Blake and his companion, standing apart from the lank, wide-eyed
guide, were conversing in low tones.
"We'd better make the circuit of the tents," said Blake, evidently the
leader. "You go to the right and I'll take the other way round. We'll
meet here. Keep your eye peeled. He may be hiding under the wagons
where it's dry. Look out for these circus toughs. They're a nasty
crowd."
Then he turned to the guide.
"We won't need you any longer," he said. "This is as far as we go.
Here is your pay. If I were you, I'd buy a ticket and go inside."
"Yas, 'r," said the smileless guide, accepting the greenback with no
word of thanks. A brief "good night" to his employers, and the lean
mountaineer strolled over to the ticket wagon. He purchased a ticket
and hurried into the tent. We do not see him again. He has served his
purpose.
His late employers made off on their circuit of the tents, sharp-eyed
but casual, doing nothing that might lead the circus men to suspect
that they were searching for one among them. In the good old days of
the road circus there were thieves as well as giants; if a man was not
a thief himself, he at least had a friend who was.
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