r noise, which caused the poodle to growl and
bang the floor irefully with his tail, as he lay close to his master's
feet, getting acquainted with the new shoes they wore.

"How came you there?" asked Mrs. Moss, rather disturbed at the news.

"Why, my father was the 'Wild Hunter of the Plains.' Didn't you ever
see or hear of him?" said Ben, as if surprised at her ignorance.

"Bless your heart, child, I haven't been to a circus this ten years, and
I'm sure I don't remember what or who I saw then," answered Mrs. Moss,
amused, yet touched by the son's evident admiration for his father.

"Didn't _you_ see him?" demanded Ben, turning to the little girls.

"We saw Indians and tumbling men, and the Bounding Brothers of Borneo,
and a clown and monkeys, and a little mite of a pony with blue eyes. Was
he any of them?" answered Betty, innocently.

"Pooh! he didn't belong to that lot. He always rode two, four, six,
eight horses to oncet, and I used to ride with him till I got too big.
_My_ father was A No. 1, and didn't do anything but break horses and
ride 'em," said Ben, with as much pride as if his parent had been a
President.

"Is he dead?" asked Mrs. Moss.

"I don't know. Wish I did," and poor Ben gave a gulp as if something
rose in his throat and choked him.

"Tell us all about it, dear, and may be we can find out where he is,"
said Ma, leaning forward to pat the shiny dark head that was suddenly
bent over the dog.

"Yes, ma'am, I will, thank y'," and with an effort the boy steadied his
voice and plunged into the middle of his story.

"Father was always good to me, and I liked bein' with him after granny
died. I lived with her till I was seven, then father took me, and I was
trained for a rider. You jest oughter have seen me when I was a little
feller all in white tights, and a gold belt, and pink riggin', standin'
on father's shoulder, or hangin' on to old General's tail, and him
gallopin' full pelt, or father ridin' three horses with me on _his_ head
wavin' flags, and every one clappin' like fun."

"Oh, weren't you scared to pieces?" asked Betty, quaking at the mere
thought.

"Not a bit. I liked it."

"So should I!" cried Bab, enthusiastically.

"Then I drove the four ponies in the little chariot, when we paraded,"
continued Ben, and I sat on the great ball up top of the grand car
drawed by Hannibal and Nero. But I _didn't_ like that, 'cause it was
awful high and shaky, and the sun was hot, and the trees s