"He's not a boa-constrictor, lad. He's the boneless wonder. He's as
gentle as a spring lamb, and not hardly as tough. Signer Anaconda, the
Human Snake, that's what he's called on the bills. Ed Casey is his
real name."
"Aw, cheese it, Joey," growled the amiable Signer. "Say, young feller,
what's ailing you? Where'd you come from?"
The stranger in this curious world managed to turn his body so that
his legs hung over the side of the vaulter's mattress; he faced his
audience, a sudden wariness in his eyes. Before venturing a word of
explanation, he allowed his gaze to sweep the entire group. They
mistook his deliberateness for stupefaction.
He saw perhaps a dozen people in the group before him. The colors of
the rainbow were represented in the staring, curious company. There
were men in tights and women in tights--in pink and red and green and
blue--some of them still panting and breathless after their perilous
work in the ring. He took them all in at a glance, but his eyes rested
at last on the one figure that seemed out-of-place in this motley
crowd: the tall, graceful figure of the woman in street clothes.
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