“Well, I do need a couple of hands,” was the rather unexpected answer. “If you want to stick around, and help out, I’ll give you a couple of tickets to the show.” “I’ll do it,” replied Jack, for he had a further scheme he wanted to try and this just fitted in with it. “All right,” spoke the man in charge of the tents. “Come with me. I’ll find something for you to do.” Jack was soon engaged in helping put up other tents, in carrying gasoline torches here and there, filling them, and getting ready for the night performance, though the afternoon one had not yet been held. Several times the man who had engaged him came around to see how he was getting on. “You’re all right, kid,” he said heartily. “You’ll do. I wish I had a few more like you. Here, just take this note over to the ticket wagon. Tell the man Ike Landon, the boss canvasman, sent you. He’ll give you a couple of good seats. I guess you can knock off now. We’re in pretty good shape.” He scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to Jack, who took it over to the ticket wagon. It was drawing close to the time for the performance, and there was quite a throng in front of the gaudily painted vehicle. As Jack was working his way through the press to the window, he heard a familiar voice ask: “Waal, are ye goin’ to th’ show? Thought ye didn’t have no money.” “Why, Ferd,” exclaimed Jack, recognizing his friend of the milk wagon. “I’m glad to see you,” he went on. “Have you bought your ticket yet?” “Nope, but I’m goin’ to.” “Wait a minute, then. I can get two, and I’ll give you one.” “Two? How ye goin’ to git two?” “I’ll show you.” By this time Jack had managed to reach the window. He handed in the note, saying: “Ike Landon, the boss canvasman, sent me with that.” “It’s all right,” replied the ticket man, as he glanced at the piece of paper. “Here are a couple of reserved seats.” “Say, ye’re a peach!” exclaimed Ferd admiringly, when Jack gave him one of the pasteboard slips. “How’d ye do it?” “Oh, I pulled the right rope in time,” replied Jack, as he and his new friend went inside the tent, where the band was playing a lively air. CHAPTER XII JACK DOES A STUNT “Say, ain’t this bully!” exclaimed Ferd, as the procession which begins each circus performance wound slowly around the arena. “It’s immense! I wouldn’t ’a’ missed it fer a lot. I’m glad I met you. Now I’ve got half a dollar more to spend on stuff to eat. Besides, this is a better seat than I would ’a’ got.” “Yes, the seats are all right,” admitted Jack. “Ain’t you hungry?” went on Ferd, though he did not take his eyes off the procession of animals, chariots and performers. “I am,” he continued, not waiting for an answer. “Let’s have some hot frankfurter sandwiches.” A man with a basket of them was passing among the audience. Jack eyed the brown sausages, in between the white rolls, with a hungry eye. The crackers, cheese, and pie had not been very “filling.”