“There’s a man over there as is eatin’ fire!” he called out. “I never see sich a thing in my life! He be a-swallerin’ yards of it. ’Tis a kind of a ribbon, and he do set a light to one end, and do put it in his mouth, and goes on a-swallerin’ and a-swallerin’! Ye never did see sich a thing! His cheeks—there, ye can very nigh look through them! Come quick, else it will be over. He’ve a-been doin’ all sorts o’ things—playin wi’ knives and a-pullin’ rolls and rolls o’ coloured ribbons out of his mouth. Dear heart alive, how he can keep all they things inside of him I can’t think! But come along quick—this way!” Maggie turned her head for a last look at Johnny, who was by this time but a few yards away from the tent near which John Reed was standing; and then, deciding in her own mind that he was now quite safe, hastened away with the others. But Johnny was not quite safe: though so close to his father that two or three of the latter’s strides would have covered the space between them, he was not destined to reach his side that day. Lo! just as he was preparing to uplift his shrill little voice and call ecstatically on his parent, there was a sudden stampede among the crowd, and Johnny found himself lifted off his feet. One of the colts exposed for sale had broken loose, and, excited by the strange medley of sights and sounds around him, was galloping madly hither and thither, snorting and lashing out with his heels. A big, bearded farmer had caught up the little chap in his arms and ran with him out of harm’s way. In a few moments he halted breathless, and set the child upon his feet. “They’ve caught en, I see,” he said; “no fear now. There, give over hollerin’, my boy; nobody wants to hurt ’ee. If I hadn’t a-catched ’ee up ye’d ha’ been run over.” Johnny gave one scared look at the kind red face, shook off the hand upon his shoulder, and then made off as fast as his tired little legs would carry him in the direction of the tent where he had last seen his father standing. But alas! no father was to be seen, and the poor little fellow, wailing aloud, began a fruitless search for him amid the throng. He did not find him; perhaps because the elder John had already left the Fair, perhaps because the younger, though he imagined himself to be covering a large area, was in reality wandering round and round about the same place. Nobody noticed his continuous cry—there were many tired children at Shroton Fair that day—and now that the dusk was beginning to fall the heads of families were too busy gathering together their own belongings to take heed of a fretful stranger. So Johnny stumbled wearily along, and at last, being thoroughly worn out, climbed into a wicker chair which formed part of a large assortment of basket wares, and resolved to wait until “Dada” came by.