It was a city in itself.  There were well-defined bounds as to the circus proper.  Ropes strung along iron stakes driven into the ground kept curious visitors at a distance.

The performers’ tent, the horse tents, the cook’s quarters and the sleeping space of the working hands were all guarded, and intruders warned to keep their distance.

Everything was neat and clean, and a well-ordered system prevailed everywhere.

The savory flavor of roasting meat made Andy desperately hungry.  He saw a fat, aproned cook hastily gathering up some chips near a chopping block.  Andy offered to split him some fresh wood, but received only an ungracious: 

“Get out!  No trespassers allowed here.”

Andy wandered about for a long time.  He greatly envied a lad about his own age who, adorned with a gilt-braided jacket, was walking a beautiful Arabian steed up and down.

While he was staring at the circus boy, two popcorn boys connected with the show ran into him purposely and tripped him up.  They went off with a laugh at his mishap.  Andy concluded he was getting in the way as a gruff, grizzled old fellow with a bludgeon ran forward and yelled to him to make himself scarce.

“I wish I could get into the show,” murmured Andy “There seems no way to work it, though,” he added disconsolately.  “I wonder if they’d let me stay here?  When that canvas flaps I can see right into the main tent.”

Andy was right near the canvassed passageway leading from the performers’ tent to the main one.

If no one disturbed him he could have occasional glimpses of what was going on inside, and that was better than nothing.

Fate, however, was against him.  He heard quick breathing, and turning saw the big watchman rapidly making for him, club uplifted.

“Trying to get in under the canvas, eh?” roared the man.

“Not I—­I wouldn’t steal anything, not even a sneak into the show,” declared Andy.

He retreated promptly, but in doing so tripped over a guy rope and went flat.

Andy got up, his mouth full of fine shavings, but grasping something his hand had come in contact with and had clutched in his fall.

He ran out of range of the watchman, who brandished his stick at the lad threateningly.  At a safe distance Andy inspected his find.

“Only a handkerchief,” he said, “and a rather mussy one at that.  But there’s something knotted in it.  I wonder what it is?”

It was a large dark-colored silk handkerchief.  It had an odor of resin, and two of its corners were knotted.

Untying one knot, Andy disclosed a mysterious device resembling two hard rubber shoe horns, joined in the centre by a concave piece of metal.

He could not possibly imagine its use or value.  Then Andy laughed outright.  The other knot undone revealed a small rabbit’s foot.

“Not much of a find,” he ruminated.  “Queer kind of plunder, though.  Wonder who owns it, and what that fandangle thing is?”