I'd make old Barnum look like a two-spot.
Did you ever see more beautiful sunshine, Dick? Now, did you?"
"That's not the sun, Brad," said Dick, removing his pipe from his
lips. "That's a canvasman with a torch." They had arrived at the lot.
Braddock swore a mighty oath, and with jovial good-humor chucked Dick
in the ribs, not very gently, it may be supposed. Dick, with
responsive good-humor, seized the opportunity to deliver a resounding
thump on Braddock's back, almost knocking the breath out of him. If
one could have looked into the brain of the grinning pickpocket, he
might have detected a vast regret that policy made it inadvisable to
thump the showman on the jaw instead of the back. He had the
satisfaction, however, of hearing the other cough violently for some
little time.
"Don't be so rough," growled Braddock, taking a fresh cigar from his
pocket to replace the one that had been expelled by the force of the
blow.
"Excuse me," apologized Dick promptly. "Say," he went on, without
waiting for or expecting forgiveness, "tell me something about this
new clown of yours."
Whereupon Braddock lowered his voice and told him as much as he knew
of the story.
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