“Cut away and don’t mind us.  I’m all right, and Bab must do the best she can,” was all Ben had time to answer before his comrade was hustled away by the crowd pressing round the entrance with much clashing of umbrellas and scrambling of boys and men, who rather enjoyed the flurry.

“No use for us to get knocked about in that scrimmage.  We’ll wait a minute and then go out easy.  It’s a regular rouser, and you’ll be as wet as a sop before we get home.  Hope you’ll like that?” added Ben, looking out at the heavy rain pouring down as if it never meant to stop.

“Don’t care a bit,” said Bab, swinging on one of the ropes with a happy-go-lucky air, for her spirits were not extinguished yet, and she was bound to enjoy this exciting holiday to the very end.  “I like circuses so much!  I wish I lived here all the time, and slept in a wagon, as you did, and had these dear little colties to play with.”

“It wouldn’t be fun if you didn’t have any folks to take care of you,” began Ben, thoughtfully looking about the familiar place where the men were now feeding the animals, setting their refreshment tables, or lounging on the hay to get such rest as they could before the evening entertainment.  Suddenly he started, gave a long look, then turned to Bab, and thrusting Sancho’s strap into her hand, said, hastily:  “I see a fellow I used to know.  May be he can tell me something about father.  Don’t you stir till I come back.”

Then he was off like a shot, and Bab saw him run after a man with a bucket who had been watering the zebra.  Sancho tried to follow, but was checked with an impatient: 

“No, you can’t go!  What a plague you are, tagging around when people don’t want you.”

Sancho might have answered, “So are you,” but, being a gentlemanly dog, he sat down with a resigned expression to watch the little colts, who were now awake and seemed ready for a game of bo-peep behind their mammas.  Bab enjoyed their funny little frisks so much that she tied the wearisome strap to a post and crept under the rope to pet the tiny mouse-colored one who came and talked to her with baby whinneys and confiding glances of its soft, dark eyes.

Oh, luckless Bab! why did you turn your back?  Oh, too accomplished Sancho! why did you neatly untie that knot and trot away to confer with the disreputable bull-dog who stood in the entrance beckoning with friendly wavings of an abbreviated tail?  Oh, much afflicted Ben! why did you delay till it was too late to save your pet from the rough man who set his foot upon the trailing strap and led poor Sanch quickly out of sight among the crowd.

“It was Bascum, but he didn’t know anything.  Why, where’s Sanch?” said Ben, returning.

A breathless voice made Bab turn to see Ben looking about him with as much alarm in his hot face as if the dog had been a two years’ child.

“I tied him—­he’s here somewhere—­with the ponies,” stammered Bab, in sudden dismay, for no sign of a dog appeared as her eyes roved wildly to and fro.