e drove the
handsome horses to the barn and saw that they were fed and watered.

Mr. Noyes remarked: "You seem to be fond of horses. Have you handled
them before?"

"All my life," proudly answered Alfred.

"Well, you ride with me tomorrow. It will be more pleasant than in the
band wagon. I want you to go in the concert today."

He had no orchestrated music, but Phil Blumenschein, the bandmaster, was
an old minstrel leader. The orchestra played over Alfred's stuff two or
three times and played it better than it was ever played before. In
those days an orchestra furnished the music for the entire circus
performance.

There came a heavy rain. The attendance at the concert was very light
insofar as the paid admissions were concerned but all connected with the
circus were there to witness the debut of the new boy who had joined to
strengthen the concert.

No opera house or theatre ever erected has the resonance, the perfect
acoustics of a circus tent when the canvas is wet and the temperature
within above 70 degrees. There was a chord from the orchestra. Alfred
ran to the platform in the middle of the ring. (The gentleman who
announced the concert assured the audience there would be a stage
erected). This stage was a platform about ten feet square resting flat
on the uneven earth. As Alfred stepped on it and began his song and
dance, in which he did some very heavy falls, the platform rocked and
reeled like a boat in a storm. Every slap of the big shoes on his well
developed feet made a racket, the sound twofold increased by the
acoustics of the damp tent. Alfred's voice sounded louder to himself
than ever before, notwithstanding he worked his whole first number with
his back to the audience. (In theatres the orchestra is always in a pit
in front of the performers--in a circus concert the orchestra is behind
the performer).

Alfred faced the orchestra; his back to the audience, his work made a
hit, even more with the show folks than with the audience. Dick Durrant,
the banjoist, taught Alfred the comedy of the familiar duet, "What's the
matter Pompey?" This was in Alfred's line and the act became the comedy
feature of the concert.

Salary day came on Sunday. The employes of the circus reported to the
room of the manager, where their salary was counted out to them by the
treasurer. When Alfred's turn came he was asked: "How much does your
contract call for?"

"I have no contract. Here is the letter under which I j