reakfast in the mess
car on the sidin', strollin' out to the grounds and watchin' the pegs
sunk, drivin' around town to take a glance at the paper display, formin'
on for the parade, sizin' up the sidewalk crowds, and a couple of hours
later seein' 'em collectin' from all sides around the big top; then at
night, when you've had two big houses, to check up the receipts and
figure out how much you are to the good. Say, don't make any mistake,
that's livin'! It ain't layin' back easy and havin' things handed you on
a platter: it's goin' out after what you want, your jaw set and your
shoulders braced, and bringin' home the bacon."

Cuyler, he's still listenin' sort of amused; but he's inspectin' this
crude specimen in front of him with a little more int'rest. He shakes
his head though.

"I've no doubt the life is all you describe," says he. "However, it is
not for me."

"Why not?" demands Hunk. "Didn't I just hear you tellin' how you was
travelin' with a bunch of dead ones? Ain't stuck on it, are you? And the
answer is, Come out of your trance. I take it you ain't anybody special
where you are now; just one of the cogs. Buy in with me, and I'll make
you the main belt. That's right! Say, I'll tell you what! We'll feature
you on the four-sheets--De Kay & Co.'s Grand Australian Hippodrome. Your
picture in a wreath of roses,--no, a horseshoe's better,--and we'll play
up the show as a refined, educatin', moral exhibition. They'll believe
it when they see you. You'll be the big noise, the man in front. You'll
hear 'em passin' the tip along the curb as the parade swings by, 'That's
him--Mr. De Kay!' And you'll be the one to receive the Mayor and his
wife and show 'em to their arena box. Every day a new Mayor in a new
town. And you'll know 'em all, and they'll know you. What! That'll be
bein' somebody, eh?"

He'd stepped up, right in front of Cuyler, talkin' free and easy, as one
man to another. But then he always was that way. Not fresh, you know,
nor cocky; but just as if he was as good as anybody, and allowed
everybody was as good as him. He's lookin' Mr. De Kay straight in
between the eyes, good-natured but earnest, and all of a sudden he
reaches out a big paw and slaps him folksy on the shoulder.

"Well, Brother," says he, "how about it?"

I don't know how it struck J. Bayard Steele, but as for me, right then
and there I got wise to the fact that, in spite of the ear tufts and
low-brow manners, Hunk Burley, man for man,