco.

"Hi!" cried Speed, "tobah! Let the mem-log alone! Ai! he's snatched
a coiffe! Drop it, Djebe! C'hast buhan! Don't be afraid, mesdames; the
elephant is not ugly! Chomit oll en ho trankilite!"

The elephant appeared to understand the mixture of Hindu, French, and
Breton--or perhaps it was the sight of the steel ankus that Speed
flourishe