David had a long wait in the dark, stuffy chariot. Finally the door
was opened and Braddock looked in. Directly behind the proprietor was
the dirty sidewall of a tent. David blinked afresh in the light of
day,--although, alas, the sun was not shining.
"Hello," said Braddock shortly. His cigar bobbed up and down with the
movement of his lips. "Come out. You can duck under the canvas right
here. Lift it up, Bill."
The boy slid from the chariot to the ground and made haste to pass
under the wall which had been raised by a canvasman. Braddock followed
him into the huge tent. A small army of men were erecting the seats
for the afternoon performance. David realized that he was in the "main
top."
A stocky, bow-legged man, his hands in his pockets and a short briar
pipe in his lips, advanced to meet them.
"Well, 'ow are you?" asked this merry-eyed stranger, his face going
into a hundred wrinkles by way of friendly greeting. "Oh, I say,
David, don't you know your old pal and playmate? Hi, there! 'Ere we
are!"
David stared in astonishment. It was Grinaldi, the clown, without his
make-up or his wig! Never was there such a change in human face.
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