“I’m ever so much obliged to you,” replied Jack. “But I think I’ll go on. If I thought I could get a job at your farm I’d go with you, but I know nothing about milking or work about cows and horses. I think I’ll travel on. But I want to thank you for what you’ve done for me.” “Aw, that’s all right,” responded Ferd. “I wish I could ’a’ helped ye find th’ satchel thet fell in th’ creek.” “So do I, but I guess it’s gone.” Bidding good-by to the kind and hospitable farm lad, Jack, who had inquired the shortest way to Mulford, set out for that town, carrying the food supplies which had so unexpectedly been given him. “Luck is beginning to turn my way,” he thought. “When I get to where the circus is I’m going to try and get a job there.” It was quite a tramp to Mulford, and it was noon when Jack came in sight of the town, which lay in a sheltered valley. He could see the white tents of the circus, gay with many colored flags, and his heart beat faster, as does that of every boy when he nears the scene where one of the canvas-sheltered shows hold forth. Though it was early, there was quite a crowd about, watching the men erect some of the smaller tents, arranging the wagons, or cooking the dinner for the performers and helpers. “Guess I’ll eat my lunch, and then look about,” decided Jack. The crackers, cheese, and pie tasted most excellent, and when he had taken a long drink from a spring, which served to supply the circus, he felt in shape to look about for a job. He strolled over to where a gang of men were putting up a tent. Something seemed to be going wrong, and the man in charge was out of patience. “What’s the matter with you gazaboos?” he asked tartly. “You pull on the wrong rope every time. Here, haul on the other one, I tell you! What’s the matter with you? Do you want this tent to get up to-day or some time next week? Yank on that other rope, I tell you! Good land! You’re worse than a lot of monkeys! Pull on that short rope!” he fairly yelled. The particular man at whom he was directing his remarks did not appear to understand. He pulled on a long rope, instead of a short one, and the tent, which was nearly up, was about to fall down. Jack saw what was wanted. He sprang forward, and, just in time to save the big stretch of canvas from collapsing, he hauled on the proper rope, pulling it into place. “That’s what I wanted,” said the man in charge. “It’s a pity you fellers wouldn’t take lessons off that lad. He don’t need a tent-stake hammer to have sense knocked into his head. Hold that rope a minute, sonny, and I’ll come over there and fasten it. I never see such a lot of dumb idiots in all my born days!” Jack held the rope until the man took it from him, and fastened it properly. “I’m much obliged to you,” he said gratefully to our hero. “Only for you the whole blamed business would have been on the ground.” “You’re welcome,” answered Jack. Then a sudden idea came to him. “You don’t want any more helpers, do you?” he asked.