“Here comes a boy!” cried Shep, as another performer stepped into one of the rings and bowed.

“Just look how thin and pale he is,” whispered the doctor’s son, who sat not far away from the youthful acrobat.

“Looks as if he had had a spell of sickness,” added Giant.

The youthful acrobat did look as if he had been sick and was not yet entirely over it.  He walked slowly over to one of the ropes and grasped it in his thin, white hands.

“I—–­I can’t go up, Mr. Jones,” the chums heard him whisper to the ringmaster.

“Yes, you can—–­and will, or I’ll cut you with the whip!” was the ringmaster’s harsh answer, and he cracked his lash loudly.

“I—–­I’m not well enough yet—–­my head is dizzy,” pleaded the young acrobat.

“Up you go!” snarled the ringmaster, and cracked his whip in such a fashion that the end of the lash took the young acrobat in the calf of the leg, causing him to cry with pain.

“What an outrage!” whispered Snap, clenching his fists.  “That ringmaster ought to be cowhided.”

Painfully the young acrobat started to pull himself up on the rope.  The ringmaster glared at him and then cracked his whip once more, taking the young performer in the arm.

“Shame! shame!” cried Snap; and “Shame!” added the other boys quickly.

“Shut up, you boys!” growled the ringmaster, turning quickly.

“Then let that boy alone,” answered Snap loudly.

“If you don’t shut up I’ll have you put out!” roared the ringmaster.

The young acrobat had climbed the rope a distance of ten feet.  Now he appeared to grow dizzy, and of a sudden he lost his grip and fell in a heap in the sawdust ring.

“You rat, you, I’ll fix you!” hissed the ringmaster.  “What do we pay you for, anyway?”

He raised his long lash again, but before he could bring it down Snap and Shep leaped from their seats, quickly followed by Giant and Whopper and two well-dressed men.

“Don’t you hit that boy,” cried Snap loudly.  “Don’t you do it!”

“That’s right—–­let the kid alone,” added one of the well-dressed men.

“Go back to your seats—–­this is none of your affair,” growled the ringmaster.

“It is our affair,” put in the doctor’s son.  “That boy is sick—–­everybody can see it.  He can’t perform.”

He purposely spoke in a loud voice, so that many heard him.  At once a murmur arose on all sides.

“That’s right—–­the kid is sick—–­take him out of the ring.”

“It’s an outrage to try to make him perform.”

“The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children ought to look into this.”

Half a hundred men and boys stepped up to the ring, and for a few minutes the discussion waxed warm.  In the meantime the young acrobat arose unsteadily to his feet.  He was so weak he could hardly stand.

“Get back to the dressing-room, and be quick about it,” growled the ringmaster to him.  “I’ll settle with you for this later.”