e, or rather sank, to absolute misery. Like
most strong men, Derrick had the heart of a woman towards anyone in pain
or trouble. There was no doctor; the so-called stewards were quite
unable to cope with the well-nigh general suffering, and Derrick, in
some marvellous way, found time to bear a hand. There is no doubt that,
in any case, he would have been popular; but in the present
circumstances he stepped at once into the position of first friend with
the men, and became a hero and a little tin god in the regard of the
women; and as to the children--for there were three or four in the
company, young acrobats and riders--they watched for his coming, and
clung to him and adored him with their pathetic eyes, as if their
present and future safety and happiness were dependent on him. Often, in
the middle of the night, he would be awakened by the wail of a child,
and with eyes still half closed, and his mind only half awake, would
make his way to it, give it a drink, and sometimes fall asleep with the
poor little thing nestled up against him. To them he was no longer "Mr.
Green," but "Syd," or "Dear Syddie," and they fought for a word and
schemed for a smile from him.

Among the women were some who were quite young. Many of them were
pretty, and not a few of them, naturally enough, fell in love with the
good-looking young man who befriended them. Like the children, but with
a different kind of ardour, they waited for his coming, and laid
feminine snares for him. Two girls, to particularize, thought of little
else than Sydney Green as they lay in their bunks, recovering from that
horrible malady at which we all laugh, and all quail. One was a fair
girl, named Alice Merton. She was one of the riders, and was extremely
pretty, with blue eyes and a complexion like cream and roses. She was
very slight and dainty, and looked fragile; but she was a very good
equestrienne, and when on a horse displayed extraordinary nerve.

The other girl--her name was Isabel Devigne, a stage name, no doubt--was
tall, dark-eyed, with the regular features and blue-black hair of a
Spaniard. She also was a rider; she had been in the business--pardon!
profession--since she could walk, and her experiences of life were many
and peculiar. Perhaps because of their contrasting characteristics, she
and Alice Merton had been drawn towards each other, and were fast
friends. They occupied opposite bunks, walked and talked together, and
were both in love with Sy