Headed for the open space the main entrance faced, Marco suddenly jerked Andy to one side.  He now made swiftly for some small tents abutting the performers’ tent.

“Hey! hi! hello!” some one had yelled out at them, and Andy saw two skulking forms making towards them.

A third figure joined them.  Andy discerned evident pursuit in their manner and actions.

“Keep with me.  Run in,” directed Marco.

He had thrust Andy into one of the little tents the boy recognized as a dressing room.  Marco dropped the flap and stood outside.

“Where’s the boy gone to?” puffed out a labored voice.

“Gracious!” exclaimed Andy, under cover, but with a gasp of sheer dismay.  “I understand now.”

Andy recognized the tones of this last speaker.  They belonged to Wagner, the village constable of Fairview.

“He’s in that little tent,” spoke another voice.

“Surround it,” ordered Wagner.  “Here, you stand aside.  The boy I’ve been looking for all day is in that tent.  I want him.”

“Hold on,” retorted Marco.  “This is private circus property.”

“Yes, and I’m a public officer, I’d have you know!” said Wagner.  “No use.  Don’t interfere with the course of justice, or you’ll get into trouble.”

There was no light in the tent.  The many flaring gasoline torches outside, however, cast a radiance that enabled Andy to pretty accurately make out the situation.

He traced two shadowy figures making a circuit of the tent.  He could see Marco push back Wagner.

The latter was unsteady of gait and voice.  Andy theorized that he had been commissioned by his aunt to pursue him.

Wagner had come down to Centreville with two assistants.  Their expenses were probably paid in advance, and they had made a kind of individual celebration of the trip.

“I’ve been looking for that boy all day,” now spoke Wagner.

“I know you have,” answered Marco, standing like a statue at the door of the tent.

“He’s a fugitive from justice.  I’m bound to have him.  I’m an arm of the law.”

“What’s he done?” inquired Marco.

“He’s nearly broken his poor old aunt’s heart.”

“I didn’t ask about his aunt’s heart.  What’s he done?”

“Oh, why—­hum, that’s so.  Well, he’s been expelled from school because of his crazy circus capers.”

“Indeed.  I’m a circus man.  Do you observe anything particularly crazy about me?” demanded Marco.  “Say, my friend, you get out of this.  I’m Marco, the Man with the Iron Jaw.  It won’t be healthy for me to tackle you, and I will if you make yourself obstreperous.  You won’t get that boy until you show me convincingly that you have a legal right to do so.”

“Legal right?  Why!” cried Wagner, drawing out a paper, “there’s my warrant.”

“Let me look at it, please.  Oh,” said Marco, examining the document.  “Issued in another county.  We’re pretty good lawyers, us show folks, and I can tell you that you will have to get a search warrant issued in this county before you dare set a foot in that tent.”