Mr. Smoot possessed great coolness of nerve and quickness of hand and eye. In the smaller cities his appearance at the local police station was almost simultaneous with the arrival of the circus train. He found, generally, a commander whose criminal experience had been confined to the peaceful country borders, who was entirely unaware whether or not the community had been invaded by those who would profit by the lack of worldly knowledge of the thousands of show-day visitors, and whose precautions consisted of the swearing in of numerous deputies, who wore conspicuously a bright badge of office in the happy assurance that it would permit them free entrance to the tent. But the police chief was always alive to the responsibilities of his position, offered aid, if not advice, and was ready to act when his duty was pointed out. Then the circus detective hurried to the railroad station and scrutinized the passengers on all incoming trains. Here he sometimes found the railroad watchdog. Many of the big railroads send their detectives wherever the circus uses their lines. Their aim is to see to it that those who patronize their service do so at no financial risk. The peripatetic crook is quickly given to understand that he must use other means to travel. The thick crowds which awaited the coming of the parade was the next scene of Mr. Smoot’s activity. Here was frequently uncovered the first prey of the day, and seldom a morning passed that at least one cunning lawbreaker did not feel the weight of a heavy hand on his shoulder, and hear, sullenly, the word to march to the police station and undergo the damp solitude of a county jail cell for twenty-four hours. Then, when the circus was miles away on its course, he passed out to freedom. Where were yesterday the throng of sightseers, which had filled him with promise of great profit, were only the trodden peanut shells and the accustomed monotony of the country town. The venturesome crook who invaded the circus lot proper, was an especial object of vigilance. Sometimes Mr. Smoot stood for hours on the top of the ticket wagon, a stalwart figure outlined above the crowds, watching for his professional enemies, where he could see on every hand; again he was at the main entrance with a steady, critical survey of all who passed under the broad spread of canvas. A promise made to him in good faith by a crook had never been broken, he used to say. I remember an interesting demonstration I witnessed of his confidence in the word of a man to whom no crime was unfamiliar. He had been discovered loitering about the grounds, and had been ordered off with a threat of immediate arrest. He resembled much a country gentleman of ample means and genial nature. “Well, you got me quick,” was his ready remark, “but seeing as I came all the way from Pittsburg and can’t catch a train back until night, won’t you let me see the show? I pledge you I won’t do any ‘business,’ no matter how tempted.”